15. In Which a Queen Cries for Freedom
Chapter 15
In Which a Queen Cries for Freedom
The Shadow Realm somewhere in Tartarus
H er gaze darted to the stone walls enclosed around her; her shoes made soft sounds on the rocky floor as she descended the foreboding corridor. With her world shattered and her people divided, Callassa begrudgingly acknowledged the Pythian queen as her only recourse. Penance for trying to liberate her people, she suspected. The corridor was dark and dank, a foreboding place that sent shivers down her spine even though the air was warm.
At the end of the hall stood a curved wooden door. Her eyes darted nervously back and forth. Unsure of what she’d encounter in this hellhole, she stuck closer to the walls, engulfing herself in shadows. Her knock sounded hollow as it reverberated off the stone walls ominously. A smaller door opened quickly right at the center of the wooden one, revealing dark eyes partially hidden in shadow.
“Yes,” a voice from the other side barked.
“I—” Callassa swallowed and began again. “I believe the queen is expecting me.”
The smaller door slammed shut without a word from the guard. The wood muffled the rattling of multiple chains and the clicking of locks opening. Callassa humored at the irony of incarcerating a queen down this inconspicuous, dingy, little hallway behind chains and locks. One of the most powerful sorceresses in their realm, the most feared creature beside the Titans, the Queen of Pythia, the Dark Oracle, and the best security Hades could manage was a wooden door with a deadbolt.
The door swung open, and the guard stood to the side, motioning for her to enter.
“Thank you, Grurok.” A soft voice came from deep inside the room. “That will be all.”
Grurok nodded curtly and walked out the open door, closing it tightly as he left.
“Tight security, I see,” Callassa said dryly, her gaze bouncing around the room.
When the raven delivered the message that the queen would receive her, she thought it was a joke at first. No one had heard from the Dark Oracle for centuries. She had become a ghost story told to fledglings to scare them into not straying from their parents. But this was her last chance. The repercussions of coming and asking a favor of the queen were many. Callassa squared her shoulders and strode into the demon’s mouth.
Queen Aerelia’s room was sparse in the way that most prisoners’ rooms were bare, but unlike a cell, the room was carved out of a cavern. One could tell a queen lived within its walls, as what was available was opulent. On one side of the room there was a gold writing table, brightly polished. Candles of varying heights and degrees of use stood like worn soldiers along the top, all unlit. The floor was a black, polished stone that almost glistened in the low candlelight from two wood-and-iron chandeliers that hung overhead. Spanning the length of the room and splitting it in two was white, polished stone. The placement resembled a runner in a large throne room. At the end of the white stone runner, there was a broad platform, and upon that sat the queen’s throne. It was well-crafted with red velvet tufted into the seat and back. Carved into the wood atop the high back sat two demons, their wings closed as if they were perched there, waiting for orders. The broad feet of the throne sat atop two human skulls.
A beam ran overhead, positioned lower than the chandeliers, about six feet long. Along the beam were chains with various restraints hanging from them. Clearly, the queen lived up to her reputation of torture for the pleasure of it. Callassa eyed the varying cuffs and chains, shivering again.
“Don’t stand there gawking, child.”
The queen’s words jolted Callassa back to reality. Turning to face Aerelia, she gently rested her hand directly at her chest and thrust it to the side as she bowed low—a salute of respect among her people.
“Come here, child.”
A gossamer curtain separated the throne room from the bedroom. Callassa pulled the curtain back. Her Majesty was lounging on her bed, regal, haughty, like a caged tiger before it devoured its prey. She wore an all-black chiton that splayed out on the surrounding bed. The edging around the hem was trimmed in a red key pattern commonly used by the gods. Her dark hair was loose around her bare shoulders. Her wings tucked neatly behind her. Callassa had heard stories of the queen’s wings, designed to inflict maximum pain on anyone who got close. Even lounging, she commanded the room with a regal air. Upon her head lay a twisted crown of bramble thorns and laurel leaves. In the center was a crescent moon made of agate and polished so it caught the light. It reminded Callassa of her own crown, the one now on another’s head, while her people lay under the rule of a false queen. She wasn’t sure what the protocol was for a dethroned queen approaching royalty who had long ago been exiled and locked away by Hades. In her not-so-former days, Callassa would have bowed to no one, but as it was, she needed a favor, so stroking Her Majesty’s ego seemed best. She saluted and bowed again, just in case the first didn’t count. The queen acknowledged the gesture with a nod of her head.
“Do you know why I agreed to see you?” she began, her tone measured.
“No.”
“I admit, it piqued my curiosity when I received your raven. The Queen of the Sirens needs my help. You must be desperate to ask for an audience with me. Tell me, your little rebellion, was it worth it?”
Callassa prickled at her tone but refused to cower. “I am no longer a queen,” she said through tight lips.
“Ahh, yes. You are now what you always were. A simple whore.”
Callassa bit back the retort that lay on her tongue. She gathered her wits and reminded herself she was here for a reason. “I need your help, Your Majesty.” She bowed her head respectfully, lowering her eyes to the floor so they wouldn’t shoot daggers.
“Go on.” She encouraged with a wave of her hand.
“My island is in shambles; my people are broken. I require your particular skills to help free my people once and for all.”
Aerelia sat up with that and shook her dark hair as she moved. “My help? My dear child, do you not see I am imprisoned here? I am in no position to help anyone.”
“I am here, am I not? And you are the Dark Oracle, are you not? I’ve heard you are very resourceful.” Callassa tried flattery, since asking didn’t work.
The queen seemed to consider that answer. After a few moments, a gleam shone in her eyes, and one side of her mouth quirked up. Callassa fought the urge to shiver.
“I suppose there is something I can do. That is if you’re willing to do something for me in return.”
Callassa didn’t like the sound of that, but backing down wasn’t an option. A deal with the Pythian queen was a deal with a she-devil. The queen moved, and Callassa caught sight of it. She almost gasped but caught herself. As Aerelia repositioned herself on the bed, her chiton opened at her chest, the fabric lying to one side. Positioned at the middle of her chest lay the source of the queen’s power: a single eye—all-knowing, all-seeing—the mystical eye of the Fates. She was a powerful sorceress and oracle in her own right, and when she took on the eye, it made her rival Zeus himself. Her ability to see into the future, knowing all there was to come, made her a threat. And so she was punished, tossed here to rot.
“I am.” Callassa bit back bile as she spoke. She knew she was sealing her fate.
“What is it you seek?”
“A Kalypso Orb.”
The queen considered this request. “A Kalypso Orb?”
Callassa nodded and swallowed.
“The Siren Congress talks highly of you, dear. Or they did before you tried that nasty business of attempting to overthrow them.” She tsked . “I heard you are particularly good at what you do. At bringing men to pleasure only to tear them apart. I need you to prove just how good you really are,” she paused and narrowed her eyes, “to me.”
Callassa’s face flushed instantly. The Olympians had forced her to seduce plenty of people they claimed wronged them. Aphrodite was particularly vengeful. And Hera more so. But she had never been asked to focus on the god or goddess themselves.
“My Queen,” she stammered, “I—uh—I don’t really . . .” She swallowed. “What I mean is, my particular skills are more meant for—”
“Not me, you idiot,” Aerelia snapped. “I have a job for you to do. Naipeia speaks highly of how you are especially skilled in the art of seducing men and reducing them to their most basic parts. Tearing them apart and ruining them.”
Callassa closed her eyes briefly and tried to tamp down the anger that welled up inside her. She nodded in understanding and once again cursed Naipeia for ever joining her court. “And if I do this for you, what’s in it for me? I highly doubt you would just give up a Kalypso Orb. You don’t strike me as a quid pro quo type.”
She might have the skill set the queen needed, but she’d be damned if she used her body for another unthinkable purpose. The gods used her enough; it would be na?ve to think the queen wouldn’t do the same.
“You dare extort me?” Aerelia growled.
Callassa straightened her shoulders. It was now or never. If she had to make a deal with the shadows to gain her freedom, she would. “I don’t doubt you have the power to get an orb. If you were inclined, you could wave your hand, and all this would be over. But you want something of me. Something I have fought a war trying to win back. Something I won’t so easily give away again. I’m asking for payment.”
Aerelia waved her hand. “What is it you want?”
“Freedom,” Callassa said simply, jutting her chin in defiance. Her kind were powerful, but the one thing they had no control over was their own bodies. Freedom meant she would have a say in with whom she shared her body. It meant finally having control over her own life. She craved freedom, true freedom. Not the false freedom of a queen trapped in a cycle of abuse, at the mercy of whoever summoned her to do their dirty work. She would be the master of her own destiny.
Aerelia’s laughter was harsh as it filled the room they were in. “A siren wanting freedom.” She laughed. “A siren can never truly be free. You long for a dream, child. Your kind is only meant to be what they are. You are born into the service of the gods; it is your punishment. Zaphine is your ruler, the goddess of hatred and cruelty.” She was still laughing as she shifted her weight. “That is why you seek the Kalypso Orb? To break free of her? No, child. No. You will do this for me because if you don’t—” Aerelia waved her hand, and the gossamer curtain shimmered. The fabric showed a woman; her soft blonde hair fell in ringlets. Worry etched her young, gentle face.
Callassa gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Melania,” she whispered and shook her head. Her handmaiden. One of the few left that were still loyal to her.
With another wave of the queen’s hand, the image changed to a guard outside an iron prison door—her prison doors in her castle, on her island. Callassa’s stomach dropped. Another swipe showed several more prison cells in quick succession, more of her people behind bars, more guards keeping watch.
“Your rebellion left some of your precious people vulnerable. You’ll help me, siren, because if you don’t, the ones you fought for will meet a gruesome end. These guards are loyal to me. It would only take my word to destroy your last remaining loyalists.”
Callassa glared at the former queen and growled. “You really are the monster they say you are.”
Aerelia seemed to take pleasure in Callassa’s pain. She had to get her emotions under control and beat this bitch at her own game. Then it hit her. She would play on the queen’s greatest weakness.
“I know you have power, greater than you let on, than you allow even Valerius to see. It’s why Zeus is afraid of you. It’s why Hades keeps you under lock and key. You are trapped here, My Queen, but if you were to escape—”
In the span of a breath, Aerelia was on her feet, her hand firmly closed around Callassa’s throat. The queen had her pinned to the wall behind her. She dared not move, fearing Aerelia would crush her throat between her fingers. Her large, mangled wings were open wide, encircling them both. The horns sharpened to talons gleamed overhead in the candlelight.
Aerelia narrowed her eyes, her voice thin. “You would help me escape?”
“Yes, yes, I would,” Callassa said quickly. “If I help you now, you grant me a Kalypso Orb, and I will help you escape your prison for your generosity.” Her gaze fell to the eye at the center of the queen’s chest. It narrowed at her. “As long as my people remain unharmed,” she added. She wasn’t about to make a deal without a failsafe. If the queen wanted a chess partner, Callassa would be sure she set the pieces up herself. She had no intention of losing.
Aerelia was slowly nodding her head, the idea taking shape. The wheels in her mind working, and she could almost see the flashes of fate across the queen’s black eyes. She knew Her Majesty was weighing all options, seeing all outcomes. Callassa’s breath caught in her throat when the queen decided. Aerelia’s face lit up with a gradual smile, contorting the queen’s features into a sinister grin.
“What do you need me to do, My Queen?” Callassa asked, faking a slow smile of her own.
She would pretend to be aligned with the Dark Oracle. Aerelia could snap her fingers and end Callassa’s life; she had that kind of power. The power to give and take lives. The ability to reverse curses and hand out her own form of twisted vengeance. With her people in prison and being watched by the queen’s men, she had to play the hand she was dealt.
Aerelia released her grip on Callassa’s throat and waved her hand in the air. Two gold bangles appeared in her palm. The bangles had black opals encrusted and inlaid with sapphires in a geometric pattern. They glistened in the low candlelight.
Callassa eyed them cautiously. “What are those?”
“You must be human for a significant amount of time. Much longer than you ever have. Wear these; they help you maintain your human form.”
She glanced from her open palm to the bangles several times. Warning bells in her head telling her to be cautious were blaring. She tentatively reached out and touched one but yanked her hand back.
“Go on, dear child.”
Callassa had no choice; she had to gain her freedom. Had to save her friends. Had to release her people from the god’s stronghold. The only thing standing in the way was a pair of enchanted cuffs. She closed her eyes and made up her mind, quickly snatching them from the queen’s open palm and slid one into place. The bangle hung loosely on her wrist. Twirling it in place, she briefly admired the detail of the cuff. As she moved to place the second on the same wrist, Aerelia stopped her.
“No, my dear,” she said, firmly grabbing her arm. “It goes on the other side.”
Callassa swallowed and switched hands, slipping the bangle onto the opposite wrist. She flexed her arms, bending them at the elbows, and watched, mesmerized, as the cuffs slid up and down her forearms freely. Aerelia reached out and stopped her movements. Her eyes flashed, and her grip tightened. The bangles became tight around Callassa’s wrists. She winced in pain and tried to wiggle free. Her grip hardened, and Aerelia stepped closer, inches from her face.
“You wanted freedom?” she hissed. “Sirens don’t deserve freedom. Your kind, my child, were never meant to be more than what you are.” Callassa winced as the queen shoved her away. “You are mine now to do with what I want.” She threw her wrists back at her, the transaction now complete. “Your people will be freed as soon as you complete the task I need of you. I have bound you to me, child. You will never be free.”
She stood gaping. Her mind was a whirl of questions.
“How?” Aerelia lifted an eyebrow, asking the question Callassa didn’t seem to be able to ask. “Your Congress, child. They struck a deal. You in exchange for a much easier queen to control. Why do you think I said yes to meeting you?”
The realization hit her in the stomach and stole her breath. Her corrupt senators. The people she protected, the very ones she fought to free, had traded her to the most sadistic creature on Olympus. They had told her the cost would be steep for her retaliation, but she never guessed how steep. Her head swam as waves of nausea washed over her.
“Now, dear child, let’s talk about what I require from you. I need you at your best, like a good little siren.”
Motherly, almost caringly, she patted Callassa’s forearm. Her own people had made sure she would never see true freedom. She clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking.
Had she been wise, she might have found a way out of this before being magically tethered to the Dark Oracle. But as it was, the possibility of freedom was too great. And, as they say, the cry of freedom makes desperate dealings out of unlikely bedfellows.
And Callassa’s cry was the loudest.