Chapter 33
The road back to Venia was colder than the blistering Ursaean winds.
Araes, stoic as ever, hadn’t just repaired the walls she’d managed to crack, but had also fortified them.
With the rising sun, he’d molded back into that brutally emotionless soldier, speaking only when addressed.
His responses were clipped and controlled.
She no longer felt like she was a friend or a lover, but his commanding officer.
Tethys knew he was right in doing so, though.
Aside from his duty to guard her and the complications that may come when feelings are involved, she had a husband.
A husband with an immortal rage and utter disregard for mortal lives.
If Procyon ever got wind of what had happened between them, Araes wouldn’t stand a chance.
He may be the strongest of soldiers and most lethal of warriors, but he was limited in his mortality.
But the way he’d left her ragged and reeling.
She noticed the slight shift in his step just before he’d escaped to his rooms, as if he’d contemplated turning around.
Her head buzzed, and a dull ache now throbbed at the base of her neck, the lingering remnants of too much wine.
She’d been stupid, like playing with fire during the drought.
Laying between the rough, flannel sheets, Tethys decided the best thing she could do was retreat, just as Araes had.
Leave behind the residual feel of his lips against hers and extinguish the heat from her skin.
The world hadn’t been kind before, why the hell did she think it’d be any different now?
A week passed since Tethys and Araes returned to Venia, and, seemingly, the realm hadn’t noticed their patron goddess’s absence.
General Otto briefed the council on another rebellion attack along the Venian border, this time with a longer list of casualties.
Lord Kalos offered words of counsel laced in poisonous, undermining subtleties, and Messene reassured her the copyists maintained their search for Eos’s missing volume as vigilantly as ever.
Araes remained the ever-silent statue over her shoulder.
“Today we’ll be discussing the primordials and the Theogony in more detail than previously.
It’s important for you to fully comprehend the creation of this world, as the duty to defend it falls on your shoulders,” Euda said, slamming the thickest leather bound text Tethys had ever seen on the desk in front of her.
Her glasses shifted down her nose, and the ancient woman swiftly pushed them back in place before blowing away the blanket of dust that’d settled on its cover.
All this talk of duty was getting so fucking tiresome.
“Oh joy,” Tethys sighed, leaning back in her seat. The back of her scalp burned with the exigent presence of the lieutenant behind her. She felt so childish sitting here, using every essence of self-control she had not to turn and face him.
“Now, the primordials created the realm together. We know this, but what hasn’t yet been discussed is how they created our world.
Even the mortal scribes aren’t trusted with this information, so…
before I begin, Lieutenant Araes, I know you’ve been vetted to attend council meetings, but I must ask that you close your ears and retain nothing spoken during this lecture,” she said.
Tethys willed her head to keep from turning in his direction.
Under no circumstance would she find herself prisoner to those blazing eyes again.
“Understood,” he replied. His voice was a stranger’s voice. No trace of the man she’d unraveled for remained. She supposed that made it easier to forget his lips against hers or his thumb trailing across her inner thigh.
“Trust me Euda, if I’ve learned anything, this man is as silent as a wraith, and quite forgetful in regards to secrets,” she huffed, digging her nails into the oak tabletop to keep from glancing over her shoulder. The lieutenant’s sword scraped against its sheathe as he shifted his weight.
Euda took in a prolonged, over-exaggerated breath before pacing across the chamber and beginning her lecture.
“Now, we know of the four primordials Eos, Phosphora, Astraeus, and Obscuros. We know they came together to find order in the chaos. To create life in the death. But, to do so was near deadly. Even for immortals. Through the use of conduits formed by channeling their power into divine objects, each was then used to will the continent into existence,”
Yes, yes, the astral relics. Again, this lesson was nothing new. Phosphora would tell Tethys and her siblings the Theogony as a bedtime tale. Tethys could practically recite the lecture word for word.
Euda continued to drawl about the relics, but Tethys had lost track of the words.
Her thoughts had carried her away again.
What would Phosphora say now, seeing her carcass of a daughter?
Tethys wasn’t sure if her mother would pity her or be heartbroken.
Maybe both. The seed of that familiar sadness sprouted in her chest and she shut her eyes, if only briefly, and allowed it to root.
“Two of the astral relics have since been lost with time. The cost of creation had stolen the immortality of two of the primordials, Astraeus and Eos, the lovers of Dawn and Dusk. It is said they turned to stone, eternally entombed in one another’s embrace.
” Euda’s words felt miles away. Her voice was muffled as if underwater.
“The Blade of Astraeus, used to split the sky from the ground, we presume melted into the earth with the death of its wielder. The Orb of Eos, however, seemingly vanished with his death.”
Tethys snapped back into her body, the spiritual whiplash sending a pulse through her.
“Hold on…Euda, did you say the Orb of Eos? Was it not a gemstone?” she asked, her breath hitching.
“Well, yes. It’s sculpted from gemstones, but it’s perfectly spherical in shape. Hence, an orb. Continuing on…” Euda glanced up at Tethys from the ledger in response. She flipped the page of the text and carried on with the lesson.
Araes coughed quietly behind them. He’d recognized it, too.
“Euda. Please humor me for a moment. What does the Orb of Eos look like?” Tethys asked, leaning into her chair. Her palms itched with the burden of realization that hung heavy above her.
“How would I know that? Do I look like an all-powerful primordial to you? No, I simply relay the histories dictated to me by Queen Phosphora.” The ancient woman snapped the text shut and, with creaking knees, hobbled over to where Tethys now sat straight-backed.
“Well, does it have anything carved on it or what color is it at least?” Tethys asked, keeping her tone disinterested. Euda’s eyes narrowed as she tapped a single, slim finger against the desk.
“Only moments ago, you were slipping off to whatever daydream you go to. Now you’re more than eager to participate in the lesson. What’s going on?” she asked, taking another short step closer.
“Nothing, I was just curious,” Tethys said, inspecting her manicured nails.
“You’re never just curious, Tethys. Tell me this instant.”
Tethys flattened the wrinkles in her brow and clasped her hands together to keep from fidgeting. Her toes tapped beneath the satin of her slippers. Euda wasn’t a fool. She’d been the personal scribe of the primordials for as long as Tethys could remember.
“It’s nothing, Euda. Let’s move on. I’ve grown tired of this conversation,” Tethys said, flipping a tendril of hair over her shoulder.
“Well, to answer the question over nothing, your mother once mentioned there was an inscription on the orb. Something about the ‘life’ or ‘light’ of truth. She wasn’t sure, as she’d only ever seen the orb once after its creation.
” Euda eyed the goddess with lips thinned and creased brows.
The candlelight of a blazing sconce refracted in her spectacles as she leaned over the desk, closing the space between them.
The ancient woman’s very aura shifted in a moment’s breath, and before Tethys could recoil from the warning swirling in her electric green eyes Euda said, “If I were you, Goddess, I’d think carefully before poking your nose somewhere it shouldn’t belong.
” Her words were a near silent arctic blast. Tethys clenched her core, stifling the chill now shuddering down her spine.
“Like I said, Euda, I was simply curious,” she replied, swallowing the thick knot of dread rising in the back of her throat.
“Well then. If that’s the case, let us continue our lesson,” she said, regulating back to her normal, bitter demeanor.
Tethys thoughts pounded against the walls of her mind while the remainder of Euda’s lesson continued on in the background.
If the object Lord Ophis found was in fact the Orb of Eos, then this was far more disastrous than initially thought.
She’d had the sinking feeling that the gemstone was ancient and powerful on a primordial level the moment she’d seen its inscription painted on the archive mural, but now, Euda confirmed what she dreaded most.
This was big.
Primordial big.
The missing children and lowborn weren’t the only lives at stake.
The entire continent was at risk. She realized suddenly that there’d be only one way she’d get the answers she sought.
There were two individuals who’d witnessed the world’s birth.
One of which was entirely untouchable. One of which she was entirely estranged from.
Later, she sat in the thick fog of silence, opposite Araes in the grand dining room. He’d remained silent even after Euda’s lesson and its catalyst for the avalanche now plowing towards them.
He’d remained silent when she’d opened her mouth to speak. To scream at him for his infuriating composure. To lunge for his neck out of sheer, unwavering rage.
How could he be so quiet, so cavalier, when the fate of the realm hung imbalanced on the scales of time?
He’d remained silent when she snapped her lips shut, deciding swiftly that this man. This mortal. Wasn’t worth her energy.
“Arissa,” Tethys announced, ripping a hole in the blanket of tension between them. “We’re throwing a ball. And we’re inviting my family.”