Chapter 30
Chapter
Thirty
Sora,
I am returning to Cion, to be with her in her final days. After her time has passed, I will not force you or Nya to relive the pain of the past by seeing me. I will haunt the memories for you both, so you may forget and finally live in peace, as you have always wished. As you deserve.
—Ana
A few weeks later, for the first time ever, Nya stepped into the palace where the former king of the gods, Kronos, once ruled.
This was the place where her parents suffered unimaginable horror and loss, where countless mortal women lost their lives, and where Morgen had been tortured and abused by a father who was supposed to have loved and protected him above all others.
The interior of the palace was underwhelming. A little tacky. Too much gold in all the wrong places.
She lifted her chin high at the ridiculous, gaudy décor, and Morgen’s hand tightened where it wrapped around hers.
He had paused at the threshold of the main entrance, then again at the enormous arch signaling they were entering the throne room, the curved doors thrown open to welcome them.
She stopped with him both times, allowing him every pause he needed.
Carus trailed behind them with a small group of guards from Morgen’s army. Some of them had left now that the threat of conflict was diminished, but most had remained. Today, they would line the throne room as she and Morgen were crowned king and queen of Arcadia.
“They fixed the ceiling,” Morgen muttered, his eyes sweeping upwards to the glass dome.
Nya furrowed her brow. “What?”
His eyes stayed fixed above. “Your mother and Thessilnn destroyed it when they came after your father. She blew out the stained glass on the walls too, though I see Sol altered the panels when they repaired them.” He cleared his throat, finally looking away.
“It’s strange to see it all intact again. ”
Nya tightened her grip on his hand, more for her sake than his now. Sometimes, when he spoke of that day, she felt like she was hearing about strangers, not her parents. She vowed silently, then and there, to herself and all others, that she would never let anyone live in such fear again.
“Morgen,” Carus said from behind them. “You two should probably get ready.”
Morgen didn’t reply at first. His throat worked, and then he gave a curt nod and turned swiftly, letting go of Nya’s hand. She watched, lips pinched, as he strode out of the throne room.
Carus glanced at her. He looked sad. “Give him time, Nya. I think…this is much more difficult for him than either of us can fully comprehend.”
“I know that,” she said. “But he doesn’t need to bear it alone either.”
She didn’t wait for his response before hurrying after Morgen.
She caught up to him at the bottom of a grand marble stairwell that led to a large open balcony.
Morgen was staring past the stairs, down a small hallway that branched off to the left.
His fingers were wrapped so tightly around the polished wood banister, his knuckles were white, his eyes wide in an old terror as they fixed on the spot.
“Was that it?” she asked quietly, stopping next to him. “Your room? Down that hall?”
He inhaled sharply, and his breath shook on the exhale. “It was, yes.”
“Do you want to look? Or would it be better not to?”
He tore his gaze from the hall, and when he looked at her, she found his eyes were dull but shining with unshed tears. “Can you come with me?”
Her heart broke at the broken vulnerability in his voice, but she didn’t let it show on her face. He didn’t need her to be upset for him right now. He just needed her to be there.
She took his hand again. Whenever you’re ready.
I’m afraid. Logically, I know he won’t be there, but it feels… It’s hard to convince myself he won’t be lurking around some corner.
“I know,” she whispered, pressing her palm to her cheek.
He stared at her for a stretch of time, and she didn’t move, letting him take whatever he needed from her. Eventually, he nodded curtly, more to himself than her, she thought, then turned down the hallway.
She didn’t have much experience at all with palaces, but she imagined this was what a servant’s hall would look like. Small, simple, conveniently hidden from the main splendor without being too far from reach.
He stopped at a slightly ajar door midway down the hall.
The wood was splintered and burned in several places.
She held his hand tightly, and he nudged the door with his foot.
It swung open, creaking on its hinges, to reveal a small room, with only a bed and a roughly hewn chest of drawers.
Dust floated through the air, illuminated by the dim stream of light coming in from a small, dirty window above the bed.
Morgen swallowed audibly then let go of her hand and walked slowly towards the bed. She pressed a hand to her chest to steady herself as she watched him kneel, peering underneath the bed. It was so small, the sheets tucked neatly into the thin mattress.
Morgen reached under the bed and pulled out a small wooden box.
When he opened it, she came closer, watching him ghost his fingers over the objects within.
They were simple, ordinary things: a cream-colored kerchief, two pieces of inked parchment, a crumbling autumn leaf, a tiny brass pendant crudely formed into the shape of a dragon.
“Kindnesses,” he murmured before shutting the box again.
Her eyes burned, and this time, she could not stop the tears that fell silently down her cheeks.
The objects in the box were mementos, just like the ones from her he’d kept in his room in the Gods’ Aisle.
But these objects represented the only moments of kindness or warmth he had been given as a child here.
“The people who gave me these are long dead,” he said, sliding the box back under the bed.
“It never took long for Kronos to sniff out those who were extending too much sympathy my way.” He glanced back at her, noting the tears.
“Please don’t tell me you’re sorry. I don’t think I can take any pity right now. ”
Her brow rose at his blank expression. She wiped the tears away and knelt next to him. “Give me a little more credit than that, Morgen.”
She shut her eyes briefly, attempting to try and calm the embers rising to further bolster her emotions.
It had been a feat she’d been working on with him these past weeks, but she was still not as controlled as she would have liked.
“Of course I’m sad for you, and for them, and I’m angry all that had to happen.
It would be impossible for me not to feel those things.
” She shook her head slightly. “But I don’t pity you. ”
He exhaled, and his entire body slackened. He pressed his forehead to her shoulder and breathed deeply. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice muffled. “It was instinct to expect that. This place is just… It’s unbalancing my mind, being here.”
She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly. “I wish we didn’t have to come back here.”
“Me too.”
“The decor is obscenely ugly. Who allowed that much gold? It’s garish. We’ll have to tear everything out and start completely from scratch if we want to make it bearable.”
He lifted his head, staring at her with an unreadable expression before a surprised laugh burst out. “The decor?” he said, still chucking. “That’s what you’re worried about?”
Her lips twitched, and she shrugged. “We have to start somewhere.”
They both knew it was more than that without saying. She wanted to make this place as far from the horror-filled halls he remembered as possible, to erase memories of Kronos so he and anyone else who had suffered at the former king’s hands did not see him here.
Morgen pressed his palms to her face, nudging his nose against hers. “I love you,” he said, and then, before she could reply, he kissed her gently.
“So rude, not letting me reply,” she said when he broke away, but the words were too soft to even be teasing, especially when she added, “I love you too.”
His smile was small and fleeting, but she took the victory regardless. He stood, offering her a hand. “Shall we?”
She took it, sweeping one more glance around the room. “We shall.”
Hardly an hour into the evening, Nya decided she hated small talk. She’d never had to endure much of it before, given her secluded childhood, and even at the temple where she had served in D’anna, the sisters had only even spoken when necessary.
During the reception that followed the lengthy coronation ceremony, no one seemed to be saying what they really meant. Each polite inquiry had a double meaning, and almost every interaction felt coated in forced flattery.
She wasn’t alone in her feelings; Morgen didn’t seem to be enjoying himself much at all either.
She could see the strain in every ‘smile’ he gave, if she could even call his expression that.
A handful of painful hours into the party, Carus interrupted a stilted conversation with a ‘friend’ of Thanatos’ who Nya was fairly certain was actually terrified of the Death god.
“Your Majesties,” he said with a bow, smirking when Morgen glared at him. “There’s someone who wishes to speak to you both in the gardens. I can escort you there.”
“We better go then,” Nya said, forcing herself to sound apologetic.
Neither of them waited for the demi-god they’d been speaking to, and Carus trailed them as they escaped out of the ballroom. Double glass doors opened into the hedge maze garden, and Nya took a deep inhale of the cool evening air as soon as they stepped outside.
“You two looked like you could use a second,” Carus said, striding ahead of them to a circular courtyard containing a gurgling fountain in the shape of a dragon and three stone benches. It was lined with a garden of white roses, some of the patches glowing in the night air.