Tributes

Chapter Five

"Heilan!" Tyreol roared as he walked into the throne room. His servant appeared by his side instantly, Helian's aide close behind. Tyreol zeroed in on the aide furiously recognising him as the one who had brought Paul to him and caused him this trouble. "You!" He growled, "What is the meaning of the boy you took?"

"He is a rare breed," The aide said calmly, unfazed with the angry War God on his face. "Also he was being beaten and abused. He was about to be broken. He needed to escape that life before his father sold him off to the highest bidder. What better way then here?" he offered bravely, head held high and his eyes challenging. 

Tyreol glared fiercely at the man's eyes with a look that had sent gods fleeing. This one had blue hair and glamour about him that screamed his heritage. He was a court fae. The worst for showing their subservience and one of the most untrustworthy of the races. It didn't help that fae didn't offer fealty to anyone but their Queen and King, even when serving gods. He snarled in warning and didn't miss as Heilan nudged the man in the ribs. Eventually, the man's eyes moved to the floor. Tyreol hissed and strode over to his throne. It groaned loudly as he collapsed on it, placing a hand on his forehead, shielding his eyes and exhaling loudly. 

He could not argue with the man's logic. In general his servants were smart when choosing his tributes. Physical features were only one part of it. Fates were as well. People who would otherwise live a normal life, having the chance to live an abnormal and exciting one. People who needed to break free of their lives, or who needed a chance to prove their worth. Paul had needed saving and so he had been chosen. 

"Master," Heilan offered gently, approaching slowly and kneeling at Tyreol's feet. "I looked over the boy myself. He needed saving and once his soul has been healed from the damage done, he will make a good tribute for you," he promised, a hand resting on Tyreol's thigh. 

"Exactly. Healed!" Tyreol grumbled, not missing how his servant had come to the defence of his aide. Tyreol lowered his hand and looked over at the aide, who was looking distinctly unhappy. "The boy had a bloody panic attack at being marked. It took me ages to calm down and then when he was finally calm, I had to deal with Julia thinking I had harmed the boy," he told Heilan, his voice still carrying the weight of anger. Heilan shifted and grimaced.  The aide also flinched at that news.

"That doesn't sound good," Heilan acknowledged quietly.

"It wasn't. I didn't react well to her," Tyreol growled darkly. That was a massive understatement. 

He had slapped her. Her words had been sharp and insolent. Her body language had screamed that she wanted to attack him. He had few doubts if he was not a God she would have. He would not stand for such a thing. She was his now and he would not stand for his questioning his rights in such a tone. The sound of the slap had practically rung through the room and Paul had stopped his screaming in fear. Abel's magic had reacted and slammed the door to his and Kain's bedroom shut, blocking them from him as best he could. Julia hadn't looked at him when he stormed out, determined to calm down before he did something worse. As it was, this was a massive blow to the delicate trust he had been building with them all.    

"What happened?" Heilan dared to ask, his eyes imploring as Tyreol let out another growl, this time of frustration. "Master?"