Chapter 3
“So, you’re the noble lieutenant here to protect me from the rats in the kitchen and the spiders in the attic, then?” the goddess said, leaning into her chair. She crossed a thin leg and placed her hands on either armrest.
“My queen.” The man’s voice was disarmingly smooth, like velvet against skin.
Her lips parted slightly as she watched the muscles in his back shift beneath a fitted uniform.
The crimson cloak he wore, clasped at each shoulder with two golden swallowtail pins—the emblem of an officer early in his military career—framed his broad shoulders.
His lethal beauty was sobering in the candlelight, and she shifted in her seat, praying she hadn’t become as translucent as she now felt.
The lieutenant bowed low with predatory grace.
A lock of chestnut hair fell out of place across his smooth brow, and Tethys couldn’t help but notice the web of veins on the back of his large, calloused hand as he tucked it behind his ear.
She nodded to Phaon, and the servant, as dutifully as ever, refilled her chalice.
“Please soldier, have a seat. It seems we’ll be spending most of our time together, so we might as well get acquainted,” Tethys said finally, her voice laced with venom that could rival the most lethal of serpents.
She gestured toward the vacant ladder-back chair at the opposing end of the table.
Araes cleared his throat and unclasped the leather baldric hanging at his hip.
Metal clanked as he passed the blade to Phaon.
The short-sleeved tunic he wore dripped down his chest, the strands of its tie had loosened during his travels, revealing the arc of a soldier’s build beneath white cotton.
Araes was by far the most handsome mortal she’d ever seen, with his bright amber eyes and powerful jaw.
The bob in his throat was well-defined, giving him an air of sharp masculinity, rivaled only by the statuesque marble sculptures residing in the manor’s exhibition hall.
“My queen, I shall uphold my duty to the highest of standards. You have my word,” he said, placing his fist across his heart before sitting—the soldier’s gesture of the highest honor.
“Yes, yes, you’ve sworn your life to guard me until any end.” Tethys stabbed a lone grape with her fork. “We both know I do not require a guard dog.”
“The Venian council suggests otherwise,” Araes replied, crossing his arms against his chest. His tunic wrinkled at the wrist, exposing thick black ink.
Venian soldiers, as they rose in the ranks, branded their bodies with souvenirs, reflecting their kills on the battlefield.
It was an archaic rite tracing back to the earliest of Venians, and, in Tethys’s opinion, was one that should’ve faded with time.
But the eastern realm clung to their traditions tighter than snakes strangling their prey.
Being early in his career, she supposed his marks ended at the forearm. Any further up the body was only reserved for the most decorated of officers.
She placed the grape in her mouth and watched Araes’s eyes follow her lips as she opened, then closed again to chew.
Immortal beauty was the deadliest of weapons.
Like moths to flame, mortals fell entranced by her physical form.
It was sickening, really, how desperate a mortal man became for even just a flash of an intrigued smile or glimpse of a bare ankle.
“Eat. I’m sure you’ve worked up an appetite from your travels,” she said.
Araes raised the chalice Phaon placed beside him. His brow and cheeks were wind burnt and faint dark lines curved under his eyes. He must be exhausted from the travel.
Exhausted from the war. Her eyes softened.
“Please. Eat. From what I’ve heard about your history, you’ve earned it,” she said. Her voice lowered with each syllable as her shields wavered.
The lieutenant nodded and helped himself to a full serving of roast. Silence hung heavily between them as they finished their meals.
Every so often, Tethys found words wandering up her throat as if to make quiet conversation, but this man was a stranger, an intrusive force in the sanctuary of her home.
She hated how stiffly he sat opposite her, how his massive hands wrapped around her fine silver utensils.
Each ticking second was kindling for the furious blaze roaring within her.
Her anger wasn’t directed at Araes, he was simply following orders.
No; it was toward the spidery old nobles that sat on her high council: Kalos, Drakon, Alisia, Messene, and Ophis.
Their motives were clear in placing a guard dog in her home.
He was to keep her chained, docile.
She tensed. The cool metal fork bit into her palm until it drew blood.
“All rise for King Procyon,” the servant outside announced, whipping Tethys from her spiraling rage. Eos above, the whiplash was constant these days. Araes rose to his feet and stiffened to attention. Like a loyal little soldier, Tethys thought, the grape on her tongue souring.
“Ah, Lieutenant Araes, no need for formality, please, relax,” Procyon said, placing a hand on the mortal’s shoulder. Tethys watched Procyon puff his chest and grin. She rolled her eyes and sipped her wine.
Fucking men.
“I trust the journey wasn’t too tiresome,” he said, taking his seat beside Tethys. Had they been in Canissa, she would sit beside Procyon’s place at the head of the table. However, this was her realm. Her domain. And so, much to Procyon’s opposition, he sat beside hers.
“It was a grueling ride, Your Highness. So it’ll be nice to spend some time back home,” Araes replied. His voice was a half octave deeper than Procyon’s and she knew her brother had noticed.
“Good, good. I bet your wife will be enthralled to have you back in her bed,” Procyon chuckled and slurped an oyster from his plate. Tethys’s stomach turned as she watched the salty juice drip down his beard. Her brother truly was beastly.
“I am unmarried, and even if I was, I wouldn’t be residing with her while carrying out my orders,” Araes said. The way his lips strung together each consonant and vowel was ragged from years on the battlefield, but also silky with honor.
Tethys hated the way the sound scratched an itch at the far corner of her mind. Yes, he was beautiful, and slightly entrancing. Yes, she couldn’t stop watching his lips. But he was nothing more than a loyal dog to her jailers. This she was sure of with every fiber of her being.
“Where will you be staying?” Tethys asked, watching as Araes forked a slice of roast from the serving platter.
“Daddy dearest didn’t tell you? Oh, this’ll be good,” Procyon chuckled. “He’ll be staying at the manor.”
Tethys nearly choked on the wine as she sipped from her chalice once more.
“What? Why?” she asked, stiffening in her chair.
“With the tension between our realms still rising, I’ll be returning to Canissa in the morning.
Depending on how long it takes to locate the idiot mortal leading this little rebel group, I might not be back in Venia for a while.
Lieutenant Araes here will keep guard all hours of the day,” Procyon said.
Tethys bit her cheek. She wasn’t surprised the council would jump at the opportunity to place their little rats, but stationed in her home?
Not even the staff resided here. This manor, once being Eos’s earthside home, was left to her and her alone.
It was her safe haven. The place she didn’t have to piece herself together or maintain a level of presentability.
Now, with the constant presence of another, where would she go when she fell apart?
“I’m sorry Lieutenant, but no. I do not need nor want a cohabitant.” Tethys scowled. Her lower back ached from the stiff posture she’d taken. The sliver of what remained hers was rapidly narrowing more and more. How much could they take from her until they had everything?
“It’s not your decision, Tethys. Otto has already given the order. He will stay here,” Procyon’s voice was stern.
Araes swallowed hard, clearly uncomfortable at the predicament he’d found himself in.
“And does Otto not answer to me?” she asked. Her fist cracked against the mahogany table as she rose to her feet.
“Let’s not get hysterical, little bird,” Procyon huffed. “Otto takes direct orders from the council. You’re welcome to appeal their decision, but with Father’s backing, well…I’d not waste my breath.”
Araes settled into his chair. His face was a mask of indifference as he bore witness to the Autumn King’s derisive remarks.
Tethys bit into her cheek harder, her canines pressing into scar tissue until she tasted the tang of iron.
Waves of trembles rushed through her body, threatening her undoing.
She pinched the bridge of her nose and breathed deeply, coiling her rage back around its spool.
“Proc, please. I will not share a roof with a complete stranger, let alone one of the council’s little weasels,” Tethys snapped. This was her home. Her realm. And yet, not a soul in it allowed her the freedom to truly live in it.
“It is for your own protection, Tethys,” Procyon replied with an arched brow. Her anger…amused him? Rationality pleaded against her, but she sank deeper into that blinding rage.
“I do not need protection! Not in my own home. My own realm. Am I not also an Immortal Child?” Tethys’s voice cracked as she felt her regained control slowly slip away.
“Yes, you do. You can’t defend yourself against these rebel men. If they ever got past the city guards, they’d come straight here. Straight to you sleeping soundly in your bed,” Procyon growled, his voice rippling with the temper just beneath his skin. She’d struck a nerve.
“I may not have magic like you and the others, but I’m not helpless. This man will not be staying in my home. He can sleep in the gardens for all I care,” Tethys seethed.
“Maybe I should give you some privacy, Your Highnesses,” Araes suggested, rising to his feet.
“No, Araes, finish your meal, good man,” Procyon said, gesturing to what remained of the platters before them. “The queen is just throwing one of her tantrums.”
“I am not a child. I refuse to allow this.” Tethys felt her composure break. Red hot anger seared up her throat.
“Do not test me.” Procyon’s voice lowered, chilling the room like autumn’s first frost.
Her body froze in its frigid tendrils. Suddenly, she was a child again, pinned to the floor by her brother’s elbow with a dinner knife pressed to her throat.
He’d drawn blood over a collection of glass marbles gifted to Tethys by their father, now scattered along the tile floor.
Tethys could still feel the cold edge of the knife collapsing her vocal cords.
Tethys swallowed hard. She considered pushing Procyon further, but given his fingers now white-knuckled with growing agitation, it was best to swallow her protest.
“Fine. As the council wishes it,” she spat. “But after sunset, I don’t want to see you, hear you, or even sense your presence.” She pointed a long, elegant finger at the lieutenant.
His brow arched and dipped his chin in a slight nod. “It will be as if I don’t even exist, my queen.”
“Good. Now, I’d like to retire for the night,” she snapped. A cool sweat dampened the nape of her neck as she took her leave. Procyon would surely request a certain sort of sendoff before his departure, and after their argument he’d be more monster than man. She flinched at the thought.
The fiery woman she’d briefly uncaged shrugged back behind bars as Tethys climbed the stairs to her bedchamber.
Of all she desired in life, her deepest want, maybe even need, in this moment, was simply to cease to exist. To shut off all emotions as if a switch controlled them.
Maybe then she’d accept the life she’d been given.
Maybe then she’d live through it as if she sat in the audience, watching every action, both happy and sad, play out on the stage before her.
Maybe then she’d fully comprehend why the universe was unrelenting with its razor-sharp cruelty.