Chapter 10
Theron
It was too late.
Too late to soften the blow for Aurora. To confide his position to her.
Too late to prevent the destruction of his marriage.
To stop her from looking at him as if he were the vilest villain in all of Trisia—a betrayer, a liar, a craven bastard, a man without the barest shred of honour.
Too late to have Batea follow his orders, ones she might never have received if the army arrayed before him were any indication.
Theron’s rage at his cousin was only second to his self-hatred.
He had created Drakon. All the poison Orithyia had dripped into his wife’s ears had been truth after all.
There was no mistaking the beast across the Colonnades.
Red scales glittered amongst the bank of dark clouds, its yellow eyes taking in the whole of the opposing group with a predatory hunger.
A crown of twisted horns served as Batea’s perch on its head.
His heart leapt with dread, bile rising in his throat.
That monster would lay waste to Trisia, as it had done to Aurora’s homeland.
It was enormous, its head large enough for three soldiers to perch comfortably atop, its body long enough to carry a few dozen more.
If it coiled itself, it would easily be the size of a house.
Aurora’s words rattled in his mind.
“I know that the evil you’ve set loose on Trisia will wreak death and destruction for millennia to come unless I can stop you! When you’re nothing but a story, they will dig up the bones of the Aurean damned—people who died because of what you’ve done!”
All those insults and threats he’d taken to be lies. All that rage he’d forced her to swallow because he thought her rantings that of a spurned woman or an enemy. But it seemed she hadn’t spoken falsely. Hadn’t been deceitful in order to disquiet him. Theron’s gorge rose.
“I know when you die, King Theron of Aureum! Do you want to know your epithet? Do you want to know the fate of your kingdom? Ask me, I dare you!”
Merciful Triad, was today the day of his death? Then he wouldn’t allow Drakon to be his legacy—to let the monster his actions had birthed destroy Aureum and all the rest of Trisia.
The Viridians were either fleeing or fighting for some semblance of courage. Leukos was holding his own, shielding Aurora from panicked soldiers and threats alike. Aurora’s gaze was drawn to Drakon, horror writ large in her peridot eyes. He met her gaze once more, and his heart broke anew.
That pain.
That hatred.
His fault.
Theron turned away. He had to stop this.
Here and now. As he urged his loper to cross the threshold from Viridis to Aureum, his magic returned to him in full, the anchor of his homeland setting his soul to rights for the first time in months.
But instead of joy and relief, bitterness consumed him.
Instead of the welcome he’d been expecting, his cousin and his army faced him, ready for a fight.
The Aureans who had come to Viridis followed after him.
But neither the clerics of Knowledge, nor those of Passion crossed the Colonnades.
The high priestesses watched from the relative safety of Viridis as he crossed—Orithyia with her usual sour expression, and Myrina with horror.
Theron turned back to the sight of his cousin, his heart aching anew.
“Batea!” Theron shouted from below, his loper refusing to get closer to the beast.
“Seize him!” Batea commanded.
Betrayal pumped molten fury through his veins. His own soldiers advanced on him, while those who had accompanied him drew their weapons and assumed a defensive position around him.
“Traitors!” Theron roared at the advancing army.
His magic swept out across the battlefield, sinking into the bodies of the opposing soldiers and fracturing them.
The first wave went down in a heap of screams. The wild magic of his loyal retainers shot out from their place on the Colonnades and made short work of those who had remained standing.
Theron enlarged his artefact weapons, pointing the spear at the opposing Aureans.
“I am Theron, the sun of Aureum and your rightful king! Treachery will not be tolerated! Bow your heads or lose them!” Theron’s voice thundered. “And you!” He pointed his spear at Batea. “Kneel. Now. Or I will break Myrina’s heart by killing her only daughter.”
“You and what army, imposter? The true King of Aureum left me to rule in his stead! I’ll not cede this kingdom to Viridian soul-swapped scum!”
For the first time, true fear hollowed out his gut.
He might not be able to turn this around.
His spy and the informant they’d sworn to bring to the safety of Aurean lands had reached Batea.
They’d told her what Flora’s magic was. No wonder his cousin had refused to destroy the beasts.
It was obvious now why he’d not received letters after departing Boreas.
Batea had no doubt convinced them all he was a soul-swapped imposter—Flora’s servile lackey in the guise of their king.
How to convince her that he was who he appeared to be?
Theron grinned. It was a mad gamble, but it was sure to entice his bloodthirsty cousin—and prevent her using Drakon…for now.
“Face me in combat, Batea, and I will prove who I am! Or is the fearsome master of beasts too craven to show me she has fangs of her own?”
Batea guided the beast’s head down to the ground, goaded by his challenge.
The highest-ranking soldiers tried to dissuade her, but Batea had already leapt off Drakon’s head and snatched a soldier’s spear and shield, fiery hatred blazing from her dark eyes.
Theron motioned for his loyal retainers to make room for the fight to come as he got off his loper.
Batea’s airborne soldiers atop the blasted eagles circled the battlefield, archers poised to strike on her command.
“You will pay for taking my cousin’s body.
And then I will have your sorry, broken body tortured until you reveal the location of Theron’s soul.
By the time I’m done with you, you’ll beg me to end your wretched life,” Batea threatened as she advanced.
“And don’t even think of diving into the Dragon’s Tongue River to escape, for I will merely have my beasts fetch you and my healers stitch you back together.
Over and over and over until your mind breaks like dry tinder. ”
With that, Batea lunged with her spear. Theron deflected with his shield. She was rage incarnate, her thrusts powerful. And yet, her emotions didn’t make her sloppy, as they might some. Batea was a consummate warrior.
But Theron had something his cousin did not—magic that turned the tide of a battle.
His magic flooded her left leg and rebroke the bone there. She shrieked and fell to her knee.
“I remember healing that leg when you snapped it falling off your first loper-sized chimera. What was its name?”
Batea grunted with pain, and Theron pressed his advantage, forcing her to back up and take her weight on the broken leg.
“Ah yes, Lord Snout,” he said, healing the leg once more.
“So your vile mistress thought ahead to ensure the imposter soul had a spy’s knowledge and the wild magic of healing. Honestly, I thought such foresight was beyond your rabid bitch of a queen.”
Batea’s next assault left him on the retreat. Her attacks became more brutal, her fury more evident. She held nothing back.
Theron held his own but only just. Stubborn hothead!
“When the palace was overrun by traitors after my parent’s funeral, we hid together at the temple of Passion. It was only thanks to your most vicious beasts that we beat them back and retook the capital.”
“Once again, any competent spy could have told you as much!”
He lunged with his spear, and she defended with her shield, pressing forward and bashing him in turn. Theron barely managed to keep his footing.
Damn it, was he really going to have to speak true secrets to get her to see sense?
“When Tisander died, you said you would be as a sister to me.”
Her next attack faltered, and Theron lunged, his spear forcing her back. Had she finally begun to see sense?
No, her deep brown eyes sparked with the deepest hatred.
“You tortured him?! I’ll fucking kill you! I’ll set fire to Boreas and salt the fucking earth. I’ll fertilize my fields with your queen’s bones and water Viridian fields with the blood of your cursed people.”
Her attacks became more punishing than ever, pushing him back one lunge and shield bash at a time. As if possessed by Vengeance Herself, Batea barely gave him room to breathe, to think, to react before her next strike had him on the retreat once more.
Theron was one brutal attack away from falling off the edge of the Colonnades and down into the rapids below. Sweat slicked his brow, threatening to fall into his eyes and distract him at the moment of truth. No matter which way he thought to move, Batea’s footwork forced him back.
What could he say to prove he was himself?
Something only the two of them knew. A secret that not even the worst of tortures would have pried from his lips.
Bile rose in his throat. There was one secret only the two of them shared—one so dark and twisted it had forever bound them.
The one that had fractured Batea’s relationship with her mother and not even time had fully mended.
One Myrina had divinely commanded them never to speak of again to any who didn’t already know the truth, or all three of them would suffer unimaginable pain.
“Abaris.”
Her eyes widened, nostrils flaring. A heartbeat. Three. No pain. Blood drained from her face. She stepped back, her spear and shield held limp at her sides.
“Theron?” she asked, swallowing. She blinked, suddenly looking like the terrified young woman she’d been on that cursed day. Batea blinked back tears.
“Yes, Batea.”
She tossed aside her spear and shield and knelt before him.
“Please forgive me, my king.”