Eros said nothing, but all around him, the gods erupted into loud calls, some denouncing Coralia’s words and others voicing their support.
“Saphira pretended to be your ally,” Coralia pressed on. “But all along, she’s been stabbing you in the back. She lured you in with sweet promises, Eros. Behind your back, however, she has been aiding the rebels in your territory. She’s been helping those terrorists plot against you.” Coralia looked at Saphira’s shocked face, and her eyes flashed with predatory delight.
“Words! That’s all this is! But where is your proof, Coralia?!” shouted someone in the crowd.
“Proof is what you want?” A smile twisted the goddess’s lips. “Well, then here it is.” Coralia pulled out a photograph. She waved her hand over the paper, projecting the picture onto the dark sky. “Here is your proof.”
The gods erupted in fury. The sky-picture showed a gathering of people in hand-stitched wilderness clothing. They stood around various smaller tables decked with fruit and bread baskets, eating and talking and laughing by candlelight. And Saphira was among them.
“Those are the clothes of a people who call themselves the Free,” Stash whispered to me. “They live on a world inside Lord Eros’s territory, but they do not acknowledge his authority as lord. In fact, the Free do not worship any god, demon, or deity of any kind. And so the gods have labeled them heretics and insurgents, disrupters of the holy order of the universe.”
“I’m surprised the gods haven’t killed them all,” I replied softly.
“They cannot,” said Stash. “The Free have chosen their hiding place well. The world on which they live is a world where no magic works. As long as the Free remain there, the gods cannot touch them.”
That would explain the gods’ fury. The Free weren’t only an affront to their authority, the gods were also powerless to do anything about them. And if there was one thing the gods abhorred above all else, it was feeling powerless.
The gods’ angry eyes turned on Saphira. They accused her of treachery and of consorting with the enemy. They accused her of being wholly unholy.
And Saphira just stood there in silence, her face frozen in shock. She might have been trained since birth to be the perfect goddess, to always know what to say to everyone, but right now she was completely speechless.
“Enough!” bellowed her bodyguard Calix.
His voice boomed so loudly that it ripped apart Coralia’s sky-picture. The crowd fell silent too.
“These accusations are lies,” hissed the god, standing protectively before Saphira. “And Lady Saphira is exercising her right to an immediate inquiry.”
Coralia laughed, shaking the photograph in her hand. “An inquiry is a waste of time. The evidence is right here. She’s a traitor to the gods, and no traitor to the gods can become one of the Seven.”
I clenched my fists. I didn’t know much about the Free or Saphira, but I did know that I couldn’t stand conniving, self-serving evil bitch goddesses like Coralia.
“It does not matter what you think, Coralia.” Saphira’s bodyguard gave the evil goddess a cool look. “Law is law, and the gods’ law states that Lady Saphira has the right to an immediate inquiry.” His brows drew up slowly. “Unless you believe yourself above the law?”
Coralia set her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Fine. Whatever. An inquiry will not change the truth: she is a traitor.” She looked at Saphira. “Choose your Inquirer well, Saphira.”
Saphira lifted her head and her voice too. “I choose Leda Pandora.”
3
The Perfect Goddess
Every god present here—over two hundred in all—turned and stared at me, their heavenly halos sizzling with magic. Talk about a deer-in-headlights moment.
Then, just as suddenly as Coralia’s public accusation had ignited their fury, the gods returned their attention to the gala.
“That’s your cue to begin investigating,” Stash told me.
“Here? And now?”
A wry smile lifted his lips. “That’s kind of the idea of an immediate investigation, sweetness.”
“I suppose they also expect an immediate resolution?”
“Naturally.”
“What ever happened to patience being an immortal virtue?”
“They’d say that the universe is vast and in constant need of their attention, so they have better things to do than wait for lengthy investigations.”
“Yeah, they all look really busy right now.” I gazed across the sea of gods dressed in fancy clothes, sipping their Nectar and gossiping about their allies and enemies. “Why did Saphira choose me to be the Inquirer anyway?”
“I suppose because you are neutral. You have no alliances or allegiances among the gods. You are completely uninvolved in politics. You’re the only one here who has not sworn their support to one of the gods.”
“If I’m the only one here who isn’t pledged to one of the gods, then which god have you sworn to support?” I asked Stash.
He chuckled. “Saphira also chose you because you have a knack for getting at the truth.”
“That doesn’t answer my question, Stash.”
“It answers one of them.”
“Do you support your father Zarion? Or Faris?”
“I already told you, Leda. I’d support you.”
“Very funny.”
“Thank you.”
“But come to think of it, does a demigod even get a vote?” I asked him.
“Yes, but my vote—and the vote of every normal god—doesn’t count as much as a lord’s vote. Hence the need for the Lords’ Gala, a special place for all the special gods to build alliances and cultivate glory.” Stash even managed to say it all with a straight face.
“You really can think like one of them now,” I told him.
“So can you. That will be a useful skill in your investigation.”
“I was actually hoping I could get out of investigating things,” I admitted. “You said I’m completely uninvolved in the gods’ politics. Well, that’s just the way I’d like things to stay.”
“Really? I thought you enjoyed sticking your nose in everyone’s business.”
“You’re a regular comedian today, Stash.”
He took a bow, then said, “Seriously, though, you’re the gods’ emissary to the demons, Leda. With a role like that, you can’t expect to remain uninvolved in politics.”
“That’s different. I’m trying to broker an alliance between gods and demons to stand against the Guardians. It’s for the greater good.” I indicated the gala of gods. “Bickering over who gets to be one of the Seven isn’t.”
“Which gods sit on the council and rule a larger chunk of the known universe plays a big part in the greater good—or the greater evil.”
I didn’t say anything to that. Stash had a point. But like he’d said, some votes counted more than others. If a demigod’s vote didn’t amount to much, then I doubted everyone was waiting with bated breath to hear what a god-demon hybrid known as the Angel of Chaos had to say.