Angel Seduced by Jaime Rush Page B

Tryah—angel, Deuce god, and Dragon god. Treylon didn’t like when Silva reminded him that the Tryah had tried to obliterate Crescents by inciting a war on the island more than three hundred years ago. Recently, they had hatched a scheme to free the tethered gods, enlisting the help of the very Crescents they had once been willing to kill. Demis was sure that if the angels were released, the Caidos’ curse would end. But his promise to those who helped was greater and more definite: to bestow both immortality and power beyond anything they’d ever conceived.
    If the gods could be trusted.
    Silva had found no one in life who could be trusted completely. But he wasn’t doing this for the power, since he had plenty of that. What he ached for was acceptance and respect. He wanted Treylon to see him as an equal, a valuable asset.
    Treylon gave him a dark look. “Don’t do anything else to botch this up.”
    Sure, remind him again of how he’d nearly ruined everything a few weeks ago, all to procure a newborn. “You’re the one who’s getting desperate, pushing everyone. I took a chance, and it backfired. But it turned out all right in the end. Only my name was implicated, and since I do not legally exist, no one can find me. Or trace me to you.” Silva raised his arms to encompass everything in front of him. “And we are here, in this beautiful place.”
    â€œOur benefactor had to relocate guests to accommodate us. My connection in the Concilium had to do a quick cover-up. I don’t like needing help.”
    â€œBut you do need help, from me.” Silva gestured to the Caidos below who had put their lives on hold to assist him. “And them.”
    Treylon’s mouth tightened. “I mean from my peers.”
    Ah, the Caidos here worked for him, not with him. Even Silva, who had been with him the longest. It would have to be enough to know that the old man needed him, even if he never voiced it. Or thanked him. But it was hard not to resent being given little credit for his loyalty.
    Treylon headed downstairs to the courtyard, where twenty Caidos now formed a line military-style. Most of these men, in their late teens and early twenties, had been culled from the streets as Silva had so long ago. Treylon made sure they all felt as though they owed him a debt of gratitude. Servitude. Each bore the mark on their chest as a result.
    Silva traded a look with Gren, who was clearly curious about the impromptu meeting. He’d been curious about Kasabian, too, jealous that Silva wanted to keep the man whose name he’d called out once in the heat of ecstasy.
    Treylon clasped his hands behind him. “A boy escaped yesterday and ended up at the Guard. Fortunately, one of our people alerted me and our contact made sure that he was extracted before he could tell them anything. He is now recuperating and will return to us before our deadline, to assist us in our task.”
    Treylon’s cold eyes assessed the group. “Someone here allowed that boy to escape.” Though his voice appeared calm, a deadliness edged his words. “Someone jeopardized the entire program. I want that person to speak up now. I will show you mercy if you confess.”
    The men glanced at one another, shifting nervously. No one spoke.
    Treylon walked from man to man, spending several seconds staring into each of their eyes. He paused in front of Beldeen. “I know it was you.”
    Beldeen’s face blanched. “No, sir, I—”
    â€œYou flinched when I first mentioned it. And now your expression gives you away. Tell me why you released the boy.”
    Beldeen swallowed hard. “He was so ill. I memory-locked him so he could not tell anyone where he’d come from. I couldn’t bear his suffering anymore, and you would not let up. I’m sorry.”
    Treylon released a long breath. “You gave in to your nature. It is understandable. But not