Page 33 of The Merciless Ones

I swiftly shiver away this unwelcome thought. There are no gods but the Gilded Ones. This is just what the mothers warned me about, the angoro siphoning their power and using it to supply its wielder. To give them the aura of divinity. That must be the presence I felt, and if so, they’re no god; whoever they are, they’re just one fallible person using an ancient device to pretend at godhood. I must not be fooled by them.

“Make room – excuse me, pardon me – I said make room!”

I’m forced out of my thoughts when Melanis approaches, knocking people out of her way with her staff, all the while murmuring non-committal apologies. She must now be in the incorrigible-grandmother phase of her disguise and she even sounds like it, her voice roughened and hoarse. That’s the strange thing about Melanis – she seems to very quickly adopt the speech patterns and mannerisms of those around her. A survival strategy, I suppose.

A few grumbles rise, but no one says anything directly. The only women respected in Otera are old ones, and that’s because they’ve survived long enough to no longer be considered fully female.

If there’s one benefit to being a woman in this empire, it’s that. Once you get old enough, you become so invisible, no one cares what you do.

“Melanis?” I whisper, alarmed, when she nears. We’re supposed to be positioned at different intervals across the crowd. That way we can see every angle of what’s happening and compare notes.

It’s important to be thorough in situations like this.

But Melanis doesn’t seem to care as she grabs me by the arm. “I’ve felt this before, this presence,” she whispers, agitated, into my ear. “I’ve felt it.”

“Where?” I ask, excited. “Where have you felt this?”

“When,” Melanis corrects. “You mean when. It was during the Divine Wars. In the moment when the mothers were imprisoned and Idugu—” She stops, her expression suddenly dazed. Her eyes blink rapidly, as if she’s elsewhere. “Idugu—”

“Idugu?” I prompt, but the Firstborn is no longer listening to me. She’s gazing off into the distance, at something only she can see.

“Melanis?” I ask, unnerved.

When I touch her shoulder, she jerks, blinking again. Only this time, it’s as if she’s waking from a short afternoon’s rest. “My apologies, what were we discussing?” she asks, suddenly seeming confused.

I still. “You were telling me about Idugu,” I say.

She frowns, that look of confusion growing. “Idugu? Why would I understand the fevered imaginings of foolish humans?” she tuts, shaking her head. “And why am I wasting time here? I should be at my post.”

She hobbles away and more shivers rush my body. As does unease. It’s as if something has erased our prior conversation, so completely obliterated it from Melanis’s mind that nothing remains. Then there’s the way she stared off into the distance, as if something was calling her name.

Or someone…

There’s only one person I know with power like that. Well, four people. And they’ve all been in close proximity with Melanis. While the angoro’s mysterious user has certainly not.

I watch, unsettled, as she disappears back into the crowd.

“What was that, what just happened?” Keita asks the moment she’s gone. He seems discomfited as well.

“I don’t know,” I say, shaking my head. “One minute, she was telling me something; the next—”

“What?” Keita’s gaze is sharp as he peers down at me. He can see the hesitancy in my expression. “What aren’t you telling me, Deka?” he whispers.

My lips are suddenly dry now, so I lick them. “I think she’s had her memories altered. Like the converts who come to Abeya.”

He frowns. “Wait, you think the mothers…”

I nod.

“But why?”

It’s exactly the question that confounds me. Why would the goddesses take Melanis’s memories? Did the Firstborn truly not want to remember what happened during the Divine Wars? Or was it the mothers who wanted her to forget? I quickly shake the thought away. It doesn’t make sense; the mothers would never take someone’s memories against their will. It must have been the Firstborn herself who wanted it. Perhaps the weight of all those centuries was too much to bear. It certainly feels like that sometimes for me and I’ve only been alive seventeen years.

I return my gaze to Melanis. She has now neared the front of the crowd, and she rudely nudges Li aside with her staff, so that she can have the very best spot. She doesn’t seem to be dwelling on our conversation at all.

But that’s probably because she doesn’t remember it…

I turn my gaze to Keita. “I don’t think this is the place to speak of it.”