Chapter 22 #5
Damn. Should he call for the guards to help subdue her?
In a fair fight, he and Batea were evenly matched.
But Batea was always more than happy to fight dirty if it suited her.
There was no telling what would happen once he involved a melee of guards.
For all he knew, Drakon was perched atop the roof of the palace as they spoke, ready to devour whoever threatened her.
And if she slipped away without divulging the antidote…
“Then take your blade away from my neck and speak.”
“No. First, a test.”
“You think you have any right to—”
“Abaris.”
That damned cursed name. Did she suspect he was soul-swapped? Again?
“As you can see, neither of us are in any pain.”
“What colour is your hair?”
“Red. What is this, Batea?”
“Well, at least if you’re cursed, you’re not as bad off as Dia, poor old bat,” Batea sighed. “I’m going to remove this blade very slowly. You do something stupid, and I’ll stab you with something worse.”
“You really think you could?” he asked, almost amused.
“I know I could. You’re always far too reckless, assuming you can heal yourself,” she said, carefully lifting the blade from his throat and quickly stepping outside his reach.
Theron turned around slowly and glared at his cousin. She wore the garb of a palace attendant and the himation of a common labourer, muddied and threadbare at the edges. Gone were her courtly trappings. Instead, she appeared as if she’d been on the road for weeks.
“And what is this now, if not the height of recklessness? You break into my room before dawn and put a blade to my throat hours after god-napping the statue of Knowledge in the company of dualists? I could have protected you had you simply come to Altanus with Drakon’s head.
Now, the temples are calling for yours. What in the Loom are you thinking, coming back here? I don’t want to kill you, Batea.”
“But you will, because it’s what your duty demands?” she asked, mockingly.
“Damn you! I have precious little family left. How dare you put me in a position where I’m expected to hunt you down and execute you! I needed you by my side.”
“I am on your side, you fool. And I’ve been far too busy to steal a statue,” she scoffed.
“We never really had a chance to go over what happened while you were in Boreas. I didn’t leave the palace to hunt dualists.
I got word that some of the Aurean nobles were acting strangely, so I used the excuse to investigate.
I’ve continued that investigation now that I have good reason to be out of Altanus. ”
“Got word? From whom?”
She shifted nervously. His heart fell to his knees. Instinct told him whatever she was about to say was going to be bad.
“From…the dualists.”
He groaned, pinching his brow. How could she be so thrice-damned foolish?
“Triad’s tits, Batea, you can’t be serious. How could you possibly trust them? They tried to attack the palace!”
“Because I asked them to,” she said quietly.
Her words, spoken so softly, slipped a knife into his heart.
“You…you’ve betrayed me?” he asked, reeling.
“I’ve never betrayed you, Theron.”
“You encouraged enemies of Aureum to strike at the heart of the kingdom! How is that anything but a betrayal?” he hissed.
“I needed a justification to leave the palace and investigate without suspicion.”
“Are you…a dualist then?”
A tense silence descended on them, and every moment that passed only deepened Theron’s despair.
“Yes, Theron, I’m a dualist. I always have been,” she said, standing up straighter. “I won’t apologise for it either. We insult the goddesses by refusing to acknowledge all their facets.”
The world shifted under his feet. Batea. A dualist. Liar. Betrayer.
Traitor.
“Does Myrina know?”
Batea pressed her lips in mulish line.
“This isn’t what I came here for. Listen to me, the nobles have—”
“You will answer me. Has the woman who raised me like a mother also betrayed my trust?” he asked, his heart in his throat.
Batea sighed.
“It wasn’t her secret to divulge. And despite your crown, not everything is about you, Theron.”
His heart was made of shattered glass, the jagged edges piercing his chest. Theron had thought being betrayed by his fated the morning after their wedding had been the worst betrayal he could suffer.
He was wrong. Triad, what a wretched state.
He reached for the healing magic that was silent inside him.
But no magic could heal what his cousin had broken.
“And this is precisely why I didn’t want to tell you.
My dualism isn’t a betrayal of our bond, Theron, it’s simply new information for you.
I have always been your cousin, your loyal sword.
I didn’t come here to hurt you or fight with you.
I came to warn you that several of the nobles have aligned themselves with Orithyia—Lady Ino among them.
We never knew how they managed to construct the spire so quickly, how they managed to navigate the mountain as if they’d been born on it.
I think some of the Aureans helped. Rescind your order to kill Drakon.
Allow me to pursue the truth without Viridians, Aureans, and the bloody avatar stalking my every step.
I’ll deliver all the evidence you need to strike down our enemies—that bitch Orithyia included. Please, Theron.”
But he didn’t hear her. Not really. Not when the buzzing in his ears drowned out so many of her words.
“Drakon is fated to kill me, did you know that?”
“Is that what your pet oracle told you?” Batea sneered.
“Yes.”
“Drakon will never become the beast she thinks it will. She’s lost her mind, Theron.” Batea shook her head.
“She is perfectly sane. Kill the beast, Batea. If you can do that, I will do whatever I can to protect you,” he said, his voice as hollow as his heart.
“No, you won’t. You can’t. Not against Orithyia. Not until I have enough evidence to ensure Mother or Nerio can depose her and strip her of her magic.”
He’d told her the beast would kill him, and she wouldn’t destroy it. Was this the pain Aurora had felt when he’d refused to do the same? How had she borne it? He pushed it down as best he could, long years of denying his heart put to use once more.
“Is that all you wished to say?”
Hurt flashed on her face before she glowered at him.
“It is.”
“Then tell me the antidote and leave. For all the years we shared, I’ll give you an hour before I inform my soldiers you were here.”
It was the best he could do for her under the circumstances.
“I have loved you like a brother for years, and this is my reward? An hour’s head start?”
She was lucky his instinct was not to give her a black eye.
“You have betrayed me. You refuse to kill the beast that is fated to kill me and has stalked the woman I love across lifetimes. It is a measure of how much I have loved you that I give this hour.”
Her hands balled into fists.
“I will prove to you—to everyone—that my actions have been honourable and just. When that day comes, I expect you to beg for my forgiveness.”
Triad, she sounded like such a petulant child.
“The antidote, Batea,” Theron snarled.
“Ask my mother. Tell her it’s a weak dose of the poison Father gave to a lord who thought he could own her. She’ll know the antidote,” Batea said, reaching under her himation for a pendant—one that bore a striking resemblance to those from Orithyia’s hoard.
Between blinks, she was gone, leaving Theron betrayed, poisoned, and heartbroken.