Chapter 9 Nyssa
Nyssa
Aros was more right than he knew — only the Primals were of any real calibre in close combat, with two notable exceptions: Aphrodite and Hestia.
Neither had any skill with bow, blade, or fists — they’d be sitting ducks unless we could, at minimum, hone some solid defensive skills into them.
But — perhaps naively — I hoped for more.
I wanted to impart as much information as I could in the hope that it gave them some small chance of survival.
And then there was Evadne.
Aros’ twin rivalled all of them, including her brother.
My newest and only member of the Queen’s Guard had an above-average skill level in almost every area of combat.
It was obvious that Evie had dedicated her life to her craft, honing her body as well as any blade.
The only thing that seemed to be slowing her down was a tendency to let emotion dictate her strikes.
Aros smirked, taunting her, and Evie responded not with the sharp edge of her blade, but instead with the hilt — slugging Aros beneath his unsuspecting chin.
Thrown off balance by the strike, all it took was an extended foot and slight nudge for gravity to do the rest, and Aros was on his backside in the dirt.
His laughter rumbled across the open space as Evie grinned down at him. He took her proffered hand, brushed the sand off his admittedly muscular ass, then called everyone over to him.
Minutes later, I watched as he led the cohort through a series of tests to assess what skills each of them possessed — and which they didn’t.
Unsurprisingly, Apollo and Artemis excelled in archery, but also demonstrated finesse in hand-to-hand combat, each struggling to best the other.
Athena blazed through swordsmanship and shield manoeuvres, Hermes was leagues ahead in both short and long distance footraces, and Nike was almost as proficient as Velira in aerial feats.
Haras struggled with archery, but was a natural-born leader. He took the stragglers under his wing, gently instructing them on different defensive techniques to some success.
Caelus breezed through all the tests. When it came time to demonstrate his power, only a flicker of anxiety trickling down our bond gave me any inclination that something was amiss. Still, he hit his mark — only half an inch off centre — and locked eyes with me across the open field.
Focusing on pushing my words down the right thread, I asked, Are you okay?
His face shuttered. Fine.
Caelus—
I said I was fine, he snapped.
Affronted, I withdrew. A minute later, a tentative murmur echoed through my mind.
I’m sorry. How is everyone else doing?
About as well as expected.
His reply was nothing more than a surge of dread. Then: We have some work ahead of us.
We do.
Shoving aside the sliver of hurt I still felt, I turned my attention back to the tests. Aros was now walking each of them through another round of swordplay, assessing them all individually — against himself.
Erato possessed no skill with a sword. All were too heavy for her to wield, and she huffed a frustrated breath, a heartbeat from meltdown.
“If I were a betting man — and a betting man I was — I’d wager she could hold her own with those daggers,” my imagination whispered.
A sickening combination of doubt and concern festered inside my gut as I called out to her. “Use your daggers. Aros — your sword against her daggers.”
He frowned, but allowed it.
Our surprise mirrored each other’s as Erato not only managed to fend off every attack from his sword, but also surreptitiously held a sharp point to the underside of his balls in an attack no one saw coming.
Wide-eyed and wired, Aros quickly conceded, and before she could flounce away to join Aphrodite, smirking on the sidelines, I called her over.
Never one to waste time with small-talk and pleasantries, I dove right in. “You knew him, didn’t you?”
Erato’s perfectly sculpted brows flinched, her whole body reacting. The transparent fabric of her split skirts trembling as she almost conceded a step.
I knew I was right before she opened her mouth.
“Damn straight she did,” my mind agreed in Charon’s cockiest drawl.
“I did,” she confirmed, straightening. “You have my deepest condolences, your grace.” Her head cocked to the side, full lips pouting in contemplation. “If I may ask, how did you know?”
“That last move” — I grinned — “he taught me that one, too.”
Her eyes flicked away and her lips softened into the softest of smiles. “He pulled it on me once. I demanded he immediately teach me how he did it,” she said, laughing.
“Much to Aros’ chagrin that he did, I’m sure.”
“Indeed..” She smirked, inclining her head before withdrawing to a noticeably more subdued Aphrodite.
As the afternoon wore on, Aros tested them further.
Pan and Dionysus had an almost unparalleled knowledge in plant uses — be it anything from poison to poultices — only Demeter surpassed them.
She coaxed seeds out of some tiny weed that had managed to break free of the arena floor, whispered to the bounty in her cupped hand, and blew them into the air.
Moments later, saplings sprouted out of the earth, vines pierced the arena walls, and grass carpeted an entire quarter of the open space.
I watched as the saplings grew into enormous oaks and beeches, and the vines extended their limbs like elegant fingers.
They wrapped around the branches and banisters like a lover’s caress, creating a viridescent canopied web stretching far above my head.
The gods fell silent — awestruck — and the animals hooted and howled.
. Glaucus landed gracefully on a high tree limb, keeping his watchful yellow eyes trained on the combatants.
Rufus pranced merrily into the trees. A familiar sapphire-toned serpent raced across the floor, and disappeared into the six-inch high, buttery-soft grass.
“Sorry,” Demeter chuckled sheepishly. “I got a little carried away.”
I considered her for a moment, noting for the first time how her eyes almost matched mine — same shape, same long lashes — the green just a few shades darker.
A smile split my face. “Don’t be. It’s a wonderful addition to the arena. We have absolutely no idea where Kronos will launch his war from, and our soldiers will be far more adept if they’ve learned to fight around unyielding trees, in tight quarters.”
Aros nodded. “Aye. We’re going to need every advantage we can get.” He turned to address the entire group. “Split up! Apollo, you’re to instruct a group in power-wielding. Artemis, you’re to instruct archery, and the rest of you will come to me for weapons training.”
They separated as Aros called names and designations. Caelus shot a glare at his friend as he was sent off to work with Apollo.
Leave it be for now, Velira advised. Let him try to work through whatever plagues him on his own.
Yes, mother.
My dragon nipped playfully at my shoulder before the muscles in her legs coiled.
She launched herself into the sky, beating her wings furiously to gain altitude, then looped and twirled with a grace that belied the enormous beast that she now was.
I laughed as she snapped as a passing dove — thankfully not the snowy white one belonging to Aphrodite.
“Fancy a rematch?” someone called.
I whirled, coming face to face with a woman I had hoped never to see again.
A woman I’d faced in this very stadium just a few short months ago.
“Diana.”
The blue serpent suddenly made a lot more sense.
Artemis’ daughter grinned wolfishly. “The last round wasn’t exactly fair, what with Athena interrupting it.
” The smile fell from her face as she dropped into a low bow.
“I apologise for the part I played in Hera’s duplicity.
Neither my mother nor I had any inclination of her true motives, and I’m sorry for helping her attempt to achieve them. ”
I blinked, taken aback by her candour and apparent guilt.
She kneeled before me with zero regard for the dirt besmirching her outfit, keeping her eyes trained on the ground, even as the arena fell silent to witness.
Vel landed with a resounding thud to my right, snarling at the goddess bowed before me, and I felt, more than saw, Caelus sidle up to my left, ever the protector. The bond in my chest purred at his proximity, like a fucking cat on heat.
“Queen Nyssa,” Diana said, her voice loud enough to echo across the arena.
“Upon the River Styx, I pledge myself to you — to your cause and to your rule. I swear to follow you from this day until my last, into war and the peace beyond. I shall raise my sword alongside yours, and use my body as your shield, if ever the need arises.”
My lips parted, though no sound would come out. Diana — Diana — had taken a Guard’s oath, tweaking it so that it offered her no route of escape.
“Do you accept, your grace?” Artemis asked softly — anxiously — having approached cautiously when her daughter took a knee.
And though I had not offered her the position — would not have ever considered it of my own volition — I cleared my throat, knowing I had but one choice.
And surprisingly, I found I didn’t mind making it.
“I accept your oath and your service.”
“Seriously?” Aros whined. “I have to deal with her too?”
Diana’s head snapped up, her eyes round with shock.
“I… was not expecting that answer.”
“Were you expecting banishment, then?”
For that was the only thing awaiting those whose oaths were rejected or broken.
“I don’t know, your grace. Perhaps?” She grimaced.
“I hate that title. Please, call me Nyssa. And I could use your skill with a bow today.” I shot her a rueful smile.
“How so?”
“We need another archery instructor. Relieve your mother of the position — that is, unless you’d prefer to demonstrate the various effects of, say, belladonna poisoning?” I crooned, only half teasing.
Diana blanched, jolting to her feet and retreated to the archery targets without another word.
“And as for that rematch…” I called after her.