Chapter 5
Of course, I shouldn’t have been so quick to conclude that everything would be fine.
A ritual so involved as the solstice festival could never be expected to proceed flawlessly, and I knew well enough where the blame could end up landing.
There was always something, wasn’t there?
And so it happened that when we woke in the late morning and shook off our drowsiness, trouble was there to greet us.
A loud knock sounded at our door. The person outside waited only marginally long enough to avoid rudeness before swinging it wide and barging their way inside. Unease washed over me when I saw who was there.
Keeper was a tall man with thinning hair, rough olive skin, and an ugly scowl that carved deep lines into his face.
He maintained a haughty posture beneath worn but expensive robes.
In conversations with his betters, he would often wave his left hand about in emphasis, for the underlying purpose of flashing around a heavy ring which had been gifted to him years ago by some important nobleman.
Keeper did not consider us his betters. So long as he was careful, we were instead his easiest prey...and today he appeared before us with an expression that sent a chill through my bones.
“Good morning, ladies. What a splendid celebration we’ve had. So nearly perfect.” As he spoke, he examined each of us in turn, until his gaze landed on Sophie and stayed there. He strode up to her with firm footsteps, his eyes narrowing. “It was such a shame about the rain,” he chided.
My heart sank when I realized where he was going with this. “Could you not have bothered to warn us on one of the most important days of the year?” he sneered, confirming my fear. “Is this what you contribute to the city with your gift of prophecy?”
Sophie shrank back against the end of her bed. “I saw nothing in advance. I would have spoken of it.”
“No, no, no.” Keeper raised a finger and wagged it at her, the sharp motions punctuating his speech. “You either withheld your visions, or you should be ashamed of your uselessness. What an absolute disgrace.”
With each word he crept closer to her, invading her space. My anger surged. Digging my nails into my palms, I stepped instinctively forward to move myself between them. “You cannot expect her to know every whim of Zeus!” I snapped.
Keeper whirled to face me, nostrils flaring.
“You!” he hissed. “How dare you speak? You are the most useless of all!” He spun on his heels, limbs arcing through the air, and a sudden flash of white split my vision.
In the next instant, I was sprawled inexplicably on the floor.
A searing pain blossomed across my cheekbone.
“Clumsy priestess,” sounded words floating down from above me. “You should be more careful in your revelry.”
“Get out!” Zoe’s shrieking pierced my daze. “Get out now!” I looked up to see her try to push Keeper away, but he sidestepped her easily as he paced toward our chamber’s exit.
“My prayers will be with you,” he said icily on his retreat. Our door clicked shut behind him.
When he didn’t reenter, Sophie darted over to me, grasped my hands, and pulled me to my feet. “I’m so sorry!” she cried.
“Why the fuck would you be sorry?” I fumed, shaking off my disorientation. “He’s the one who did it.” I reached a hand up to judge the tenderness of my face. Ouch. “Ugh, that stupid ring really hurt.”
“I’m so sorry! If I had only seen it—”
“Stop being sorry!” I said sternly. “Just stop it, Soph. It’s not your fault, and you know it. Besides, it was someone else’s turn to get slapped, don’t you think?”
My sad attempt at humor did nothing to lighten the mood.
Sophie just swore under her breath and retreated to her bed, where she would no doubt be bashing herself all day.
That was letting Keeper win, in my opinion.
I wished I could make her stop, but as she drew her curtains closed I knew there was no use in trying.
Our afternoon passed in silence, the only sounds coming from the occasional rustle of the scroll Zoe had busied herself reading.
Alex brought us food so we wouldn’t have to leave the room, and I ate thankfully.
It would be embarrassing to walk out like this, and I was glad to put it off until the last possible moment.
But the moment still came. I did have a date to keep, after all.
So I reluctantly tried to powder over my face, twisting into just the right lighting so that my mirrored reflection looked uninjured.
Once satisfied, I made my way out to the kitchens, where I dodged prying eyes in order to pack a basket full of the festivities’ leftovers.
It was an idea I’d come to during the celebration last night: surely my immortal companion would at least crack a smile at the prospect of partaking in our sacrificial offering.
With the food in hand and my makeup in place, I steeled myself for my journey out to our meeting place. Pretending that nothing had happened this morning bolstered my fragile confidence. All I wanted was to forget about the incident so that I could enjoy my night with Death incarnate.
But I could never be so lucky. On arriving, I hardly had a chance to set the basket and lantern onto the table before he blinked into our little space—and of course my stupid face was the first thing he noticed. Thanatos stalked across the room, frowning as he reached me.
“What happened to you?” he demanded. Without waiting for an answer, he gently tipped my chin to angle my face into the light. His eyes narrowed on examination of my injury, and his expression twisted into cold fury. “Who touched you?”
The warmth of his touch stirred a reaction in me, as it always seemed to do, but this one was a far cry from the comfort and yearning of resting in his embrace.
Now, I felt shame. My weakness painted my skin in shades of sickly bruising beneath ineffective makeup, and the way the light played off his perfect features made me feel even worse in comparison.
I sighed in disappointment and tried to flinch away from him. “Is it really that noticeable?” I muttered.
Thanatos stopped me from turning away with a gentle hand on my shoulder, then cupped my face again.
I reluctantly looked him in the eyes, and I shivered as I watched his countenance turn from ice to fiery rage.
“Who touched you?” he demanded again, and the intensity in his voice caused my fingers to shake.
“Cyrie, tell me who it was this instant! I am going to kill him.”
I had never seen him angry before. Anxiety thrummed in my chest to mirror his rage. “I—I thought you didn’t decide when people die,” I stuttered.
“I can if I slice his head off!” He let me go and snatched his silver scythe right out of thin air, giving it a twirl as he paced furiously across the room.
“It would be well enough deserved. My indifference to the punishment of mortals need not persist one more moment!” He swung the blade through the air as he said it, producing a faint hum.
The muscles in his wings tensed, pulling his feathers into an intimidating mimicry of a furious bird of prey.
I didn’t know what to do, so I stood frozen, struck dumb by a mixture of fear and shame and a surge of irrepressible heat. When he noticed my expression, Thanatos made a frustrated groan and tried to relax his wings. “Fuck, now I’m scaring you.”
“Yeah, a little,” I agreed weakly. “But…on the other hand, you’re rather captivating when you’re all worked up.
” I wasn’t sure where that had come from, but at least it brought a smile to his lips, if only for a moment.
Thanatos sighed heavily and rested his scythe against the wall.
He traipsed back to me and held out his hands, though I could tell he was biting back another spout of outrage.
I gave him my hands to hold without thinking twice.
“Please tell me what happened,” he said, keeping his voice measured.
So I did, reluctantly. Procession, party, storm, Keeper, ouch. “And I really don’t want to talk about it,” I finished. “I just want to move on and pretend nothing happened.” There was a short silence, and then…
“So I can kill him, right?” he offered bluntly.
“Fuck! No, Thanatos, please don’t kill him.”
“Why not?”
I peeled away from him to sit down in a huff. “It won’t make any difference,” I complained, putting my face into my hands. “And it would probably just bring even more trouble.”
“Why do you defend the man who hit you?” he asked incredulously. “I do not understand.”
“There’s always going to be a man who hits me,” I groaned. “At least I already know how to deal with this one! Ugh, I don’t like to think about it. Why would I want to dwell on being helpless? It’s embarrassing, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
He sat on the bench beside me and caught my eyes, his gaze piercing through me.
“No. No one will touch you. Not ever again. I will not allow it, nor will I allow you to berate yourself over this.” He took my hand again and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“And I do not have to kill the man to keep this promise,” he added.
“In fact, there are many things I could do to him.”
A shiver ran up my spine. My mind was a mess of guilt and rage, belief and disbelief.
I didn’t know what to say, but I squeezed his hand in return.
I was just so tired. I hated being powerless, and I hated to speak of it more, even to someone as well meaning as Death.
Especially to someone as capable as Death.
I sniffed. Gods damn it—why couldn’t I ever keep myself from crying?
“Fuck,” Thanatos swore under his breath. He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me against his chest in an effort to quell my sorrow. The ease of it shocked me despite the welling of my tears. Were these touches something we shared now, just like that?