Chapter 8 Caelus
Caelus
Sweat covered every inch of my body as the clang of steel against steel reverberated around the training arena. Even though there were no more trials to be endured here, it still made an incredible space for honing one’s skills — or burning through one’s turmoil.
I was in the latter group; Aros, likely the first.
The shadow of a dragon passed overhead as Vel soared through the sky above. She was so low that the gust of wind from the next flap of her wings ruffled the hair on both our heads, but it still wasn’t enough to distract me.
Flameless — Aros’ double-headed axe — slashed through the air, whipping past my cheek. I threw Ceraunos up to deflect it, my arms burning with the effort it took to hold the sword steady.
Aros grinned, relishing the fury he knew I barely held in check on a day to day basis. His amber eyes flickered to life, flames roaring in their depths, and suddenly, I could contain it no longer.
I lashed out, whipping my sword around in an arc — a move that would sever the leg of a lesser man. Being a god of war, my oldest friend sidestepped easily, tutting as he moved.
“You’ll have to do better than that to best me, Prince,” he goaded.
And like the idiot that I was, I took the bait.
“I’m no prince.” I grunted against the strain of another block. “Never was, never will be.”
“No, you’ll just be king instead.” His grin was all teeth — all bite.
“Fuck off,” I retorted.
Clearly not the most mature response, but Furies, I was seething.
Aros cackled. “That’s it, let it all out. Tell me what’s really bothering you. Because I know it’s not that you haven’t tasted our Queen yet.” He winked.
“Don’t speak of her like that!” I roared, igniting.
Violet-hued lightning arced out of each of my fingertips as I threw them wide, sword forgotten in the sand. My eyes burned with the rage I could no longer contain. Every inch of my sweat-covered skin was now alight, rippling with electricity.
“There he is!” Aros shouted, his gruff voice echoing throughout the empty arena, bouncing off the vacant stands. “Zeusy the second!”
The earthen ground of the arena trembled as I let my power fly free. Sizzling bolts of lightning were set loose, hitting every solid surface until I was fully spent. I had nothing left to give, but for a tiny spark held in the palm of my right hand.
I panted as I watched it dance, wrath quickly replaced by the howling guilt it really stemmed from. The spark sank beneath my skin, fury and power both exhausted. My lightning would replenish, and if I continued like this, my fury would, too.
“I burned her,” I whispered, the admission costing more than I thought it would.
“What do you mean?” Aros asked, peering out from behind his bronze shield.
“I mean my power shot out and zapped her cheek.”
“And?”
“My gift hurt her! I hurt her, Aros,” I confessed, anguish distorting my face. “I felt her flinch… saw the burn mark marring her skin… I felt the pain as it zapped her.”
He said nothing for a while, then gestured at the still-quivering ground. He sat, quirking a ginger brow until I joined him with a huff.
“Did you mean to hurt her?” he ventured.
“Of course not!”
“Then apologise and move on.” He shrugged.
“It’s not that simple… and that’s not the point,” I bit back.
“Fine. Well… what is the point then?”
“The point is that I lost control!”
“Ah.” He pursed his lips while his eyes danced around the arena until they landed on the archery target twenty metres away. “Hit that,” he said, pointing to it. “Right in the middle.”
Indignant, I frowned. “I have nothing left to hit it with.”
He grinned again, pulling a flask out of some hidden pocket in his armour. “Well then, my friend. Let’s pass a little time while it rebuilds, shall we?”
I swiped the flask from his outstretched fingers, smirking before tipping it back and taking a hearty swig of honey mead.
“Oi, leave me some!”
I slowly raised the flagon and sipped again, thoroughly enjoying the crease between his brows as it puckered further.
“So,” he began. “How goes it with the young queen?” He leaned in conspiratorially, wicked smirk in place. “Does she taste as sweet as she smells?”
The half-empty container thudded as it bounced off his head.
He laughed, raising his hands in surrender. “I was kidding! Kind of, but at least it got some sort of reaction out of you.” He picked up the flask, frowning before downing the rest. “First you steal the heart of the woman, now you steal my liquor, too.”
“Please — she was always going to be mine.” I smiled, a little softer this time.
“Ughhh,” he moaned, his eyes rolling back into his head. “Not this again.”
I chuckled. “I can’t help it. I’m—”
“In love, yes, yes, I know.” He laughed. “And I’m glad to see it. Truly.”
“Just you wait,” I grinned.
“To fall in love?” Aros laughed heartily. “I fall in love weekly.”
“You think you do.”
“No, I do. It just never sticks. One day, maybe. But for now, I shall live happily in my conquests.”
Then it was my turn to roll my eyes.
Aros winked. “Trust me, they all live happily in them, too. I could give you some pointers, if you’d like?”
I scowled.
He laughed again, his smile turning devious. “I’ll give you one pointer for every time you miss the target.”
“I won’t miss.”
“I shall pity Nyssa even more then.”
I set my sights on the ruby red bullseye, electricity once again arcing between my fingertips. Extending my right hand, I loosed a bolt. It flew all twenty metres with ease, sinking into the wooden target… six inches to the left of the bullseye.
Aros chuckled; I groaned.
“Lesson one: if she says she’s close, don’t go faster.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Maintain the same pace, the same rhythm… don’t change it up just ‘cause you’re excited.”
I shot again — this time it landed four inches to the right.
“What the hell is the matter with me?” I mumbled.
“Well, it won’t be the fact that you remembered to play with her nipples.” He winked. “Lesson two.”
“Aros,” I sighed.
“Again.”
I glared at that red circle, fuelling all my aggravation into the next strike. “Yes!” I hooted when it landed in the middle.
Nailed it.
Aros whistled as he approached. “Close, but not quite.”
I ran up to inspect the target. “That’s a hit!”
“It hit the side of the bullseye — it’s not a direct hit.”
“Close enough,” I muttered.
Aros whirled on me, irises dancing. Startled, I jerked back.
“No.” He glared. “There’s a war coming, and you mean to tell me that a glancing hit on the side of your target is still a hit?
” He stepped again. “No. And I mean no disrespect, Caelus, but if that’s our Queen on the line?
If that target is an enemy gunning for Nyssa? An almost hit is not good enough.”
I said nothing. He was right and we both knew it.
“A Queen who has just named me as her Blade and her Harrow— an honour never before bestowed upon anyone. I vowed to give my life to her, to sacrifice myself if necessary to protect her, and you should feel that tenfold.”
“I do!”
“Then prove it!” he roared. “Hit the damn target and keep her safe!”
Guilt wracked me once more as I moved silently back to the line and fired again.
This time, the sliver of violet sailed through the air, right past Aros’ amber eyes, and hit the target — dead centre.
“Better,” he grunted. “But if someone as skilled as you is having issues with their aim, I’d hate to guess at how the others will fare. I need to speak with Nyssa. We need training. All of us.”
I nodded because again, he was right.
Aros right twice in as many minutes — who’d have thought it?
The answer came to me just as quickly.
The reason she’d made him her Blade and her Harrow — Nyssa had thought it. She’d known exactly what Aros was capable of, and trusted him wholly to do it.
She’d seen him — even clearer than I had.
And he was right to follow her blindly into this war.
Those crowns were earned by her just as much as they were her birthright.