Berries and Greed

What would my room at Greid’s be like? He’d said his house was big, but obviously it wouldn’t be as enormous as the compound. It might be nice to live in a house that wasn’t such an extreme. Not a tiny, cramped apartment nor a gigantic, sprawling, lifeless building. Just a normal house. A normal demiurgus house, anyway.

I was too wired to even attempt shutting my eyes, staring up at the dark ceiling as my thoughts raced. Would Greid be wearing another slick three-piece suit when he came back to get me? For some reason, I got the sense that it wasn’t his usual attire, and not just because he’d been wildly uncomfortable the whole time he’d been here.

What would we eat for dinner? What would we watch on TV? Maybe it was silly to get excited about such mundane things, but I was. I was excited.

I’d mocked all the others for acting like kids on Christmas morning when Greid had been about to make his grand entrance in the courtyard, but that was exactly how I felt now.

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Chapter Nine

Beryl

Well. I guessed he wasn’t coming.

We’d arranged for Greid to come back at midday before he bolted out of here the day before. So at five minutes to, after being forced to hug every single cult member here and saying a tearful, hushed goodbye to my aunt, I’d left through the front doors of the compound with my embarrassing luggage and sat on a little stone bench near the top of the steps to wait for his arrival. I’d thought the rest of the cult would come out to watch us leave together, but the high priest had said in hushed tones that it was a sacred moment, meant only for mates.

But it was quarter to one, and he still hadn’t showed.

I gripped the edge of the bench, blinking fast to keep the heat gathering in my eyes at bay. I was shocked by how upset I felt. Over the course of the night and morning, breathless excitement had gradually overtaken the fear of leaving everything I knew behind, but it seemed silly to be this disappointed. It wasn’t like I knew Greid. It wasn’t like I’d been jilted on my wedding day or anything.

I guess he changed his mind, I thought miserably, staring down at my chunky flat sandals. Inappropriate footwear for autumn, even though the days were still warm, but it was these, my sneakers or ugly working boots that we wore in the winter while tending to the vineyards.

I’d worn my brightest clothes—stuff I’d bought in secret but never actually dared to wear in the compound—to mark the start of my new life. Maroon trousers and a pale blue shirt with an embroidered breast pocket. My ass was getting numb and cold from the stone bench beneath me, and the breeze was picking up at the top of the hill, making me shiver in the thin shirt. I’d packed my ugly working coat, and I really couldn’t be bothered to dig through everything to get it.

The thought of going back inside and telling them all that Greid had never shown up made my cheeks burn with humiliation. Which was ridiculous—I didn’t actually care that he’d ‘rejected’ me. I didn’t want him as my higher-being-sex-wizard mate. But I could already see the pitying looks. I could hear the hushed whispers as they wondered what was wrong with me, why he’d changed his mind. The high priest would probably cry.

The idea of going back to my room and unpacking made me want to cry. I’d been so close. I’d finally worked up the courage to leave, to try experiencing real life, and this sudden about-turn at the very last minute was… well, it was frankly like a big, unexpected kick in the cunt. With steel-toed boots. Delivered by the enormous, powerful foot of a demiurgus.

It was crushing, but as I wrapped my arms around myself to ward off the chilly breeze, the disappointment began to turn into anger. That absolute bastard. Why had he gotten my hopes up? Why had he offered? If I ever saw him out in the city, I was going to—

“Buh-Beryl.”

I whipped my head toward the top of the steps in time to see Greid stumbling up the last of them, almost collapsing to the ground. He doubled over, bending his long legs and placing his hands on his knees as he sucked in heaving breaths.

I stared at him in disbelief. He looked… Well, he looked like shit, quite frankly. His long black hair was a tangled mess, and he was not wearing a sharp three-piece suit like yesterday. He was in stained grey sweats and a huge black sweater that was ripped on one sleeve, his feet stuffed into unlaced boots.

My mouth twitched, then curved up into a smile. I got the sense that I was seeing a closer approximation of the real Greid here. And he was a hot mess.

He finally straightened, still wheezing for breath. His yellow eyes looked a little bloodshot, and I was pretty sure there were pillow marks still creasing one cheek.

“Uh…” I stood up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he panted, clutching his side and gesturing at the steps behind him. “It’s just… those fucking stairs.”

I laughed. “Did you run all the way up them?”