Chapter 4
Chapter Four
By the time Caldrius and I showed ourselves into the Dragon’s— Hyrax’s—suites, a feast already sat upon the elaborately carved wooden dining table.
Despite his absence, the meal had been arranged carefully, almost artistically.
A platter of roast boar sat in the center, covered in a berry glaze.
Rye bread, aged cheese, roasted vegetables, poached pears, chestnut tarts. A meal fit for a king.
It was as if the kitchens hadn’t even hesitated when they’d been told the Dragon was dead and the God of the Underworld would replace him.
A quarter of an hour passed while we waited for Hyrax to emerge, time spent in an awkward silence that was broken only by Caldrius incessantly tapping his finger against the oak table.
“Does he usually take this long?” I muttered under my breath.
Dark eyes met mine, betraying nothing of his thoughts. “Did you expect him to be predictable?”
After what felt like an eternity of waiting, rushed, heavy footfalls sounded as Hyrax burst out of the far door that led to the bedroom.
“My liege,” Caldrius greeted him, standing immediately and bowing his head in respect.
I followed his lead, rising to my feet, though I refused to bow as I met the steely blue eyes of my father.
Seeing him here immediately struck me as strange. It wasn’t just the oddness of seeing him in the Dragon’s suites; it was the inherent wrongness of seeing him in my waking life, in the Mortal Realm.
I suppose I could say that I had known Hyrax my entire life—even before I actually knew I had the power to cross the Veil, I’d gone to him in my dreams. I’d spent countless nights talking with Hyrax, but I’d only ever seen him in the caverns of the Underworld.
Somehow, interacting with Caldrius here had come naturally, but Hyrax, with his dark, suffocating power rolling off him in waves, was too large for this realm.
Hyrax himself seemed… strange though. Off-kilter.
His silvered hair was uncombed, hanging down over his brow above swollen, red-rimmed eyes.
His beard, usually well-trimmed, was unruly and overgrown.
He wore the finery of a king, a close-cut silver jacket with brass buckles, but it seemed to hang off a frame that was far leaner than it had been when I had last seen him.
“Theadora,” my name was barely a breath across his lips.
And then he was moving towards me.
Grasping onto my forearms.
Pulling me to him.
Hugging me.
Hyrax was hugging me.
I was too shocked by it to do anything other than stand limply in his embrace until he pulled back to look me over, a tight smile resting on his face, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“My dear, you look wonderful.” He beckoned us towards the table. “Please sit; let us not waste this food.”
I glanced at Caldrius, who simply raised a shoulder before pushing my chair in for me after I sat. He fell effortlessly into the seat next to me, trapping me between the God who had borne me and the mad king who had married me.
“How are you?” Hyrax asked me, slicing off a section of boar and placing it atop my plate. “Caldrius explained that you have been taking time to adjust to your new circumstances.”
My new circumstances. I almost laughed and demanded that he clarify what exact circumstances he thought I was adjusting to—the loss of my friends and family, the decimation of my kingdom, or the absence of my magic?
Perhaps all of the above.
“Her power will return,” Caldrius insisted next to me, his tone sharper than I’d ever heard him take with Hyrax before. I glanced at him from my periphery, but he seemed entirely focused on the food he was serving himself.
Hyrax glanced between us before nodding. “Of course. Of course, it will. In time. Though I am sorry you have to experience the lapse at all.”
A burst of tangy blood covered my tongue as I bit down on the inside of my cheek.
Time.
Truthfully, it was his fault I had lost my power in the first place. Pasnia, his wife, had stolen it from me to free him from the Underworld. And now, without my magic, there was no one in this realm strong enough to challenge him.
I doubted he felt sorry for that at all.
“Still,” Hyrax continued, moving on to bring vegetables onto my plate. “You are well?”
He glanced up at me, hands stilling as he waited for my answer. Beside me, Caldrius’ movements halted as well, both men frozen and awaiting my response.
I thought of Iris briefly and the ease with which she could adopt another personality.
“I am well,” I lied through a soft smile, hoping the words seemed more genuine than they felt. “Caldrius was right in saying it is a change. Losing your magic is like forgetting how to breathe. It's painful, confusing, and utterly unnatural. You must forgive me if I needed time to cope with that.”
His brows furrowed, and he jerked forward, as if he might reach out towards me, but he dropped his hand when Caldrius cleared his throat sharply. The two men shared a glance before Hyrax nodded stiffly and grasped onto the potatoes, pulling them towards me as well.
“I can fix my own plate!” I blurted, staring wide-eyed at the food even as I felt a flush of irritation coloring my cheeks.
Caldrius stiffened, and Hyrax looked down at the bowl in confusion, gaze snapping from the potatoes to my plate to my face and back as if he hadn’t even realized he’d been doing it.
Then, his eyes darkened so rapidly that a chill ran up my spine.
“I was only trying to help you, dear. Most people would be grateful to have a father like that.”
Caldrius didn’t even breathe next to me as his arm wrapped casually around the back of my chair.
“I told you she’s rather independent, my Liege,” Caldrius quipped, one edge of his smile quirking up.
He kept his voice light, his posture relaxed, but somehow, I had come to learn Caldrius’ body language. He didn’t keep his tension in his shoulders like most. No, his fingers betrayed him. He curled them up repeatedly, as if he were stretching them, but they were locked and ready.
“You say that as if it’s an insult,” I muttered, glancing at the fingers that once again tapped against the table.
It was only once Hyrax relaxed back into his seat and started fixing his own plate that Caldrius rested his full attention on me.
His brow lifted, his smile turning positively wicked. “Not at all.”
We finished serving ourselves and began eating in a somewhat awkward silence.
Caldrius didn’t seem to have anything to say, I had no idea what to say, and Hyrax…
well, Hyrax seemed more than content simply to stare at the two of us.
Every so often I would catch him glancing at the bands on my hands and smiling appreciatively.
“Forgive me for not being a wonderful conversationalist this evening.” He dabbed at his mouth with an ivory napkin. “I find myself just grateful for your company. I had been getting worried that you were being overly petulant.”
I choked on my wine. Overly petulant? As if I were no better than a spoiled child with my favorite toy taken from me?
He had destroyed my home, taken over my kingdom, banished my friends, and stolen my magic. I had every right to be more than a little petulant.
Hyrax’s gaze locked on me, measuring and assessing, and I felt the presence of his power all around us like another tangible presence in the room.
Caldrius stretched his fingers again.
“Did you know?” I found myself asking, ice coating my words.
I felt Caldrius kick my leg under the table, but I couldn’t look at him. No, I focused my attention on the God who now lifted his chin with narrowed eyes.
Hyrax frowned. “Know?”
“What Pasnia was going to do to me? Did you know her plans?”
Hyrax leaned back in his seat, the shadows at the edges of the room shifting and stirring. Without meaning to, I flinched against the sudden feeling of magic in the room. Magic that I didn’t have.
Because of him.
“Did I know?” He scratched at his beard. “You’re asking if I knew that in her last months my wife was going to abandon me? If I knew that she would rip the magic out of my only true daughter? Did I know she would use her very last breath to bring me here?”
I tightened my grasp on the dinner knife in my hand.
Pointless as it was.
What use was a dinner knife against the God of Death?
“No, Theadora. I did not know that, nor do I appreciate the implication that I was complicit in any harm that may have befallen you.”
Hyrax wrapped his fingers tightly around his fork, the whites of his knuckles showing as he leaned forward again to resume eating. Before he could spear the meat though, he seemed to think twice about it and slammed down the cutlery with an echoing crash.
“Honestly, Theadora!” He scoffed, frustration clear in his furrowed brow. “It’s like you’re not even happy that I’m here.”
“Of course she’s happy,” Caldrius interjected, wrapping a hand around my shoulder and squeezing. “We’re a family now, after all.”
I turned to him, noting the intensity in his eyes, the silent warning and plea to play along with this.
He was worried for me.
Which begged the question… what would Hyrax do to me if he thought I was disloyal?
“Of course,” I agreed, holding Caldrius’ gaze. “I was only curious.”
Subtly, Caldrius nodded in approval, and the shadows in the room seemed to recede.
I swallowed before turning away, forcing my gaze onto the food in front of me. I would have been content to stare at that food for the rest of the evening if it weren’t for a sharp sniffle from Hyrax.
The God dabbed at his eye gently. “I apologize. I just—”
His voice trailed off as he looked at Caldrius and me. With a content kind of sigh, he took my hand in his and ran his thumb over the metal locked onto it.
“You are my daughter.” He turned to Caldrius with an affectionate smile. “And I’ve always viewed you as a son. It brings me such joy to see you together. I only wish Pasnia were here to see it too.”
I wanted to pull my hand away from his frigid touch, but I didn’t.
I’d already risked too much with that last outburst.
So, I let the most hated God in all of history hold on to my hand while we ate our dinner in what he perceived as companionable silence.