(BLUE'S POV)
Now, I knew they were expecting me to explain myself. And I would—but only to myself. There were things a man said aloud and things he kept behind his teeth.
Nowi had come to me less than six hours ago, at the Stormroot pack. He had invaded my woods, invaded my home, and informed me—with the sort of politeness gods reserved for people they were certain could do nothing to stop them—that he would not allow me to take his throne.
His exact words had been, "You are a child, Blue. You are a childplaying at being a god. And no matter how strong you become, no matter how many celestials gather to whisper your name and write your prophecy, you will never—never—take my throne."
His throne.
As if I had ever wanted the damn thing. As if, in nine hundred and twenty-eight years of existence, I had ever looked at the seat of the God of Shadows and thought, 'There. That is something worth having.'
I hadn't.
