Chapter 43
It was physical agony in the purest of forms being unable to rescue Tethys from the despicable wrath of her husband only a few doors down from the hall.
Earlier in the night, when the autumn king grabbed her wrist and tightened his grip, Araes nearly lost himself to the white hot rage that flooded his vision.
He rooted into the soles of his boots and cringed with every movement carried out from across the ballroom.
Worse even, when Procyon pulled Tethys into his space and stuck his tongue down her throat in the presence of all of their mortal guests, Araes’s heart ripped apart.
His legs screamed for him to move, to pull his goddess away from that fucker.
To take her far from here and keep her safe in a life so vastly removed from the toxic sludge that flooded her world.
But, he reminded himself that these were the workings of the gods.
Procyon could snap him like a twig if he so pleased.
Now, he paced the floor of his small, depressing bedchamber and counted the seconds until the clock struck early morning.
He knew the autumn king would be gone with the sunrise, just as he always was—back to Canissa and their search for the rebellion leaders.
Not a moment past the first beam of light, he’d run to Tethys’s chambers.
Not only to make sure she was unharmed, but to hear about the events of the night, and tell her what he’d learned of his so-called commanding officer.
He’d panicked as he watched the three immortal women slip out the back ballroom exit and into the shadows.
When Obscuros excused himself and trailed their path, Araes fought every urge to follow suit.
Araes had never been one for dancing, but he wished more than anything to hold Tethys in the center of the crowd once more.
Her eyes electrified with the music and the rough exterior she fought so hard to maintain softened slightly.
Hers was resilient beauty amidst an ugly world.
She was the melody itself as her lips parted into a grin that could melt even the thickest of snowpack. His heart jolted at the thought.
Tethys brought color back into his limewashed world.
She was a sprouting fiddlehead in a forest poisoned with blight.
She was a trickle of water on a tongue long since parched.
She was time and space all at once.
Around her, the void Enyo left when they buried him beneath the earth didn’t hurt so much.
These thoughts were beyond hazardous in their current climate, yet they refused to be ignored any longer. Araes slumped into his desk chair and braced his elbows against the smooth surface.
His chestnut hair curtained his eyes as he hung his head between his palms. He squeezed his eyelids shut, and with them the world. This was a disaster. Never in his life did he allow another to weave their ties so tightly around him.
Every thought taking property in his mind was a betrayal to the one core value he clung to so desperately. He made a promise to Enyo with the final tear shed that his duty was to the realm, to the others who experienced the loss that came so frequently from the battlefield.
Now, here he sat, at a fork in the path. Would he burn the fortress of honor he built block by block, and risk peace already on the brink of collapse? Or would he sentence himself to a lifetime of unresolved feelings?
Araes sighed and slumped further on the desk. He could hear his brother’s voice echoing in the room. If you’re already contemplating it, you’ve already lost, Araes. With eyes glazed and unfocused, he slipped into a state of numbness, letting the two sides of his mind fight to the death.
The corner of a worn envelope peaked from beneath a pile of neatly organized battle briefings.
He sucked in a breath and pulled it from the stack.
Before thinking twice, he ripped the edge and retrieved its contents.
In the flickering candlelight, Araes stiffened as he read his sister’s neat, narrow handwriting.
Araes,
I’m not sure if you’ll read this. I know you’ve been receiving our letters and yet they all remain unanswered. While I’d like to use what little space I have on the page to beg you to visit, I know it’s of no use.
I missed you when you brought our spring queen to the cottage. The night prior I’d been working at The Golden Apple. Mother doesn’t know, but we need money. The embargo on trade with the westerners has made the cost of everything far too high, so, I maid the bar to bring in a little extra.
The other night a group of men came in. I didn’t think much of them as we get plenty of shady customers.
But one of them had a long scar across his eye that stood out to me.
They ordered their ales and sat in the back booth.
I heard only pieces of their conversation, but as the night quieted down and the other patrons left, they stayed.
They spoke of Ostara and the ball thereafter. The man with the scar mentioned ‘their plan’ and how everything was moving forward as expected. Araes, they said there was some sort of bomb to be ignited. The Golden Apple draws every shade of deranged, but these men scared me. I fear for you.
Please come home. Please. I cannot lose another brother.
With love,
Penelope
Araes dropped the letter and rose to his feet. Theos’s admission of his lineage made sense now. A miscalculated slip up from an imposter claiming to be his commanding officer. Just as the page hit the desk, the sky outside his windowpane ignited in violent shades of fire.