Chapter 14 Nyssa
Nyssa
After Caelus’ insistence that Aros need remove himself from the bathroom so we could extricate ourselves from the tepid bathwater — and Aros’ audacious refusal to follow his orders, because he wasn’t king yet — I rolled my eyes at the pair of bickering gods and stood up anyway.
Water sluiced down my body, leaving my black silken nightgown plastered to every curve, its hem sitting indecently on my upper thighs.
The effect was instantaneous.
The room instantly filled with the mingling scents of caramel and whiskey. Their arousal set my nerves alight, triggering my core to throb so insistently I had to clench my thighs together to smother it.
Which did not have the desired effect.
Gritting my teeth, I stepped over the rim, slightly jerkily thanks to the heady fragrances filling my lungs. Aros offered a hand — which I ignored — and I stalked right past him, out the door, and left a trail of water leading all the way back to my bedchamber.
A singular, helpful huff of breath from Velira later and I was instantaneously dry.
The perks of having bonded a dragon grow more numerous each day, I sent along whatever thread linked our souls, laughing at her scaly raised brow.
I just didn’t want you sniffling and snotting all over my neck during flight training later, she snarked back.
That’s if we make it to flight training.
Neros is not your fault.
Isn’t it?
I thanked my violet balcony gargoyle, rolling my eyes at her hypervigilant stare when Caelus stepped into the room, towels in hand.
“Oh,” he murmured, head tilting as he registered my now-dry nightgown.
I grinned, stepping out of the lacy slip — a little slower and more suggestively than strictly necessary.
“Another benefit of bonding a dragon,” I said, my voice coming out huskier than I’d intended.
A copper flush rose to his cheeks as he stood just inside the doorway, unmoving. He was so still, so silent, I wasn’t entirely sure he was breathing.
“What’s taking you two so long?” Aros called, sashaying right in, bumping Caelus out the way — and likewise freezing in his tracks.
His mouth gaped, akin to a fish, clearly having not expected to walk in and see his new queen completely naked.
An unexpected laugh bubbled out of my mouth, and I turned, baring my back to them. A groan sounded behind me but it was anyone’s guess which of their throats it originated from. The resulting smirk that graced my lips as a result was anything but humble.
In a matter of minutes, my familiar black gear was back in place, hugging my muscles like a second skin. I passed the time waiting for Caelus to finish donning his own — thoroughly enjoying the show that was his ass in tight breeches — by lacing my favourite boots at the end of my bed.
“Ready to go?” my storm-wielder rumbled. He slid the last dagger home in its slot on his lower back in a way that was unintentionally, yet obscenely, erotic. “If you keep looking at me like that, Nightshade, we’re going to be very late to the party.”
Aros scoffed from where he’d thrown himself face-down on the bed beside me.
“Some party,” I squeaked out. Clearing my throat, I launched to my feet and raised a hand to conjure the shadow door. Before it could fully form, however, a flicker of movement just beyond the half-crafted arch caught my eye and my gift instantly evaporated, shadows melting into the obsidian floor.
From their remnants darted a grey spectre. It rushed me — terrifyingly fast — so fast that I screamed.
“Nyssa?!” Aros shouted at the same time as Caelus yelled, “Nightshade?!” — both unsheathing weapons that would be of no use here.
Because, before me, flickered the ghostly outline of a middle-aged man.
His eyes were the only part of him that remained constant, the rest of him fading in and out of view as he pinned me with unblinking accusation.
Caelus stilled beside me when the man began to wail, accosting our eardrums with his pitch.
“What’s—” Aros began.
“Shh!” We hissed as the shade’s cry began to mutate into decipherable words.
“Death has arrived this night,” he moaned.
“One who is meant to bring light has instead brought darkness to our shores… the skies bleed in his presence… the oceans burn with his wrath… and they did not save us. They did not save us, they did not save us, they did not save us…” His wails began anew, rising in volume with every word until the shade extinguished himself — exploding in a cloud of grey smoke — leaving one last lingering note of despair in his wake.
Caelus and I exchanged a grave look.
What do you suppose that means? he asked me.
I’m sure we’ll soon find out.
“Hellooooo? Can somebody please fill me in now?” Aros interrupted, waving his arm between our faces. He pointed at me. “You screamed” — his hand swung round to Caelus — “you froze” — his second hand pointed at me again — “and you both shushed me!”
I bit my lip to keep the laugh contained. Trust Aros to turn a worrisome situation into something hilarious — whether he realised he was doing it or not.
“Honestly, it’s just a bit fucking rude now that you’re together and you have secrets,” he mock-whined.
“Calm down, Aros.” Caelus frowned. “A shade was here.”
The flamewielder tensed, his eyes going wide as they darted around the room.
“Is it still here?” he whispered.
I couldn’t hold back the laugh any longer. A snort escaped as I floundered with the concept that a god of war was seemingly terrified of a remnant of death.
“No, I said it was here,” Caelus grumbled. “Or are you hard of hearing, too? Shall we drop you on Apollo’s doorstep so that he might teach you to sign fluently?”
“Alright, no need to drag ol’ Sunny Boy into this,” he griped. “Although, in the spirit of honesty, he scares me a little, too.”
A second snort found its way out of my nostrils and Aros frowned in faux reproach.
“That needs to be addressed later,” I interceded before grumbling could escalate into thrown fists and broken furniture. I liked my bedroom exactly as it was, thank you very much.
Humour soon vanished as I considered my next words. “I think the shade was a Nerosian soul. I think that Sunny Boy’s prophecy has begun to ring true.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Caelus answered, “he spoke of death. Of someone who was supposed to bring light instead choosing to bring darkness. And he mentioned the phrase ‘the skies bleed in his presence, the oceans burn with his wrath.’”
And if I’d ever doubted that death had changed Caelus, that comment removed any lingering hope that he, perhaps, remained unchanged.
“Oh,” Aros breathed.
“Oh, indeed.”
The Parthenon felt sharper tonight. Its columns lay exposed to Selene’s glistening moonlight like a thoracic cage — open and chilled — the breeze passing through like frosted breaths.
Perhaps it was due to the fact that I was still sporting scalded skin from my unintentional foray into someone else’s lived experience.
“Tell me again,” Aph said. “You dreamt it? You felt it? How?” Her face contorted in a series of expressional backflips as she asked her questions. I don’t think I’d ever seen her quite so perplexed.
“I don’t know how or why, but yes.” My answer came out in a croak, my voice still scratchy — shredded from the screams I’d subjected it to an hour earlier.
I pivoted, turning my back on the beauty of the night sky to face the harsh reality of a chamber filled with concerned gods, goddesses, and halflings.
Flickering candlelight illuminated the myriad faces all staring back at me and I skimmed over all of them until I found the golden gaze of the person I’d been searching for.
“Apollo,” I rasped, signing the rest. Have you ever heard of this happening before?
The god of sun’s eyes narrowed, his lips pursing to one side as he considered my question.
Eventually, he shook his head then lifted his graceful umber fingers. They hovered in the air, slightly flared, almost as if he were hesitant to spell out his thoughts.
To my knowledge… This has never been experienced before.
Any hope tentatively lingering within me burst.
He eyed me curiously, as though I was a puzzle he was desperate to figure out.
That makes two of us, Sunny, I thought. I’m an enigma.
Vel snorted her scathing amusement aloud, abandoning her usual favourite corner when she realised I was shivering. Her large frame simmered away quietly, warmed by her flame-filled belly.
“Bring in the messenger,” I ordered quietly.
Aros immediately sprang into action, marching over to the large marble doors. He cracked one open, spoke softly to whomever waited outside, then threw it wider, allowing them to pass.
A quivering demi-god rushed in, stumbling over his own feet in his haste. After quickly introducing himself, he hurried into a stuttering ramble about where he’d been sent earlier in the day.
“Paeon,” I interrupted. “Please get to the part about Neros.”
“O-o-of course, your grace. I was across the s-strait, in K-kardia,” he stammered, naming Hestia’s dominion in the mortal realm. The people who resided there worshipped her above all others in the pantheon.
They were predominantly women and children — favouring a matriarchal society — and a generally peaceful sort of folk who valued family above all else.
They even went so far as to harbour orphaned children from any of Ephemeron’s other lands — children who would otherwise be discarded as merely another mouth to feed, and therefore a waste of time and resources.
Hestia fidgeted on the edge of her throne, reaching for and clasping Demeter’s hand tightly.
“My people — how do they fare?” she asked haltingly.
Paeon turned, dipping his head before answering. “All is well in Kardia, my Lady of the Hearth.”
She sagged, visibly relieved. However, it was no shared solace — each Olympian was equally desperate to learn of their own peoples’ fates.
The messenger swallowed roughly before speaking again. “As I s-said, my queen — I was in Kardia when I f-felt it.”
“Felt what?”
“War, Majesty.”