Chapter 18
An hour later, Tethys, with masked eyes and buzzing head, found her way to the first floor parlor.
Jaide said her goodbyes for now and disappeared down the upstairs hall into one of the more exotic rooms of the townhome.
The two friends had much in common; however, there were certain tastes far too bold for Tethys and her limited physical experiences.
She preferred to pour another drink and converse with the other seemingly vanilla individuals.
The late hour glazed over Tethys’s skin with a lingering sweetness from too much wine already. Reckless as it may, be the orb’s weight still gathered in her skirts. There was work to be done, but not until tomorrow. For now, Tethys yearned for the freedom of conversation and drink.
The parlor was fairly empty save for a few men chatting in low voices gathered around an antique mahogany hutch housing a litany of aged bourbon bottles, and three women giggling opposite them, feigning interest in the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
Although her head spun with intoxication, Tethys’s presence still commanded the attention of everyone in the room—men and women alike.
Her face may have been glamoured, yes, but she still gleamed with an unmatched beauty like a polished gemstone in the sunlight.
Typically she shied from the attention, hating the way those around her carried out head to toe inspections like she was an artifact on display.
Tonight, however, she’d use it to her advantage.
Tethys took a seat on the sofa adjacent to the other women glaring daggers toward her.
She chose her seat strategically, sitting directly in line of sight of a certain thin, tall man.
He wore a simple white mask that contrasted the jet black hair at his earlobes.
Their eyes connected and she tossed him a casual, toothless smile.
Another in hopes of maintaining anonymity wouldn’t ask too many questions. Perfect.
The gemstone burned holes through her thin linen skirts, but she washed the thought of it down with another swig of brandy. The room spun slightly and glimmers of stars lined the edges of her vision. Maybe she’d numbed herself too much in the drink, but it was too late now.
She’d made her decision…even if she danced between bubbly and sloppy. Reckless or no, this reprieve from life’s austerities felt good, and she couldn’t stop herself from reveling in a drunken stupor.
“Have you lost your way, or have you found yourself here on purpose?” the man asked her, his voice like velvet along her skin.
He took a seat next to her so close his pant leg brushed against her.
The glamour of a new flirtation, the mutual consent of two strangers sharing a glass or two of brandy, was a refreshing change from reality.
She could feel the other sets of eyes lingering on her skin.
If they wanted a show, she’d give it to them.
“I have yet to decide, sir,” she replied, bringing her brandy glass to her mouth. He watched as intently as a hawk as she parted her lips and took a sip, entirely captivated by her sheer presence.
Little did he know he was her prey. For the first time in a long time, she was in control.
“May I ask your name?” he asked, extending his arm around the back of the sofa.
“No, you may not,” she responded, smirking at the slight amusement rippling in his electric blue eyes.
“What a curious little thing you are,” he mused, leaning so close his lips brushed against her ear.
Tethys felt the warm exhale of his whiskey-stained breath down her neck and steadied herself against the cushion.
Heat pooled in her low belly. Her body hadn’t been excited like this since her first arrival in Venia.
There may have been a lord’s son or two she’d taken to bed, but that part of her life felt worlds away.
Tonight, though, the familiar flutter of seduction felt like an old friend.
She could feel the cocoon spun around her heart loosening.
After so much time of molding herself into the desires of others, here and now, she was free to be whoever she wished.
She didn’t have to be Tethys, Venian Queen, and Patron of Dawn.
She could be just a simple, consenting woman looking to satiate her desires. Her blood warmed.
“Although I’m enjoying this banter of ours, I think I’d prefer a bit more…intimate of company,” she said, her voice low, rough and unfamiliar.
“Lead the way,” he said, tracing a fingertip across the curve of her collarbone.
The man rose and offered Tethys his outstretched palm.
She took it, smoothing her skirt and followed him out of the parlor.
The gemstone blazed in her interior pocket, demanding her attention again, but she tucked those mysteries away.
They were tomorrow’s problem.
A woman scoffed at the couple as they passed. Perhaps she had an eye on this handsome stranger. Tethys imagined the calculating preparations the circle of women made in support of their friend.
The couple followed a candlelit hall past the kitchen and Lord Ophis’s back office. With each step the anticipation of what was to come built within her, tightening in her belly, leaving her breathless.
The man motioned to the open doorway at the end of the hall and they entered the library.
Tethys stood before the roaring central fireplace.
She wasn’t sure if it was the fire’s dry heat, the drink, or the click of the lock behind her that caused sweat to bead at the nape of her neck.
Her head buzzed with blurry thoughts as the man approached, his swaggering stride both excited and terrified her.
She closed her eyes as rough hands swept away the curls that hung loose down her back, tucking them over her shoulder and exposing the sensitive flesh of her neck.
Sucking in a breath, she tilted her head as cool lips brushed over her skin, throwing shivers down her spine. Utter desire pooled between her legs.
She let out a short, drawn out breath as the man wrapped his arm around her waist and tightened his grip.
“I think…” he said, running his hand down her breast. She threw her head back, entirely overwhelmed by the sensations kindling within her. “That perhaps…” His hand was low now, trailing fire down her belly, across her hip. “You’ve lost your way.”
Cold, sharp steel pressed against her neck and her eyes shot open.
She choked against the pressure of the man’s silver blade and squirmed under his grasp. With every inch of movement, however, he pushed the dagger’s edge further into her skin, cutting off her airway, on the verge of drawing blood.
She was a trapped dove, frantic to fly, and entirely at the mercy of her captor.
“What—what do you want? Please, let me go,” she begged.
“My brothers and I have been attending Ophis’s parties for months, but never did I think you’d walk right into our palms. What a stroke of luck, don’t you agree, Goddess?” The man’s words were an arctic blast through her veins. Warmth dripped from her neck as he dug the blade’s edge into flesh.
“Let me go. I’ll pay you handsomely. Whatever you request, please,” she whimpered, flinching from his touch as he brushed his fingers against her cheek. The back of his hand, so delicate pulled? something like that along her skin, left a trail of frigid ice.
“Did you think that silly little mask would hide your identity? It couldn’t possibly mute your immortal aura enough to disguise you, Tethys.”
“The crown’s pocket is deep,” she reiterated, clawing at the man’s grip around her. Her heartbeat boomed in her ears, quickening with every tick of the clock mounted above the fireplace’s golden mantle.
“You immortals and your fortunes. Throwing coins at problems rather than taking action to repair the damage you’ve caused. I don’t want your blood money,” he spat.
“What is it then, please?” she asked.
Tethys’s eyes darted from corner to corner, scanning the room for anything to aid in her escape.
An iron poker leaned against the fireplace’s stone exterior.
If she could just break free she might be able to reach it in time.
She slammed the hard part of her head against the man’s brow.
He dropped the blade in reflex and his grip around her neck loosened just enough for her to wriggle free.
She dove for the poker, the roaring fire nearly singeing her cheek as she landed on her elbow. Hard. The bone let out a nauseating crack, sending her rolling across the floor in white, hot agony.
“Fucking bitch,” the man growled, lurching for her. He was too slow, though. Tethys may not have had any magic, but her small physique allowed for speed. She jumped away, ripping her skirt from the man’s grip and pointing the poker against his exposed chest.
“You will address me as my lady, my queen, or Goddess,” she spat, pressing the poker into his flesh. The iron tip dug through his skin into the muscle and the bone beneath it. The man grimaced with fiery hatred, his eyes blackening into lethal rage.
“I will never accept you as queen,” he growled. With a free hand, he unfastened the arm of his linen tunic, exposing the thick black tattoo that twisted and twirled around a heavy, battered scar up his forearm. The lines crept across his skin like a parasite.
“You’re a soldier?” Tethys asked, sucking in a breath.
“I was a soldier. My unit was ordered to slaughter a lesser village searching for the rebels. Do you know what it’s like hearing a woman and child, barricaded in their home, burn to death?
” the man asked. Tethys’s heart sank. She hadn’t been briefed on any Venian invasion.
If what this soldier said was true, what else was General Otto redacting from his reports?
Before she could formulate a response, however, the windows beside them slid open and four more men with the same white masks crept inside, each holding a glittering, silver dagger. Their blades reflected the moonlight now beaming in from the night.
“I suggest you lower that poker, my queen,” the man said, enunciating her title mockingly. The little foundation of freedom she’d built swiftly crumbled beneath her, leaving her in a situation far more dire than before. One man she could perhaps take down, but five? She didn’t stand a chance.
She swallowed the thick sludge rising in her throat.
“Take another step and your accomplice here gets iron through his heart.”
The man furthest to her right, a broad-shouldered redhead, scoffed at her and said, “He doesn’t care if he lives or dies, so long as you get what’s coming.” He enunciated the words with a heavy twill, suggesting a Canissaen dialect.
Tethys felt cold, clammy hands grip her wrists. Her captor applied just enough pressure along the bony edge to cause her hand to flex, and she dropped the iron poker.
“What becomes of me when I take an immortal life?” the black-haired man she had pinned asked as he rose to his feet. He smoothed back his hair and removed the mask, revealing high cheekbones that matched his sharp, pointed nose.
“Total destruction,” Tethys lied. In reality, she knew what would happen.
Because her magic never manifested, immortality hung by a thread.
Her very essence would seep into the earth.
Just as Eos and Astraeus, her body would turn to stone and her soul…
well, no one truly knew where it would go.
Her death, although leaving a people void of their ruler, wouldn’t cause environmental catastrophes or imbalance in the natural world as her siblings’ would. She was entirely expendable.
“We all know that’s a lie,” he said, licking his lips as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and polished the silver blade. “Regardless, I’d like to find out.”
Tethys squeezed her eyes shut and attempted to pull her wrists free from the captor that clenched them against her back. Her effort was futile, however. He was too strong. She cursed the magic that had betrayed her.
The man stepped in close, leaving merely an inch between them. His rough hands wrapped around her neck and trailed down her chest. To think only twenty or so minutes prior she’d allowed him to trace circles against her body. Her stomach turned at the thought.
Before she could protest, he ripped the lilac fabric and exposed her bare flesh to the night air. Her skin crawled as he removed her shift entirely, leaving her as naked as the day she came into this cruel world.
Tethys wanted to scream and cry and claw at her captors. She wanted to lunge at the man and tear him to shreds. However, the dissecting eyes from every direction paralyzed her where she stood.
Realization that she wouldn’t make it out of this library alive hit her like a falling boulder impacting ground.
She closed her eyes to greet death. At least she’d find peace from the torment of this life.
A tear formed from the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek, falling from her chin and splattering on the stone tile below.
“Killing me won’t win your rebellion,” she muttered.
The man shrugged and pressed his blade into her sternum, aiming precisely at her heart.
He was a soldier, after all. He’d know all the killing blows.
She loosed a breath, letting her fists relax and her heartbeat steady.
If this truly was the end, then she’d be graceful in death.
She glanced at the clock ticking above the mantle—half past four.
Dawn was approaching, but this time, she wouldn’t be there to greet it.
A crack of splintered wood thundered through the room, interrupting the needle-sharp agony at her chest’s center. The grip around her wrists loosened abruptly with the thud of a body hitting the floor. Her eyes shot open.
A whirlwind of brown hair and deadly muscle flew by her, knocking the man to his feet. A heartbeat later, the man lay dead on the floor, bleeding from a gash across his abdomen.
The other captors hit the floor one by one as Araes danced through the room. His waltz was a lethal one. With glorious precision, his blade sliced and stabbed and slashed.
Tethys knelt, her knees cracking against the wooden floorboards, captivated by the lethal prowess of an exceptionally skilled warrior.
Her breath stilled as she followed his predatory movements across the room.
A growl escaped his throat as he sank his weapon into the last man standing.
The redhead dropped to his knees, stunned into silence by the blood saturating his white linen tunic.
Tethys slipped back into her torn dress, her hands shaking too much to fasten what few buttons remained intact. The orb, still safe in her pockets, practically glowed hot against her touch. Tethys’s eyes wandered back to the clock.
Only four minutes had passed between the time Araes crashed through the ornate double doors and all of her captors lay dead.