CHAPTER NINE #2
It was funny how you didn’t know exactly what you truly were capable of until you were placed in a situation where you had to find out. That said, I wasn’t in any way thankful for the opportunity. My life at Phoenixia hadn’t been exciting, but I had at least been safe.
I tried not to think too much on how I’d been yanked from my old life.
It would be too easy to get swallowed by the anger and resentment that I hadn’t fully shaken off—those emotions would only distract me, and I couldn’t afford for anything to mess with my focus right now.
The consequences of failing Xalbia would be too dire.
As the words on the page once again swam, I rubbed at my eyes. A yawn crept out of me before I could stop it. I was pretty sure my state of lethargy was made worse by the fact that the effects of ichor were still playing havoc with my system.
The power continued to purr beneath my skin, just as it continued to sometimes cause physical sensations like itching and aching. Thankfully, the effects still never lasted long.
Aside from healing even faster than before, I hadn’t shown any demonstrations of power. Really, there was no guarantee I ever would. Allegedly, no Sayers had been fed ichor before—at least not according to Vesper. Even the Sovereigns weren’t sure what to expect.
“What are you reading?” Khalida quietly asked, cutting into my thoughts. “Because it doesn’t seem to be what you should be reading. Tut, tut, tut.”
I flicked a look at the encyclopedias I’d set aside in favor of the historical text in front of me. “I’ve memorized as much as I can about Deimos’ beasts,” I whispered. “I want to learn more about the wars that went on between the half-bloods after the primordials left.”
There had been no more recent attacks on the city, but another two fine cracks had formed in the foundations of the fortress. For some reason, the Sovereigns hadn’t fixed them.
The attack had to be directly connected to it, but no one was sure yet how. They were, however, convinced that there would be another battle at some point.
Humming, Khalida leaned over to get a better look at the page I had open.
“I’ve also been reading up on the Uprising,” I told her. “I had no idea until now that Sarpedon was behind it.” The deceased half-blood was in fact a brother to the three Sovereigns.
She nodded, her expression sober. “He wanted to reign over the gods, and he made several of the other half-bloods all sorts of promises if only they’d fight with him.”
“And those half-bloods really found it so easy to turn on their parents?”
“It doesn’t make sense on paper,” she said, lowering her voice even further, “because these are biased accounts. The gods’ scribes wrote them, and said scribes were never going to write ‘the half-bloods likely tried staging a coup because the gods weren’t always benevolent.’”
“So it wasn’t just Vitus who could be cruel?” I asked, thinking of what he’d done to Talon.
“No, they all had their moments. They even put many half-bloods through Xalbia-type hells to see how strong they were and gauge whether they were a threat to the gods’ power.
Some were too powerful for their liking and so were killed—including Sarpedon’s consort, which was part of why he began the Uprising.
It was really only a matter of time before someone rebelled. ”
I braced my elbow on the table and propped my chin on my hand.
“Maybe so, but he paid for it with his life.” Many had lost their lives during the Uprising.
“I bet the gods thought that by culling the number of half-bloods the battles would stop and there’d be peace.
Except it didn’t work that way. Theseus was determined to reign supreme after the primordials left. ”
“What you won’t read in that book is that Minos and Theseus were once close friends,” Khalida told me. “But not so close that there was real loyalty between them. As evidenced by how Theseus had no issue killing Minos’ only son during the war between the half-bloods.”
“You know, I look at how the ones in the Dark Lands ended up fighting amongst themselves and … it’s like they can’t help it, isn’t it?
” I wondered if it was a case that power bred greed and corruption, or if it was quite simply somehow in the nature of these incredibly powerful beings to destroy each other in their quest to reign.
“Yup. They seem compelled to take each other out—and the Sovereigns. Right now, all the Dark-Land half-bloods run underground unofficial monarchies. They should be content with that. But Deimos is the real seat of power, so they’ll never like not having their ass on a throne here.”
I tapped my fingers on the cool, wooden desk.
“I agree with what the Sovereigns said; it is strange that Scylla might have partnered with Theseus. He killed her daughter in one of their battles. Personally took her life. I wouldn’t do a single thing for anyone who harmed a person I loved, let alone my child. ”
Khalida raised her shoulders. “Maybe Scylla didn’t particularly care for her kid.”
“Hmm, maybe. She is, by all accounts, vicious and cold.” I idly flicked forward a few pages, pausing as a particular one caught my attention.
“So this is Eva.” The mortal Talon loved.
The drawing beside her name depicted her as a curvy, pale, auburn-haired woman who was remarkably beautiful.
“This may seem like an odd question, but does she always look the same when she comes back?”
Khalida’s brow creased. “I’ve actually never thought to ask that, so I’m not sure. I doubt it, though.”
Skimming through the information on the page, I hummed thoughtfully. “She really did help with the Uprising. If she hadn’t overheard Sarpedon’s plans and forewarned the gods, things might have happened differently.”
Khalida nodded hard. “Hence why she was offered the prize of immortality. Though she turned it down, they never retracted their offer. She could have changed her mind at any time. She just never did. Not even when the gods warned her that they were leaving our realm and wouldn’t be back for a long time, meaning she’d be ‘stuck’ as a mortal. ”
That she hadn’t chosen to spend eternity with Talon didn’t really scream ‘love’ to me.
How could you love someone yet leave them over and over?
It would be different if she’d intended for them to go their separate ways, but not to repeatedly reappear in his life and expect him to welcome her each time; not to repeatedly put him through the pain of having to lose her again and again; hold her dead body again and again.
Taking another look at the drawing of Eva, I cocked my head. “Is it just me, or does she slightly resemble Skye?”
“It isn’t just you. But despite that she must surely remind him of Eva’s first body, he’s never touched Skye.”
Ignoring how my stomach seemed to protest at the mere thought of him touching her or anyone else, I closed the book.
“Maybe that’s why he’s never taken Skye up on her invitations.
He might find it weird due to the resemblance.
” Idly tracing the book’s bumpy leather binding, I added, “I still can’t help thinking how hard it must be for him to walk in skin that isn’t meant for him. ”
“I know.” Khalida leaned back in her chair. “It must make it so much harder that he’s expected to protect the sons of the being who changed him.”
“I was reading about dragons a few minutes ago.” I flicked the pages back until I found the one I was looking for. “I didn’t know it was believed that the four statues on the battlement are actually real dragons turned to stone.”
Khalida pulled a face. “Some believe it. Not many, though. It seems odd that the gods would encase the last remaining dragons in stone, but it’s said that they’ll be freed once—or if—the gods return to this realm.” She shrugged.
“They’re truly magnificent, if the drawings are anything to go by,” I said, skimming my fingers over said drawings.
“Typhaos was the most badass,” said Khalida, pointing at the black dragon.
“He was the Alpha of the horde. Echidna was his mate; she mostly patrolled the border of the isle, and usually by water—it turns out dragons are awesome swimmers. Ladon guarded the golden apples at the Garden of the Gods, and Campe mostly guarded the Black Tapestry.”
“It’s crazy to think that the half-bloods almost wiped out an entire race of beings. It’s even crazier that the primordials left their unruly children to their own devices and returned to their realm.”
“Agreed. I wonder if maybe they thought that their absence would calm things down.” She sighed. “Sometimes, I wish at least one of the gods would get their ass back here and deal with them.”
“Do you think they ever will?”
“Not really. You?”
“I’d like to believe that they would, because then there’s hope that things might one day change.”
“My father always said it’s dangerous to hope.”
Funny. Mine had said that we had nothing without it.