Chapter 49
At some point during the ride, Gaia’s gentle trot lulled Tethys into a dreamless sleep. While his goddess slept, Araes focused on navigating through the backwoods trails—continuously scanning the surrounding woods for signs of a threat.
His thighs ached from the stiff, saddle-back posture, but he didn’t dare move at risk of waking Tethys. The rise and fall of her breath settled into a peaceful rhythm as they traveled, and after everything she’d withstood, she deserved some rest.
Aching cuts on his heels thrummed in time with his heartbeat, but he cast the pain away with thoughts of the night they shared.
A quiet thought whispered from the depths of his mind, and it terrified him.
He’d let his heart take the lead. The decision changed everything, and now they were here…
on their way to the Aquilaean border. There was no going back.
The scent of Tethys’s hair, honeysuckle and morning light, bristling his nose was all the resolve he needed, though. He brushed his lips on her cheek as the goddess’s sleeping form leaned into him.
Where he expected alarm bells, there was only a quiet stillness—a warm wholeness that hadn’t been there since before Enyo’s death. Araes smiled and watched the evening rays of sunlight flicker across the horizon.
He clicked Gaia’s reins to pick up pace. Only when dusk fell, like a curtain on the humid forest floor, did Tethys stir.
“Eos above, how long was I out for?” she asked, wiping the crust from her eyes.
“A few hours. It’s just past sundown. We should set up camp and get a fire going before it gets too dark,” Araes replied, guiding Gaia to a halt.
The mare huffed as he dropped from the saddle and helped Tethys to her feet.
Araes winced as he reached for their satchel, a sharp sting jolting through his heels.
Those cuts would fester if left untreated.
“Araes…your feet,” Tethys said, reaching for him as he staggered against his balance. The goddess threw his arm over her shoulders and lowered them to the forest floor. He bit his lip as she pulled the boots loose, a copper shade of old blood now staining his woolen socks.
“It’s nothing, really,” he grimaced, cautiously sliding the material from his heels.
Tethys unwrapped the bandages. His feet were mangled and raw, littered with cuts in varying stages of recovery.
The balcony door had done more damage than he initially thought.
Last night was distraction enough from the pain, but now in the cool wooded air, his wounds refused to be ignored any longer.
“This doesn’t look like nothing,” Tethys muttered, examining his heels more thoroughly. “Let me make a salve for this. Just stay here.”
The goddess rose to her feet and wandered deeper into the forest, just at the edge of sight.
She knelt to the forest floor, collecting various berries and herbs.
Araes winced again as he risked another glance at his feet.
Nightfall was just upon them and gods only knew what darkness might bring.
He needed to get a fire started and to set up their mat, but the wounds forced him still.
“Goddess, they’re fine, please. We must set up camp,” he said, attempting to shift on his feet. Pain kept him rooted to the ground, though.
“Not until I tend to those.” Tethys returned with her tunic folded into a pouch across her abdomen and retrieved a copper bowl from Gaia’s travel bag. Araes watched, almost mesmerized, as she dumped the ingredients and crushed them between her fingertips.
“This salve will help to ease some of your pain, and hopefully in a few days’ time these will heal. I can’t promise the scars will fade, though,” she said delicately, swiping the salve on each cut. The mixture cooled the white-hot heat until it was merely a dull ache.
“Where did you learn to make that?” he asked as she wrapped a clean set of bandages around his left heel.
“When Polaris and I were children, Euda caught us in the back gardens of our home making mud cakes and herb potions. Thank the gods she did, though, because Polaris was about to feed me our recipe,” she said, moving to his other heel.
Her hands were gentle, but firm as if she’d trained her entire life with the Venian healers.
“Euda stopped us before I could drink the mixture and informed us, rather forcibly, that the particular combination we’d made—nightshade and winter jasmine—was lethal. Had she not been there that day, I would’ve died.” Tethys tied the last knot in place.
“Polaris felt horrible, of course, but Euda reassured her it was an honest mistake. The power of herbs is unmatched, she told us. For the rest of the week, Euda taught us various uses of common herbs and plants. Her lessons back then were much more enjoyable than those now of etiquette and mortal customs.” She smiled softly and wiped the residual salve on her trousers, her eyes glittering gold in the low light.
Firebugs meandered around them with glimpses of amber light, as the forest settled into slumber.
Araes wasn’t sure if it was the evening breeze or the memory that wisped through Tethys’s curls, but in the fading sunset he realized this thickly-rooted flora brought her peace.
He’d seen glimpses of this version of her as they twirled around the ballroom, but now, the content smile curled on her lips was an astonishing beauty he yearned to look upon forever.
“Thank you,” he whispered, stroking a hand on her cheek. She grinned and pressed into the touch.
As darkness spread through the forest, Araes lit a fire, and the two settled into a quiet evening.
Over smoked trout and cheese, they shared memories of childhood long since gone until exhaustion took hold.
Araes unrolled their sleep sacks and pulled Tethys into his embrace.
Their bodies, like two puzzle pieces, fit perfectly against one another.
“Thank you for staying, Araes,” Tethys whispered. He smiled with sleep heavy in his eyes, as she placed a gentle kiss on his lips that lingered until dawn.