Chapter 57
Working with the healers, Tethys found her strength. One step became three, and then five, until she could traverse the distance from her bed to the door. Although her muscles ached and the bones beneath her skin felt as fragile as twigs, she was clear in her resolve.
She hadn’t yet told anyone about the truths she’d unveiled in her conversations with Eos.
That box wasn’t one she’d likely open for a while, but the plans put in motion were restless to be shared.
She’d allowed her body time to regain its strength; however, her mind pieced together a plan that would take more than a little persuading when pitched to her brother.
On her last day before Altair’s threat came to fruition, she sat with him in the dim evening light.
The sun steadily descended below the horizon, flashing green at the split second it met the earth, and the world crept into shadow.
Araes had excused himself to bathe and catch up on his regular correspondence with Ophis, giving Tethys the only opportunity she had to speak with her brother alone.
While she knew Araes wanted to rescue those children, she also knew he’d never agree to the risks she’d take in doing so.
“I know how we stop Vorthal, Altair. Without Obscuros’s aid,” she said, returning her golden spoon to the bowl. Her brother raised a brow.
“I’m listening,” he said, placing his wine on the round oak table beside them.
At his request, two servants had moved a small breakfast table into her bedchambers so Tethys wouldn’t have to risk descending the stairs to attend dinner service in the dining room below.
Although she appreciated his accommodations, her bedchambers felt more like a prison cell than a recovery room.
“I know where the gate between realms is,” Tethys said, plucking the prism key from her nightstand drawer.
The click of its metal against polished oak was the only disturbance of sound in the quiet room as she placed it before Altair.
“And I can seal it with this.” Altair crossed his arms and leaned against the back of his chair.
“Before I open the gates, you’ll create a ward around the door to prevent anything coming through. Once I find the children in the Rift, we reseal the gate and in doing so, strengthen the wards.” Tethys bit her lip, watching her brother for even the slightest twitch.
“Now I know you’ve lost your mind,” he said finally, straightening against the chair.
“You’re telling me you want to open the only bridge between us and a primordial set on destroying our world?
My wards aren’t strong enough to hold whatever might come through.
Especially not a primordial. No. Absolutely not. ”
“Maybe not by yourself, but with two immortals it’ll hold. At least for long enough to find the children,” Tethys said.
“What do you mean two immortals? Have you forgotten, Tethys, you’re magic-less?” He shook his head.
“I may be, but Polaris isn’t.”
“What you’re suggesting is ludicrous, Tethys.
Absolutely not. Polaris won’t ever agree to this plan, and you know it,” he replied, the muscle ticking in his jaw.
Altair’s features hardened into the stoic oldest brother he’d always been.
Gone was the warmth she’d felt over the last few weeks, and although she knew it’d been fleeting, the possibility of deepening the connection with her sibling planted roots.
She’d been a fool to think that maybe their time in Aquilae cracked the armored exterior he always hid behind.
Drawing her last card, she took a breath.
“I am not like you, brother. The more I discover of my past, my future, even, the more I realize I never will be. Never once have I felt accepted or loved in this family. Never once have I received your support. I am begging you now, if you care about me even in the slightest, to put your faith in this plan. Put your faith in me.” She placed her hand beside his.
The edge of her pinky finger brushed against his, and when he didn’t flinch or move away she knew she’d won.
“Where is this gate?” he asked, his eyes softening slightly.
“It’s in the dungeons under our home,” Tethys replied.
“You can’t be serious.” Altair raised a brow. The beads nestled in his braids clicked together as he rose from his chair. Darkness flooded in from the windows overlooking the ocean as the southern city settled into sleep.
“I’m afraid so,” she said, straightening against the headboard. “Why do you think mother never allowed us to play in the dungeons? Because of the beastly Minotaur that made those tunnels its hunting ground?”
Altair scoffed. “I never believed Mother’s folk tales, did you?”