Chapter 2 #2
Aros blinked quickly, his lower lashes glinting suspiciously in the light.
Frowning, he withdrew Flameless from the sheath on his back and jabbed sharply — holding the dual-headed axe blade-first at my throat.
With a mischievous wink, he jerked it back, flipped it in the air, and caught the weapon by that same blade.
Extending the handle towards me, he waited until my fingers wrapped around its hilt, then knelt at my feet.
In an otherwise silent chamber, Aros’ voice rang out clearly as he spoke, bouncing off the marble pillars. “With you all as my witness, and by the blood I offer this day, I make this oath freely and of my own volition.”
Eyes of warm, flickering, honeyed amber gazed up at me. For once, I found them hard to meet. The raw emotion he exhibited — only for me — cracked something deep within me.
Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I lifted Flameless and held it against the side of his neck, catching the dancing torchlight mirrored across its surface. His pulse throbbed visibly, steady and slow, reverberating softly up the shaft of the axe.
The chamber quieted — like the Parthenon itself held its breath. The breeze stilled as even Fate seemed to pay witness.
Still holding my gaze, Aros nodded slowly — just once.
Fighting against every instinct rioting within me, I dragged the blade across his throat.
Ichor bloomed along the cut — a thin, precise line of oozing gold. Deep enough to scar, to demonstrate his standing within the ranks of warriors. To show all he encountered that he could bear the pain of leadership like a mantle.
Just like he’d waited his entire life to prove he could.
He didn’t blink, didn’t flinch, and only after blood soaked the collar of his shirt did he allow his lip to quirk. That brazen grin transformed his face back into the Aros I knew and loved. The one who ate flames for breakfast. Who was as steadfast and loyal as he was seductive and open-minded.
The only one I could entrust this role to.
“You have been found worthy, Aros — god of war.” When I deviated from the expected script, omitting any mention of his father, as was tradition, his eyes crinkled at the corners.
Aros would not be held — not by any length, width, or depth — against Ares. Aros would stand on his own two feet and carve his own path through the realms. And now, he would do it by my side — as the first warrior in history to claim both titles of High Commander.
Just as I was the first queen of both.
A glimmer of something bright tucked itself behind my breastbone — something more than just the pride I felt. Something belonging to my soul-bonded storm-wielder, and my High Commander’s best friend.
A small smile graced my lips. “I would hear your oath now,” I said as I surreptitiously imbued the weapon still clutched in my fingers. Only the tiny twitch of Caelus’ mouth indicated he knew what I’d done — everyone else remained, momentarily, oblivious.
Aros sobered, inhaling deeply. “With my blood as my binding, and my bones as your pillar, I pledge myself to you.
“Your battles are mine own.
“Your burdens, my duty to shoulder.
“Your will, my law.
“Your enemies, my target.
“I shall lead your armies with honour, integrity, and purpose.
“Let those who seek to harm you meet my blade in combat, and when they fall, serve to remind others of their fallibility.
“Let my strength be your shield and my fire be your wrath.
“I am your Blade and your Hallow, from now, unto eternity.”
A choked sob ricocheted around the otherwise soundless room. It did not come from my own mouth, despite the levity of the moment, but from an overly-emotional goddess of love.
Aphrodite clutched at her throat, attempting to physically restrain the depth of her feelings. “I’m sorry,” she choked out. Streams of glistening tears tracked down her face, somehow making her — rudely — even more ethereal. “It was just so beautiful.”
Snickers fell from the lips of Demeter, Hestia, Athena, and even Caelus. His amusement bubbled along our tether, making it hard not to snort aloud. My nose wrinkled as I fought the sensation of prickling carbonation.
And Velira, likely going out in sympathy, exhaled clouds of smoke from her own nostrils as her throat rumbled with glee.
I bit down on my lips, desperately holding the impending guffaw at bay.
In the end, though, it was Hermes who shattered the moment. In his oily drawl, he asked, “So what, then, is to become of your council?”
I let my lip curl into a smile that was only cold lethality. “Archimedes, Nike, Dionysus, Haras the cyclops, Aspan the satyr, and Erato the demi-god will also be invited to have a seat at the table,” I declared.
“That’s dragonshit,” Artemis seethed, earning a menacing growl from the enormous purple dragon lying in the corner of the room. The goddess’ twin, Apollo, glared at her with searing golden eyes.
She had the wherewithal to freeze, eyes wide and locked onto Velira as she slowly unwound from her casual position on the floor.
“Sorry, Velira,” Artemis murmured, dropping her gaze before turning back to me.
“But are you really going to replace me with a satyr? Or a demi-god? Or the drunken, nonsensical minor god Dionysus?”
“No,” I replied, visibly surprising her. “I don’t want to replace you at all. But until your motives are thoroughly vetted, you will remain under suspicion of treason.”
“Ugh,” she grunted, throwing her hands in the air. “How long until I’m interrogated then?”
I grinned — all teeth. “Momentarily. Caelus?”
He rose fluidly from his throne and strode into the centre of the space. Standing by the large, recently rebuilt, marble doors, Archimedes — after a quick nod from Caelus — opened them just wide enough for a small girl to enter.
She padded in silently on bare feet, wholly unafraid, and wearing nothing but a simple white gown. Her long brunette hair hung in intricate braids down her back and her tan skin glistened in the morning light. She approached Caelus calmly — with an air of grace far beyond her years.
“Thank you for coming,” he said gently, gifting her a small but genuine smile. She returned the expression without delay, then turned to face me.
My brows rose at the sheer perceptiveness in her strange blue eyes — so light they were almost clear — in the face of someone who appeared no older than seven. She inclined her head and curtsied as I eyed Caelus shrewdly.
What purpose does a small child serve during an interrogation?
He grinned, relishing the fact that he knew something I didn’t — for once.
“This is Aletheia. She was brought here three years ago, after her two very mortal parents discovered she had… particular gifts.”
She smells odd, Vel commented.
“Blessed by the gods, they had said,” Caelus continued.
Aros scoffed. “Cursed, more like,” he muttered under his breath.
“In any case, Aletheia was placed into the care of Themis—”
“Themis?” Athena shouted, launching to her feet. “The Titaness? I thought she was long gone.”
“She was,” Caelus explained. “And technically still is. My parents reached out to her—”
“Both of your parents?” Poseidon cut in with a snort. “Oh, Hera would have loved doing that.” He laughed fully then, clutching at his belly. Even Ares’ lips twitched in collective amusement.
“Yes, both of them.” Caelus’ returning smile was one of wicked delight. “Zeus and his second wife had to ask his first wife to raise Aletheia. To keep her hidden until she was powerful enough to wield.”
His grin withered slowly, curling inward until only a scowl remained.
Knowing his parents, that was the only thing they wanted — the gifts this girl possessed. Not the worth of her person. Not to aid her or guide her. Just to use her — which, unfortunately, toyed with my curiosity like a cat with a string.
What is so special about this particular child?
With timing so precise it was as though he’d heard me, Caelus answered my unvoiced question.
“Aletheia holds sway over truth.”
I canted my head to the side, inspecting her quizzically.
“She can inherently sense when a lie is spoken,” he continued. “And if she is touching a person’s skin, can force them to speak their truth.”
Aros whistled. “No wonder your parents wanted to use her.”
I rose and slowly closed the distance between us, stopping a few feet short. Knowing how terrifying I probably looked to someone of her age — clad in fighting leathers, bearing Nightbreaker at my hip, and wearing two interlocked crowns — I dropped into a crouch and met her at her height.
“Hello, Aletheia.”
Her uncanny eyes remained unblinking, and only now that I was close, did she falter. They widened with a fear that cannot be taught. Her mortal body screamed at her that she was in danger.
I understood it.
I was Death housed in a physical body. A monster dressed in darkness.
I was Hades. Queen of three realms.
And I scared her.
“My name is Nyssa.”
“I know who you are,” she answered, voice small but unwavering.
“Ah, so you know that I bear another name?”
She hesitated a moment before nodding.
“Then you must also know how very rare it is for Hades to owe someone a favour?”
She nodded again — quicker this time.
“And rarer still, for that someone to be mortal?”
Another small dip of her chin, this time with no hesitation at all.
“Would you be willing to help me? I’d like to ask a few people here some questions and I need to know if what they say is true.”
Her eyes darted around the room, peering at the gods and goddesses present, silently identifying each one.
Her eyes widened when she looked upon Athena.
Granted, the goddess looked elegantly fierce in her gilded armour, with Glaucus — her owl companion — perched on the back of her chair.
But Aletheia only had eyes for Athena herself.