Chapter 4 Nyssa
Nyssa
His lance of rejection pierced my aching heart. Caelus deserved better than this. Better than me.
What happens if I shatter completely? Will he break into pretty pieces too?
No answers were forthcoming. As far as I was aware, none had ever been soul-bonded before.
At least, not like this. Not to another god.
Not by risking his own life to sever his thread of fate, weaving it forcibly into mine — ensuring that whatever fate I was forced to endure, he would endure alongside me.
I still hadn’t wrapped my mind around the implications of that decision. But I had forgiven him for it.
Forgiveness, however, was not a currency I could presently afford to spend freely. Not with Kronos somewhere out there — hiding, biding his time to strike. Building an army, dismantling our defenses, swaying our allies.
Kronos had nothing but time. And he’d had millennia to ponder his retribution.
Ares had already defected. Now I needed to determine whether my other three suspects would choose the same fate.
“Hermes.” My voice echoed across the silent chamber.
The god in question flinched minutely before rising to his feet.
I met him in the centre, neither’s gaze willing to submit to the other.
Aros approached with a scowl and grasped him roughly by the shoulder.
Wafts of smoke rose lazily from his fingers — or more accurately, from where his fingers were searing through Hermes’ chiton.
This doesn’t bode well.
“No other will be allowed to escape this,” Aros growled. “Not until we get to the truth of where your loyalties lie.”
“No other,” Hermes imitated in his slimy, nasally tone. “Just your father.” His eyes snapped back to mine, hatred oozing out of their dull black depths. “How can you be so sure the son of a traitor will not follow the same path?”
Aros’ fingers dug deeper, eliciting a grunt of pain along with the sound of sizzling meat.
“How dare you—” he began.
“The same way I know a soul is worth more than the sins of their parent,” I cut in before Aros could earn us another enemy. “Or shall I judge your children by your own deeds?”
Hermes glowered but refrained from further argument.
So, he does possess some small semblance of wisdom in that thick skull.
Velira snorted.
“Do you deny sabotaging my trials?” I asked softly.
His hate-filled eyes narrowed in contempt. “Yes. I deny it.”
My brows lifted, disbelief briefly fracturing my icy facade.
“I may not have aided you as others did,” he continued, shooting a glare at Athena, “but I did not actively seek to harm or eliminate you.”
A tiny nod from Aletheia forced my hand.
“He speaks true,” I growled, nails digging into my palm. The tension in the room was thick enough to slice with a blade. “But in the war to come, who will you tie yourself to?”
Hermes straightened as much as he was able under Aros’ unwavering hand. “None.”
Petrichor tainted the air and the chamber gushed with heat.
Hermes swallowed roughly as Velira stalked slowly to my side.
She stopped just behind me, her long serpentine neck extending over my right shoulder.
Her large, golden eyes glared unblinkingly at the god of thieves, prompting his stuttering explanation.
“I b-bear no l-love for K-Kronos, but n-nor do I agree with the c-crown’s choice in you,” he grumbled, his speech smoothing with every bitter word. “For my own sake, as well as that of my kingdom, I shall ally with the majority of my brethren — which, for now, seems to be you.”
“Swear it on the Styx,” Aros snarled, forcing Hermes to his knees.
He glared up at the fiery god standing over him, and spoke through gritted teeth.
“I swear upon the Styx that I, Hermes, god of thieves and of travel, align myself with you, Nyssa, Queen of the Three Realms.”
Satisfied, Aros relinquished his shoulder with a sharp shove. His amber eyes pierced my own, as if to say what now?
Velira, are you able to communicate with Rufus?
Yes, she drawled. Although I do not like to do so. He is rather dim-witted.
Unexpected amusement threatened to curl my lip. Please ask him to deliver a message to Aros.
What message?
That I still don’t trust Hermes. Assign a guard to watch him — covertly.
Done.
Aros’ gaze flicked to Rufus, his bonded manticore, before crashing back to mine. He inclined his head ever so slightly, too subtle to be noticed by anyone else. Except, perhaps, the overly large shadow I now possessed in the shape of a storm-wielder.
Nothing slipped by Caelus these days. He was always alert, always ready to intercept danger at a moment’s notice. He barely ate, barely spoke, barely even slept, and when he did, it was punctuated by night terrors.
He had taken to sleeping at the Palace of Hades this past week. As though he were as loath to be alone as I was. As though his grief was as sharp as mine.
And perhaps it was.
When I’d admitted my suspicions about Charon’s true parentage to him in a moment of profound guilt, Caelus was forced to open himself up to the possibility that Fate had claimed his own brother’s life as payment for my refusal to relinquish his.
Grieve later. You have work to do, Velira admonished softly — gently nudging me back to the present moment and my new duties.
I locked eyes with the huntress still crouched at her brother’s feet.
“Your turn, Artemis.”
To her credit, she rose gracefully, chin held high. Ready to withstand whatever I threw at her.
“Did you instruct your daughter to sabotage me during Hermes’ trial?”
The god of thieves wandered back to his seat, though not without eyeing her keenly, waiting intently for her answer.
“Yes.”
A sharp inhale came from Hestia’s direction.
I had expected that answer, however. “Why?”
“Because my queen required it of me.”
I frowned — an expression that was mirrored in various faces throughout the chamber.
“You had no queen.” Caelus scowled. “My mother was unseated the moment she murdered my father.”
“Respectfully, I did not know that at the time,” Artemis replied smoothly.
“Disrespectfully, whether you knew or not changes nothing,” he argued.
“It changes everything,” she countered. “Hera had just as much claim to the crown as any one of us here. And I honoured centuries of her steadfast ruling by agreeing to disqualify the usurper I believed you to be.” The last sentence was directed at me.
Her eyes shone with sincerity, imploring me to understand. “I would honour you the same, Nyssa.”
Artemis dropped my gaze as she dipped her head — a gesture of respect I had not expected from the goddess of the hunt.
“You will address her as ‘my queen’ until such time as she instructs you otherwise,” Caelus growled from my side.
“Or ‘lady of the sharp tongue’ perhaps,” Aros interjected quietly with a smirk.
“Or ‘she who is not mindful of where she places her feet’,” my mind added unhelpfully in Charon’s playful tones.
Artemis’ lips pressed together, but nodded smoothly all the same. “My apologies, my queen.”
“Did you not have as much claim as any other? Might you not have been crowned queen also?” I asked.
“No.” She laughed sharply, surprising me. “I entered a daughter in the Rite on my behalf. The crown would not have found me worthy on that basis alone.”
Several brows rose at her claim — and at the implications of it. She had not been the only Primal to enter a representative. Demeter, Hephaestus, Poseidon, Ares, and Hermes had all chosen to do the same. Some were taking Artemis’ revelation better than others, however.
“A ruler must not be afraid to act. And would never ask another to perform in their stead,” she clarified.
This time, I could not help the smirk tugging at my lip.
“But you were not afraid, were you?”
She grinned. “No. I simply did not wish to be crowned queen. I would much prefer to spend my days in the wild lands. In my forest in Olympus, or within the trees of Lunaris, with my people.”
My gaze flicked down to the child still half-tucked behind Caelus’ left leg. Aletheia gave a small nod, verifying the truth in Artemis’ answer. I gestured for her to come forward.
To Artemis, I said, “Hold out your hand.”
She reached out, palm up, waiting.
“Aletheia, could you please hold her hand while I ask one final thing of the goddess?”
The girl hesitated for a moment, her gaze darting between us, before warily placing her small palm on top. Artemis held my gaze unblinkingly, somehow understanding that this moment was pivotal in determining her future — and her ability to return to the trees and her people.
“Do you intend to ally with Kronos? Or with Hera? Or will you pledge yourself, willingly, to me?”
Her lips pursed in consideration. Several seconds passed, eliciting a low rumble from Velira’s throat, before the goddess raised her chin, and inhaled deeply.
“Upon the River Styx, I vow to be loyal to you, my queen — for as long as I believe you are acting in the best interests of the realms and my people.”
Caelus bristled at the additional clause, but I was impressed by it. My smile grew.
Artemis was clever. She’d been stuck within a metaphorical strand of rope twisting slowly around her neck and had managed to jam a finger in before it could choke her.
She’d crafted herself an inch of wiggle room, should she need it.
If she deemed me to be a threat, or unfit to rule, she could sever her vow without consequence.
Hermes, as if realising the same thing, bristled. He crossed both arms over his chest, and sank back into his irritation, his face turning a mottled shade of copper.
I turned back to Artemis, still smirking.
“I accept your oath. You may return to your seat and retain your titles and delegations.”
She dipped her head a second time, returning to the empty throne beside her brother’s.
“Last and least, Poseidon.”