46. Thatcher
Thatcher
I couldn't force a smile. Not even the manufactured one I'd perfected since arriving in this godsforsaken realm. My body felt hollowed out, scraped clean of everything but the raw, festering shame that had taken root during the trial.
Bellarium's quarters, usually too opulent for my taste, now felt claustrophobic. The walls wore judgment in every quiver of their carvings. Like they could sense my weakness.
And Kyren. I could still see his body crumpling.
He'd died a hero. And I'd given in to base desires conjured from my deepest vulnerabilities.
The perfect woman. She'd been beautiful, yes. Yet what haunted me was how completely I'd forgotten everything in those moments. Forgotten Thais, forgotten our mission. Forgotten myself.
And then... our parents. Standing there, whole and alive and smiling at me, like they were waiting for me to come home. The illusion had been so perfect, so real. Sulien's weathered hands. My mother's kind smile and indigo eyes—my eyes.
I'd known it wasn't real. Somewhere, buried beneath the desperate longing, I'd known. But I'd wanted it to be. Gods, how I'd wanted it.
"That was intense."
I startled. Chavore stood in the doorway, his usual bravado dimmed. His hair was disheveled, his eyes shadowed.
"We didn't know it was happening," he added, stepping into the room without waiting for an invitation. "That this would be the third trial."
I could only nod, not trusting my voice. My throat felt raw, as if I'd been screaming, though I couldn't remember doing so. Maybe I had.
The viewing portals had shown our shame to everyone, our deepest longings laid bare.
Chavore sank into a chair across from me, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Do you want to talk about it? What you saw in there?"
I considered refusing. But his expression seemed genuine, and the weight of what I'd experienced threatened to crush me if I kept it contained any longer.
"At first it was just a woman," I said finally, my voice sounding distant even to my own ears. "Mind you, she was the most perfect woman I’ve ever encountered."
Chavore huffed a laugh. "Yeah. You seemed into that."
Heat crawled up my neck. It was humiliating to know they'd all watched me succumb so easily, so completely, to such a basic temptation. Thank the gods Thais had broken through before it had gone too far.
"And then it was my parents," I said, the shame giving way to a deeper ache that felt like it might never heal.
Chavore nodded, giving me his full attention. "Were you all close?"
I stared out the window into the moon-lit sky. How much could I safely reveal? "My mother died when I was a child. But Sulien, my father..." My voice caught. "He was great. "
"I've never really been around my mother either," Chavore said after a moment. He reached for a crystal decanter on a nearby table and poured two glasses of something amber. "We've met, but it was very awkward and formal. When given the chance to meet her again, I decided against it."
He handed me a glass, and I took it, surprised by the personal revelation. I'd never considered Olinthar's romantic entanglements, or lack thereof. Looking around at the pantheon, I realized that while most of the Twelve had heirs, none seemed to have partners aside from Morthus.
"Is that common among the Twelve?" I asked, taking a sip of the drink. It tasted like liquid fire and honey, warming my chest. "To be... solitary?"
Chavore swirled his drink. "The concept of an heir doesn't naturally occur to those who never die." He said it matter-of-factly. "Once one of the Twelve had an heir, the rest basically followed suit. Creating contracts with lesser Aesymar with powers they wanted their offspring to have."
"Contracts?" I echoed.
"Creating the perfect chess pieces," he clarified with a humorless smile. “That would grow into pawns for strategic alliances, powerful combinations."
The revelation made my skin crawl. Divine heirs, bred to be useful. I thought of Thais and myself, accidents of Olinthar's lust rather than strategy, yet still caught in the game.
"It's hard to wrap my head around all of that," I said honestly. "The strategy and planning." I hesitated, then decided to push further. "Where does Elysia fit into all of that?"
Chavore's laugh was surprisingly resentful. "Well, I suppose I didn’t turn out to be the best bargaining chip in the end. No thunderclap army at my heels, no world-breaking blade, no flaming wings of judgment. Just… insight. Not something Olinthar would find a much worthy tool for negotiations."
"When we were in Pyros, Elysia told me that Olinthar really supported your relationship," I said, remembering her bragging about the King's approval.
Chavore's brow furrowed. "When were you in Pyros with Elysia?"
I scrunched my eyebrows, confused. "What do you mean? You brought me there after the banquet."
He stared at me blankly, as if struggling to recall something just beyond his grasp. He shook his head slowly. "Gods, I feel like I'm losing my mind sometimes."
He stood abruptly, moving to the window. How could he not remember? We'd spent hours there.
Had it been some kind of test? Or was something wrong with Chavore?
"I know it may seem unfair for a prince to complain about much," he said after a long silence, his back still to me.
"But my father and I have a unique relationship.
" He turned, his expression oddly vulnerable.
"You have your father and your sister. And sure, I've never been alone, but I don't think it's anywhere near the kind of relationship you have with them. "
The raw honesty in his voice caught me off guard. I found myself responding in kind before I could think better of it.
"When Thais and I were brought to the Trials, the priests killed our father," I said, the admission burning my throat. "Because he was housing us."
Chavore's face crumpled slightly. "I'm so sorry. That is such a tragedy." He crossed back to his chair, leaning forward earnestly. "I do wish there were better ways to go about it. But it's dangerous for the blessed to be around the masses."
The words came out sounding rehearsed, as if they'd been drilled into him since childhood.
Anger bubbled up in my chest—not just at him, but at the entire system that had cost Sulien his life.
When I looked at Chavore, at the sincere distress in his eyes, I realized with a jolt that this was just how he'd been raised. What he'd been taught to believe.
And I couldn't risk showing too much of how I actually felt .
"My father never once told me he wanted me to stay in Sundralis with him," Chavore said quietly, staring into his glass.
"It was decided I would pledge to Bellarium from the start.
It's not like I even had another sibling to compete with, but I still always felt second best. Like I was never enough. "
He’d never asked his legitimate heir. But he’d asked me.
We fell into silence. I found myself understanding that feeling more than I wanted to admit.
Not to the same degree, perhaps. Thais was a cherished piece of me, my twin, my other half.
But there had been times when I felt second best to her.
Her powers presenting early had shifted both Sulien's and my existence around her, reorganizing our lives to protect her.
It was no one's fault, but Sulien and Thais had always been closer in some ways.
Still, I couldn't imagine feeling second best to someone who wasn't even there—to a realm, to a throne, to expectations that could never be fulfilled.
I looked over at Chavore, my brother who didn't know we were brothers, and for some reason, I felt hurt for him.
Maybe in another life we could have acknowledged each other in that way. In another world.
But not this one. In this one, I would have to remember that no matter how genuine his pain seemed, he was still Olinthar's son. Still part of the system that had destroyed everything I loved.
And no amount of shared understanding could change that.