Chapter 2
Procyon, like a parasite, remained by Tethys’s side in the weeks that passed after the wedding and coronation.
Every night as the sun sank beneath its horizon, foreboding weighed on her chest until she could barely breathe.
After Procyon fell asleep, she’d peel his sleep-heavy limbs from hers and escape to the balcony.
Although the fresh night air was a small reprieve from the stench of entangled bodies, his touch lingered on her skin like a brand.
Amidst the cricket chirps and rustling gardens below she’d weep for her older sister, begging the stars to whisk her away to their heavenly resting place.
Polaris never answered the plea.
Day after day, in a blur of numb monotony, the sun rose gently in the sky and Tethys, haunted by moments from the night prior, was already awake to greet it.
This morning, like most, she sat on the settee in the study, mindlessly flipping the pages of a leather-bound tome in her lap.
Leaning against the armrest, she huffed a sigh and reread the words of a sentence for the third time.
The joy she felt from her books was now simply a nuisance.
She wanted to feel numb, devoid of all emotions.
And so, she turned her head to the window and watched the sun rise above the horizon. She prayed for the day when her body wouldn’t ache and her head wouldn’t scream filthy memories at her. But she was immortal. That day might never come.
“My queen…” After what seemed like hours passed, a servant entered the study and bowed his head low. “Keeper Obscuros requests your presence this morning.”
Tethys stiffened. “Was the king alerted as well? He hasn’t yet risen for the day.”
“The primordial requested your presence alone, my queen,” the servant said, shuffling his feet.
“Alright. Thank you, Phaon,” she replied, nodding to the servant. He bowed again stiffly, and, like a field mouse alerted of its predator, scurried out the richly carved door and disappeared down the hall before it clicked shut.
Obscuros only held council when absolutely necessary.
With the passing of millennia, the leash he kept on his immortal children loosened.
The tethers of trust, thickening with time, were strongest with the eldest daughter.
Now it would take an event of catastrophic measure for Polaris to be called to council.
In more ways than one, she’d simply vanished into the snowy blur of the North, left to rule her people as she pleased—unbothered and entirely trusted.
Altair followed suit shortly after, melting into the seaside like the rising tide.
Even Procyon, despite his short fuse, Obscuros trusted to reign amongst the westerners entirely. Until war broke out, of course.
Tethys, on occasion, endured the daggers of their father’s frigid indifference during their discussion of eastern mortals at war or the western blight causing shallow grain stores. She and Procyon were always summoned together, though. This would be the first council he’d requested of her alone.
Tethys closed the book she’d been reading and returned to her bedchambers with a lingering wariness that wrapped its talons along her throat.
“I’ve been wondering where you ran to.” Procyon smirked. His thick brown hair was still disheveled with sleep.
“I was in the study reading. Father has called on me this morning,” Tethys said, wrapping a shawl around herself.
“Obscuros? Called upon you?” He sat up, disbelief wrinkled across his brow. “It must be important, then. I’ll accompany you.” Procyon rose from their bed.
Tethys flinched as she watched his naked body stretch away the cramps of sleep. His casual demeanor felt just as much a violation of her body as everything else.
She stifled a shudder and suppressed the memory, fixing her pained gaze on the small forget-me-nots carved along the bedposts.
“Dress quickly, then. I’d prefer to stay in Father’s good graces,” Tethys said.
“Tethys, darling girl, I hate to break it to you, but that ship sailed long ago, and I don’t foresee it returning to port anytime soon,” Procyon scoffed and disappeared into the bathing chamber.
Tethys bit her tongue before her retort could escape the narrow space between her parted lips.
She didn’t need to flare his temper this morning.
Not with the unknown cause of Obscuros’s summons trembling along her fingertips.
An hour later, they stood before the massive oak carved doors of Venia’s High Council. Tethys’s scalp ached from the pins clasping her curls in place, her skin oiled beneath the thick paste of makeup the chambermaids applied.
“Well, shall we enter the wolf’s den?” Procyon flashed her a grin and held out his hand. Out of tradition, she placed hers in his. He grasped her fingers a bit too tightly and ascended the marble steps.
Golden sunlight gleamed through the chamber’s arched windows, illuminating the grand marble table at its center. Four gilded armchairs with ivy carved up their back rests sat vacant. At the head of the table, however, was Obscuros. Shadows slithered at his feet like hungry eels.
Obscuros scratched the crook of Crucis’s ear.
The wolf sat beside him, alert and eager for command.
While the muscles in its thick broad chest relaxed slightly, its gleaming yellow eyes fixated on the two immortals standing before them.
Tethys swallowed a shiver as her eyes connected with the two dagger-sharp canines visible beneath its wrinkled snout.
“I believe I only requested Tethys’s presence,” Obscuros said.
His voice was deep and dark, like the blackest of nights, sending a frigid wave of terror down Tethys’s spine.
She watched Procyon’s throat bob. Her brother was a vile, shameless beast of a man with unwavering confidence.
To see his powerful knees quake in the presence of their father brought her a slight sense of satisfaction.
Procyon cleared his throat before risking a step forward.
Tethys made to follow him, but the low, menacing growl that emanated from Crucis’s throat froze her in place.
“My apologies, Father, I must have been misinformed by the servants. I will take my leave if you’d like,” he said, dipping his chin.
“No, you’re already here. You might as well stay.
She is your wife and so this pertains to you as well,” Obscuros said, looking unimpressed.
“Now, the reason I called on you this morning is of the utmost importance. As I’m sure you’re aware, General Otto sent word of an impending attack from a band of western rebels.
I guess your union hasn’t dissuaded everyone from attempting to kill each other.
Why you haven’t been able to keep your mortals in line, Procyon, is beyond me. ”
Procyon flinched at their father’s raised brow. His long brown hair stood on end, reminding Tethys of a terrified fox. Even the beads laced through his thick, gruff beard trembled.
“Tethys,” Obscuros continued, flashing his midnight eyes at her, “until your magic manifests or these rebel attacks cease, you are to remain guarded. Unfortunately, the higher-ranking officers all have their hands full with the rebels, but General Otto has selected an up-and-coming lieutenant to be your escort. He is returning home to the city as we speak and should be here by nightfall.”
Tethys’s fists curled. She didn’t need a bodyguard. A mortal one at that. She may not have her magic yet, but she still was an immortal. She’d survived hundreds of years just fine on her own.
“Procyon, it appears your people need some…redirection. As soon as the lieutenant arrives and is briefed, return to Canissa and sort this mess out with those imbeciles you consider your council. Do not disappoint me again,” Obscuros commanded.
“Yes, Father, I assure you this will be resolved,” Procyon replied, dipping into a bow a tad lower than necessary. Tethys loosed a shallow breath. At least Procyon was returning home. He couldn’t touch her on the opposite side of the continent.
Obscuros nodded slowly and rose from his seat. The daylight pouring in from the windows at his back bent around him as if his presence alone terrified the sun’s beam.
“Good. That is all.” With that, he and Crucis vanished into a plume of shadows.
“Don’t get any ideas about this handsome, noble lieutenant.” Procyon smirked, his demeanor normalizing.
“Oh please, Proc. How could I ever have eyes for anyone but you?” Tethys’s brows dipped, and she exited the chamber, leaving her brother to his wounded ego, and returned home.
? ? ?
“My lady!” a voice shouted from behind Tethys as she approached the manor’s entrance.
Procyon, insisting she return home without him, had matters to attend to that were deemed ‘far too important’ for her involvement.
The hemline of her peach, gauzy dress dragged across the gravel driveway as she turned to see Jaide hastily approaching the manor.
“Jaide, I didn’t know you were calling today,” Tethys said, her voice pebbling. Jaide tried calling on her after the coronation; however, Tethys made herself scarce. She’d been making herself scarce for the last few weeks, if she was being honest.
She wasn’t sure she was ready to see her friend, her confidante. Jaide would be the shoulder to cry on, the ear that listened, and the friend she truly needed right now, but shame hurled insults at her heart. So, she retreated to the safety of total isolation.
Tethys was a muted, half version of herself.
She’d deteriorated too rapidly. Given up too easily.
Had she even put up a fight? Had she refused Procyon’s advances?
No. She simply accepted the fate laid before her, succumbing to it in a matter of minutes.
Jaide was the strongest woman Tethys knew.
She’d never raise her white flag so quickly.
What would she think of this carcass of a goddess standing before her?
Tethys didn’t want to find out.