Chapter 39
Araes waited in the foyer for Tethys and her lady-in-waiting.
He’d made an exception this time when she requested a moment alone with Jaide to discuss the events of this morning and get ready for Ostara in the privacy of her own chambers.
With preparations well underway for the evening’s festivities, the council had requested increased presence of city guards and the Venian military for the night.
Araes secured the scabbard at his side. His dress uniform, black trousers and matching overcoat adorned with gold buttons, was immaculate. Only because he realized that the last time he’d worn it, he stood beside his mother and sister as they watched Enyo being laid to rest.
The collar scratched at his neck, drawing blood from the hairline slice along his jaw from shaving earlier.
Fuck, this was uncomfortable. Not just the heavy fabric, far too thick for the moderate climate, or the stiff shining boots a quarter size too small, but the memories now laying siege to his mind.
He sighed, watching the hands of the grandfather clock overlooking the foyer tick by.
“Lieutenant Araes, I hoped you’d still be here,” a voice, all too familiar, boomed from behind him. Araes jerked forward at a firm hand patting him across the back. Captain Theos steadied him before he lost his footing.
“Captain, my apologies. I wasn’t expecting you’d be home from the front lines for this.” Araes cringed at the squealing leather boots as he straightened himself.
“The 15th relieved us earlier this week, and I lost a bet over a game of cards with a trainee, so here I am while he drowns himself in ale with the other soldiers,” Theos said, the crease of his scarred brow wrinkling with casual conversation.
The captain loosed a whistle as he took in the foyer.
“You know, I always imagined the manor would be grand, but this is incredible.”
“I know, sir. It took me a while to get used to the down mattress after being acclimated to the soldier’s racks,” Araes replied, watching his commanding officer gape like a trout.
“Oh, poor you, Lieutenant. Losing sleep over a bed too soft and sheets too silky?” Theos joked. His casual demeanor was a stark contradiction to the normally commanding tone.
Araes chuckled, but suspicion now crawled up his spine like a spider. Theos wasn’t the type to put his rank aside for anyone, especially a trainee. He thought of the page he’d risked a glance at so many months ago and chose his words carefully.
“I know…I know…our fathers probably roll in their graves watching us sip wine and speak like politicians,” Araes humored, retrieving two glasses of wine from the cabinette. He handed the second to Theos, who snorted and took a long swig.
“My father wasn’t a soldier—hated the military, in fact.” Theos drained his glass. “Unfortunately, I must leave you to your festivities. The watch formation is about to begin on the back lawn. If you’ll excuse me.”
Theos patted him on the back once more. Araes stiffly nodded and stepped aside, tossing the captain an all-too-casual smile.
But the bustling room stilled, and Tethys appeared at the top of the stairs.
Her gown gleamed in the refracted sconce light and with each step the glittering, silky fabric rippled like it’d come alive.
Araes snapped his mouth shut and, with eyes entirely entranced by the goddess, followed her as she descended.
The immortal beauty of the spring queen was known far and wide, but in this light, this dress, everything else faded away. Everything, but her.
When she met his stunned gaze, Theos’s admission, the manor walls, the whole damned continent melted away, leaving only them floating in space and time and aether.
The hint of a nervous smile spreading across her lips was the flame.
And he was the moth.
The way her perfectly manicured nails scraped against the bannister was the drug and he was the addict. Araes reveled in the seconds dripping by as she closed the distance between them.
“Goddess,” he managed to say, dipping into a low bow and outstretching a hand as she reached the bottom step. Dripping with grace, she placed her delicate palm in his and the world ignited.
“Lieutenant,” she replied, the flecks of gold in her eyes highlighted by the matching gown draped along her body. Araes’s mouth dried as he drew his eyes along each perfect curve and soft line of her form.
“You are…” He trailed off, realizing suddenly that there wasn’t a word for what she was. There never would be. She was the most indescribable woman, in more ways than one.
She smirked, the corner of her mouth dimpling into an amused grin. What Araes would do to run his lips against hers. To taste that soft skin once more.
“I believe you are blushing, Lieutenant,” she whispered, tucking her arm between his. They followed the line of manor staff as they exited the manor and took their leave. Araes’s cheeks burned, and he pulled at the uniform collar to relieve the heat now flooding through his veins.
“That is one godsdamned dress, my queen,” he said as he helped her into their chariot.
Fuck… the way her waist fit perfectly between his palms. A sliver of her bare thigh peeked through the gown as she pulled herself into the carriage.
Araes braced himself against the step for a moment, collecting his blazing thoughts before entering a space where only she and he existed.
Pull yourself together.
The footman secured the door behind him as he took his seat opposite hers.
Araes gripped the cushion beneath him, fighting every fiber of his being to stay seated.
She gazed out the window as the rows of townhomes flashed by, and he thanked the gods above for it.
If their eyes were to lock, it was more likely than not that her perfectly pristine dress would find itself on the floor.
“Was that your commanding officer you were speaking with?” Tethys asked, breaking the army of forbidden thoughts now blurring his vision. He cleared the knot that thickened his throat and nodded.
“Yes, my queen. That was Captain Theos of the 15th battalion. My company was relieved just recently,” he said.
“That’s wonderful. Maybe you’ll see an old friend or two tonight,” she replied, still following each passing street. “We must keep our wits about us this evening.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I’m not sure why, but I get the sense that I’m a lamb being brought to slaughter.
The conversation with my mother must happen, but I fear the result may be graver than initially thought.
” Tethys turned to face him, and the expression carved across her face was like a punch to the gut.
In the setting sunlight, the powder beneath her eyes couldn’t conceal the dark circles of a restless night.
Araes grasped her hand and interlaced their fingers. “I may only be a mortal in the game of the gods, but I promise you, Goddess, I will protect you. Even if it costs me this life and the next.”
She wiped a rogue tear from her cheek and nodded. The clop of horse hooves was deafening in the silent dread that now replaced the hazy warmth ebbing between them.
“I will be here, now and until the end of my days,” he said, stroking her cheek. A sob fell from her lips before she could lock it away.
“Thank you,” she whispered, running a thumb across his.
Araes knew, with his whole body, that what happened next was wrong. They faced enemies in every direction and tonight could very well be his last. He’d be damned if he didn’t allow himself one final act of selfishness.
Araes knew the position he risked in doing so, but he kissed her anyway.
? ? ?
Their chariot pressed through a sea of bustling Venians clothed in traditional Ostarian robes sewn from pink, yellow, and green silks.
The bench jerked forward as they came to a halt at the temple’s base.
Tethys took a long drawn inhale and let the fresh evening air cool the heat now scorching her throat.
Although traditions remained the same as it had for hundreds of years, this Ostara somehow felt different.
There was a weight to it. An inexplicable heaviness that now pushed her chest in and made it hard to breathe.
Her hands trembled at the thought of approaching Phosphora.
Most of all, however, was this insidious seed sown in her mind the day she crossed into Venia.
The day she awaited a magic that never manifested.
It took root and sprouted with each new disappointment reflected in her family’s eyes, with every mutter of disapproval.
Now, time slowed to a standstill as the footman opened the carriage door. Was it a celebration that awaited her, or an execution? Would her people embrace her as their goddess, or turn their backs?
This moment would forever in history be a turning point of her reign. A familiar, calloused hand brushed the small of her back. Urging her out of the abyss. Tethys found it funny how someone so deadly, so lethal on the planes of war, could be so starkly gentle when necessary.
“I will be by your side the whole evening, goddess. When you’re ready,” Araes whispered.
She nodded and exited the carriage.
The crowd stilled and all eyes fixed on Tethys as she and the lieutenant climbed the temple steps.
The dais, constructed on the marble landing, harbored a throne adorned in spring blooms and fresh cut lavender awaiting her.
She took a seat, allowing herself to settle into its velvet cushion, and scanned the gathering crowd.
Their expressions were mixed. Some watched with a furious resentment that made her stomach lurch.
Others stayed frozen in wondrous disbelief.
“People of Venia, thank you for joining us tonight to celebrate the six hundredth Ostara. Tonight, we welcome the skies of new and guide the skies of old into slumber. Let us celebrate together, even amidst the troubling times,” Lady Messene announced.
She suddenly felt smaller than a mouse under an ocean of blurred faces directed at her.
Tethys kept her eyes fixed on the horizon and thought of the sea. The wild, roaring seas in the south. If only she could sink under those swells and disappear.
“You are not alone, my queen.” Araes voice, soft enough for only her to hear, was an anchor—a simple reminder that grounded her just as she felt on the brink of floating away. She took a breath and gripped the arm rest to keep from trembling.
The lieutenant, silent and stoic, stood beside her.
His expression was near impenetrable, but he brushed a pinky finger against hers.
To the onlooker’s eye he was merely a soldier at attention, a guardian sworn to his queen.
Tethys felt the connection between them, though.
The world faded, leaving only the feel of his touch in its absence.
“With the equinox upon us, let us pray to the immortal children and primordial keepers before them for a bountiful season. Let them grant us strength through the unknown and love through the hate,” Messene continued.
Tethys sucked in a breath, feeling a ripple of energy now coursing through her body. A wicked sliver of hope suggested that maybe this was it. Maybe her magic was manifesting. But she wiped it clean, knowing the hurt of disappointment far outweighed the comfort of hope.
Messene motioned for Tethys to rise, and with reluctant feet, she did. The skin that’d once been a conduit for Araes’s electrifying touch burned with protest. Tethys stepped across the temple landing and rose her palms to the skies.
“Ad terram. Ad caelum. Ad maria. Ad astra,” Tethys called, reciting the Ostarian verses. Unlike the Canissaen words, these hummed in her chest, rolling easily off the tongue. The crowd cheered, although not too loudly, as she dropped her hands and bowed before them.
With the closing remarks and the recitation of the Ostarian verses, the pyre was lit.
Its light illuminated the entire courtyard, casting elongated shadows of bustling people as they dropped their secrets into its flames.
With each slip of parchment the flames grew larger, as if swallowing the forbidden words they held was better fuel than the paper itself.
One by one, the twinkling stars above appeared and as the last beam of sunset crossed beneath the far horizon, a brief relief sank in.
Ostara was over. There were no protests or outbursts.
It carried on as it had for hundreds of years.
Nothing exceptional had happened. In the past, maybe this would’ve left Tethys with a crippling disappointment, but now, only a peaceful quiet amongst the crackle of the pyre remained.
When the final offering was given, Tethys and Araes made their way to the pyre. From his overcoat pocket, Araes produced two pieces of parchment, both rolled with uniform precision. The crowd had long since dissipated and with them the lords and ladies of council.
“I couldn’t decide which to offer,” he said, the curve of his jawline highlighted in amber fire light.
“Why not both?” Tethys asked, tossing her own offering into the flames. The pyre roared briefly, devouring the forbidden words she’d written hours before.
Araes bit his lip, staring at the two scrolls in his palm. Eos above, those lips were perfect. The feel of them against hers took permanent residence in her thoughts these days. After their night together, Tethys found it near impossible not to stare at those lips, even if only for a moment.
“I think I’ll give this one to Eos,” Araes said, dropping one of the scrolls. The parchment’s contents floated up to the heavens in the form of small popping embers. “This one, I’ll save for another day.”
“If it weren’t forbidden, I’d ask what secret you kept,” Tethys said, keeping her eyes fixed on the pyre. Araes simply raised a brow and offered his arm. Tethys smirked and took it.
“Traditions must be upheld, my queen,” he whispered. The feel of his breath against her ear sent a rush of gooseflesh across her arms.
“The noble lieutenant, stiff and set in his rules.” Tethys closed the distance between them and brushed her lips across his jaw. “When will you learn that chaos is necessary to uphold order?”
Araes straightened against her. “You, my queen, are the chaos in which I make an exception.”