Chapter 11 #2
“I’m only kidding, dearie. We sell a variety of wares.
Ointments and salves primarily, but also knitted hats and shawls.
Husband’s a root farmer, but the herbs native to the region make for wonderful medicinal balms. See that jar on the end there…
” she pointed to the shelf of various amber-glass bottles and bowls.
“Peppermint. It’ll aid the nausea for the rest of your travels. ”
The goddess unscrewed the lid and wafted the herb’s sharp scent.
The old woman hadn’t lied; it was peppermint.
The herb, an invasive plant, grew in vast patches of woods behind their familial home.
Thriving in shaded, moist undergrowth, it practically took over the forest floor in spots.
Even now, the full-nosed scent brought Tethys back to simpler times when Polaris would collect peppermint stems and midnight irises for their mother.
Tethys, dusting off the cobwebs of memory, offered the woman a sad smile and produced two gold coins from the leather pouch she’d tucked into her trouser pocket. The woman grinned with two gaping holes where her front teeth should’ve been as Tethys placed them in her outstretched hand.
“Keep the difference,” she said.
The woman dipped her chin in thanks and pocketed the coins.
“I’d only been half joking earlier, you know,” she said as Tethys started for the transit chariot. The goddess paused.
“What do you mean?” she asked, giving in to her curiosity.
“I mean, dearie, our wares vary past what is seen on these shelves. Pay us a visit after dusk, maybe you’ll find something you didn’t realize you were searching for,” the old woman said, her beady umber eyes starkly bright against the dense morning mist.
Before Tethys could ask what the crone’s cryptic words meant, a certain broad-shouldered lieutenant approached.
“My lady, if you’d like to browse Algola’s marketplace, you require an escort.” His voice was clipped and gruff from hours on horseback.
“I assure you, Lieutenant, I do not need an escort to go a couple of paces away from the convoy,” Tethys replied, her lip curling into a scowl.
The intrigue of the crone’s words, however, still held strong as she reluctantly followed Araes back toward the bustle of chariots unloading their luggage and stores for resupply.
Procyon, having deemed Algola a sufficient stop, returned to the continental chariot and now discussed the itinerary with the drivers.
“We’ll stay for the night, and push on to Canissa on the morrow,” he commanded. The drivers nodded promptly at each order and disappeared down the convoy line.
“Lieutenant Araes, it’s good to see the convoy didn’t leave you to dust. You must be exhausted,” Procyon said, inflating his chest. The current of power h drew hummed in the very ground itself. Tethys fought the urge to roll her eyes. Clearly her husband was putting on a show.
“It was tiresome, my king, but I’ve traveled worse distances. During the war there were many times our unit had to ride through the night to arrive at our new post in time,” Araes replied, his voice unflinching amidst the rumble of power. Tethys knew he wouldn’t recoil in Procyon’s presence.
Over the last few weeks of their time together, Tethys came to learn that Araes was insufferably skilled at reading people. Even she, who took pride in her ability to mask herself, felt as translucent as glass in his presence.
“Excellent news, Lieutenant. While we’re in Canissa, your services won’t be necessary. I shall escort the queen myself,” Procyon stated. His words, although simple, thickened Tethys’s blood until it slithered through her veins like sludge.
“With all due respect, Your Highness, my orders are clear. Remain by the queen’s side at all times,” Araes replied, standing his ground with stiff shoulders.
Tethys clicked her tongue. This back and forth power struggle was growing tiresome.
What next? Would Procyon demand to see Araes’s cock and insist his was larger?
“The queen,” she hissed, “does not require an escort. Now would both of you imbeciles please get back to preparing the convoy for the evening?”
Araes stiffened against her interjection, but Procyon merely laughed. She risked the insult she slew at the two males, but luckily it landed with ease. Why Procyon was in such high spirits, she wasn’t sure.
His simple chuckle in response sent a patter of nerves through her.
Maybe she’d experience the wrath of his reprimand later, but for now she let that dread roll off of her shoulders.
She was out of that godsforsaken chariot.
The air was crisp, and her pounding headache finally subsided enough to think clearly.
“Lieutenant,” she said, branding Araes with a glare that would send even the bravest of soldiers fleeing. “Take the evening to relax. Although not the most lively of pit stops, I’m sure you can find a pub or two for your leisure.”
The hard muscle in his jaw flexed, but Araes merely dipped his chin and turned his back to them. Tethys watched as he made for his horse, and although she’d never admit to it, something like sadness panged her heart.