Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
My big brother says I should write from time to time. Words are whispers of Fate, according to him. I suppose he would know. He has our mother’s name, so he must be important. Sora did not come back from the palace right away. It has been happening often. Today, I will ask her where she goes.
—Anabeth, demi-god daughter of Juno, Goddess of Fate (and sister to June)
“Just fucking do it!”
A loud sigh. “Maybe this was a bad idea. He did say he would kill anyone who tried.”
“Yeah, and he also said he’d automatically assume it was Harren and Laen if anything happened. C’mon, she’ll wake up soon, and I don’t have anything else to knock her out with.”
Nya stayed very still as heavy footsteps drew closer.
When they stopped right next to her, she forced herself to open her eyes and move, panic and adrenaline cutting through the haze of whatever they had drugged her with.
She’d never even heard of something that could knock out gods, but then again, she didn’t know much at all about Arcadia.
“Shit!”
She tried to bolt for the exit, but someone caught her roughly around the waist before she could reach the doorway.
They were in a small, cloistered chamber lit by a single torch, the light flickering wildly and casting long, frantic shadows over the walls.
She didn’t recognize the man in front of her, but his gray eyes were wide as they met hers.
“Feron, you eejit. Do it now!” the other voice boomed in her ear, and she thrashed as she screamed. The man covered her mouth, but he roared, “Fuck!” when she bit his palm hard.
The man, Feron, approached, trembling and ghostly pale.
“Don’t!” Nya rasped. “You don’t understand what you’re doing, either of you.”
“What?” her captor sneered. “Because you’re some distant relation of Nyx? Believe me, girl, most of us can claim connection to one principal or another. You’re not unique in that respect.”
“He’ll kill you if they don’t first,” she wheezed around the hand holding her throat.
“Feron, give me the damn knife.”
She tried to grab the hilt of the dagger as it was handed over but only managed to wrap her hands around the blade.
Still, she didn’t let go, blood streaming down her wrists from her palms. Her captor grunted, twisting and letting go for a moment, giving her one more chance to scream before he gripped her throat tightly with one hand and forced the blade down with the other.
For just a flash, she saw his face hovering above hers, faint silver ebbing in the muddy hazel of his irises.
Then, his eyes widened, and he choked, blood coating his lips.
She gasped, coughing, when his grip loosened and she could finally breathe again.
A moment later, his body was flung against the far wall, smacking limply as it slid to the floor.
She only saw his blank, empty gaze for a moment before the screaming started, and someone lifted her off the floor.
She thrashed blindly, tears mixing with the blood on her face as she screamed, “No, no, no—”
“Nya, hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s just me.”
Vaguely, she knew she was sobbing openly, still trying to escape because she did not want to die, not yet, not like this—
“Nya, shh, it’s alright. It’s me. It’s Carus.” She opened her eyes to find him gently cupping her face, his brown eyes wide and familiar. “I’m getting you out of here, okay?”
In the corner, someone—Feron, she thought—was screaming and pleading. Energy crackled through the room, so potent, she could taste it. Her eyes darted to the sound, but Carus shook his head, pulling her face away.
“Don’t look. It’ll be over soon, but we need to go now, alright?”
Hazily, she nodded. This time, when picked her up, she did not fight, clinging to him as he carried her out of the room.
“Please, please tell him!” Feron screamed. “He told me to, but I didn’t do it! Please…Nya—”
The last thing she heard before Carus rounded the corner was a low laugh, another shrill scream, and then Morgen speaking in a voice so cold, she hardly recognized it.
“What makes you think you can fucking say her name?”
She shut her eyes, tucking her face against Carus’ chest. Her body was shaking so hard, it hurt, her tensing muscles unable to relax. Neither of them spoke, not until they reached what she vaguely recognized as Morgen’s room and he had tucked her into several blankets on the bed.
“What will happen to Feron?”
Carus gave a low laugh, his eyes darkening with fury. “If he’s lucky, he’s dead by now.”
“And if he’s not?”
He raised a brow. “My guess is that Morgen is taking his time, and Feron is wishing he slit his own throat with that dagger rather than following along with his piece-of-shit friend’s plan.”
She shifted, wincing as the adrenaline and terror began to fade and the pain set in. Her throat felt bruised from the inside out, her aching hands covered in drying blood. She healed faster and easier than mortals, but, unlike Morgen’s healing abilities, it still took time.
Carus frowned, looking at her hands. “I can’t heal you, but he’ll do it as soon as he returns.”
“Do they know?”
“Who?”
She swallowed, tightening her jaw at the sensation but forcing herself to continue. “Our parents.”
A flicker of emotion crossed Carus’ face, but he didn’t address the way she’d spoken of her family as his too.
Instead, he shrugged and said, “I figured it would be best not to mention it until you were safe. I kind of got the impression they’re ‘the tear down the mountain to keep you safe’, ‘ask questions later’ kind of people, and while I appreciate the sentiment, it would have been a mess. ”
Her lips twitched with a barely-there smile, even though she really felt like crying. “You’re definitely right,” she croaked. “Thank you for realizing it.”
“They love you.” His voice softened as he said it. “A lot. I didn’t think… I thought that kind of love was something people made up.”
She shivered, and he added another blanket around her shoulders.
“I’ll warn you, it can be kind of overwhelming sometimes,” she said. “Having someone care that much with zero expectations of anything in return.”
“I don’t know if they’ll ever feel that way about me.”
She paused, wondering if it was her place to convince him of anything.
But Carus had been alone and searching for so long, and her parents had been mourning all that time too.
Letting him waste time wondering if he was allowed into her family suddenly seemed foolish, especially with the approaching conflict.
“They’re no stranger to second lives,” she told him.
“But they fell in love with each other every time they came back, and you…” She lowered her gaze.
“I’ve never heard my mother scream the way she did when she realized her baby wasn’t breathing, and I hope I never do again.
And when it was time, the midwife had to practically shout in their faces and push me into their arms because they wouldn’t let you go.
Believe me, Carus, they’ll love you just the same as me if you let them. ”
He looked away, eyes glassy and jaw tight. After a moment, he gave a short nod, and then neither of them spoke for a while. She shut her eyes, willing her body to calm and telling herself Morgen would take away the pain soon.
Nya?
She opened her eyes. I’m fine. Carus is with me.
You’re injured. I should have healed the wounds first.
Even down the pathway, his voice was breathless, as if he was moving very fast. She was sure he would appear at the doorway any moment, so she didn’t reply.
Sure enough, within less than a minute, she heard him say through ragged breaths, “I would have portaled, but I just used a decent amount of magic, and I didn’t want to—”
“Relax, Morgen,” Carus said, standing. “She’s fine. Just heal her so she stops bleeding all over the blankets.”
The words did not help calm him. The air thickened and shifted, the torches flickering, and his fingertips sparked as he clenched his hands into tight fists.
“Hey.” Carus stepped directly in front of him, momentarily blocking her view. “Take a fucking breath, or you’ll accidentally kill her trying to heal a few cuts.”
Morgen stiffened, and she couldn’t see his expression, but the air stopped buzzing and the torches calmed.
“I’m good,” he said gruffly. “Go.”
Carus didn’t hesitate this time, leaving the room without another word.
Slowly, she lifted her head from where she had been resting it on her curled knees and met Morgen’s eyes.
She expected him to get angry again, but instead, the glow of the embers softened, and his terse expression fell.
Tentatively, he moved closer, one hand slightly outstretched, as if not to startle her.
“Can I sit?”
She nodded, trying and failing to stop from shaking. The mattress bowed, and she whispered, “I’m fine.”
“You can try to feed that bullshit to Carus, but it won’t work with me. I know you’re not, Nya. I can feel—” She heard him take a deep breath. “Let me heal you at least. Please?”
Now that he was closer, she could see the specks of blood on his cheeks she was sure weren’t his.
Maybe it should have frightened or made her feel worse, but the knowledge the men who had done this to her had died painful deaths was comforting.
More than. She was glad Morgen had killed them the way he had.
If that was wrong, she couldn’t find it in herself to care at the moment.
“Go ahead,” she said, her breath hitching.
He nodded, moving closer. She didn’t fail to notice the way his hand shook as he placed it lightly against her sternum.
“This might hurt, just for a second, but it won’t be as bad as the last time I healed you.”