Chapter 4 #2
Nyssa chokes on a laugh as she launches off the lounge, throwing herself into her brother’s waiting arms. The two of them could be twins for how similar they appear.
All dark cinnamon curls, russet skin, and hazel eyes sparkling with mirth.
He’s almost five years older than her, not that you can tell by the way he behaves.
“I missed you so much,” Nyssa exclaims, pulling him into an even tighter embrace.
“I guess I missed you a little,” Lark jokes, but the gentle warmth in his gaze as he looks down at her speaks the truth for him. He pins me with those eyes and pouts, reaching out to ruffle my hair. “Didn’t you miss me too, trouble?”
I huff a laugh and bat his hand away. “I’m rather disappointed you didn’t fall overboard on the journey back.”
Uneasiness curls within me as the group continues to talk about the ceremony, their laughter and excitement so at odds with my own feelings.
How can they be so carefree when I feel like I’m standing on a cliff’s edge?
Nervous energy bubbles in my chest, and my fingers tug at the folds of my gown as if the fabric can steady me.
I can’t focus on their words; the air feels heavy, pressing on my lungs, and their chatter sharpens my sense of not belonging. It’s as if they exist in a world beyond my reach—a place where smiles come effortlessly and nerves don’t coil into tangled knots. The feeling swells until I can’t take it.
Standing, I catch Nyssa glancing up, her brows rising in question. I meet her gaze but shake my head. “I’ll be back,” I mouth, the words stuck in my throat.
I don’t wait for her response. The promise of fresh air lures me to the curtains separating us from the main hall.
She nods and turns back to her brother, a smile lighting up her face as she leans toward him.
I draw in a deep breath and release it slowly, stepping through the curtains and out into the crowd. I’ve barely taken three steps toward the entrance when a muscular arm snakes around my waist, holding me in place. “Fucking Notos!” I curse, jolting as I’m pulled back against a firm body.
“Now, darling, is that any way to talk about our beloved god?”
The tension coiling my body eases at the sultry voice and the scent of the ocean filling the surrounding air.
“I’m sure he would feel honored.” I spin until I’m looking up at the man holding me in place.
Hair, such a dark blue it’s almost black in the dim lighting, falls in silken waves past his shoulders, framing a face no doubt carved in the likeness of the gods. Turquoise eyes fringed by lashes that have every woman in the Sorrows envious, and plump lips that smirk down at me.
“I know I’d certainly be honored if you spoke about me in such a way,” he says with a grin. Light lands on his sharp cheekbones from the movement, shimmering across the sapphire scales speckling his sun-kissed skin like freckles.
Kashton is an incorrigible flirt. I’ve never been certain if it’s because of his upbringing or part of his nature. He’s a nymphai, and was born from the union of a water nymph—a nature spirit with an affinity for the rivers and seas—and a tycheroi.
He’s been working at the Muse for as long as I can recall, likely before my birth, and climbed his way from courtesan to Calliope’s right hand.
As part of my Aviary education, he helped train me in the art of seduction, and—once I was older—he tried his hardest to tempt me into his bedroom.
After being denied at every turn, we settled into something akin to friendship.
It’s not that he isn’t beautiful—far from it. Kashton can disarm even the coldest heart; he could easily be any person’s fantasy. But at the time, my attention was elsewhere, caught up in thoughts of piercing, amber-colored eyes and dark, unruly hair.
“Why the long face, darling?” he teases. “Am I not the man you were hoping I’d be?”
I ignore his questions, refusing to acknowledge not just his words but also how uncomfortably close they come to the truth. “Is there a purpose for this ambush, Kash? Or are you here to try to seduce me?”
“The night I have you writhing in pleasure on my bed will be a joyous one indeed. Unfortunately, it may not be tonight. The Lady wants to see you.”
I worry my lip and cast my eyes back toward the curtain hiding my friends, hesitating a moment longer while I consider letting Nyssa know. Just as quickly, I dismiss the thought. “All right, take me to her.”
Kashton throws me a grin that transforms his face from beautiful to breathtaking.
He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the wall of mirrors.
When we reach the largest mirror, he reaches out with his other hand and presses on the part of the painted golden frame where I know a latch is hidden.
With a sharp click, the mirror swings forward a crack, and he pulls it open, bowing at the waist and ushering me through.
I step into the dim room, my gaze passing over the familiar cedar and crushed velvet décor dappled by the lantern light shining through the stained-glass windows along the back wall.
Calliope sits at a heavy wooden desk beyond a pair of chaise longues in the center, quill in hand, scratching at parchment.
A chill creeps down the back of my neck, prompting me to glance over my shoulder. Kashton has replaced the ice pane in its frame, but my gaze lingers on the wall now standing between me and the main hall.
The mirrors on this side have always fascinated me.
Though they appear as a decorative feature in the hall, they act as a one-way looking glass on the inside, providing a clear view for Calliope to keep an eye on her guests.
Between them and the loyal courtesans whispering in her ear, she would have known the moment I set foot within the Muse.
“Take a seat, my sweet anemone. I won’t be a moment,” Calliope says.
The use of the endearment confirms she knows it’s me even without looking up from the parchment in front of her.
She names each of the Aviary girls when they first come to train with her after a flower.
A tradition she keeps to remind us of our grace and delicacy, but also the strength and resilience we possess.
Nostalgia wars with curiosity as I sit on the chaise closest to me, unlacing my sandals and slipping them off before curling my legs up beneath me, watching the merriment through the mirrors while I wait.
A moment passes before Calliope settles on the couch beside me, and I turn to face her.
Her bronze curls form a waterfall around her heart-shaped face, and her tanned skin—still youthful despite the ambiguity of her age—glimmers in the flickering lantern light.
She pulls my hand between hers and looks me over before her eyes settle on my own. “How is my favorite flower?”
I roll my eyes, but a smile creeps across my face nonetheless. “I bet you say the same to every one of us.”
“Only the prettiest ones.”
“I’m flattered,” I deadpan.
“As you should be,” she says matter-of-factly, releasing my hand and leaning back against the cushions. “You’re also avoiding the question.”
“I’m fine.” I frown, wondering why she’s pushing the issue.
“Fine…” Calliope muses, her eyes turning distant. “A duplicitous word. You say it often. But you know that if you ever need me, all you must do is ask.”
“Kash sent me in,” I say, choosing to ignore her meaning.
I’ve spent years training with Calliope, immersing myself in the skills and tricks of her trade.
She is a master at what she does, her movements precise and her knowledge seemingly endless, and I eagerly soak up every bit of wisdom she shares.
Over time, she became more than just a mentor—she filled a void I hadn’t realized was so deep.
Her guidance is steady, her patience unwavering, and her care, though often unspoken, is a constant source of comfort.
She has a way of knowing exactly what I need, whether it’s a sharp correction or a quiet word of encouragement.
Yet such a connection brings its own fragility, and Calliope has an uncanny ability to see straight through my defenses.
As if sensing the direction of my thoughts, her thumb brushes lightly over the gold ring on my finger. Her gaze softens further, turning contemplative. “Have you ever taken it off?”
The question tightens my shoulders, and I immediately fortify the walls in my mind, locking away the memories threatening to surface.
“Not since the day you gave it to me.” My words come out sharp, even to my own ears, but she remains unfazed, studying me for a moment before offering a slight nod.
“I heard Alpha Flight landed this morning,” Calliope says, as though the last moment didn’t occur. “They’ll be taking off again soon.”
My eyes narrow. “Where did you hear that?”
“A little bird told me.” She offers the words with a casual shrug, as though being privy to the secrets of the Aviary is of little consequence to her.
“And why would you tell me?”
“To warn you, dear girl. You’ll be taking off with them, embarking on a journey that will test your limits.
The path ahead won’t be easy—it will be filled with challenges, unexpected turns, and moments that push you to your breaking point.
Despite that, it’s time for you to leave this rusting cage of yours.
To finally spread those glorious wings and find out what you’re capable of. ”
“You can’t be certain of that,” I say, but my heart skips a beat, my breathing growing shallow.
I’ve spent countless hours wondering what the Eagle might have in store for me once my training was complete.
Surely, he has something specific in mind, considering how he wielded my identity like a blade pressed to my heart.
Yet the thought of joining Alpha Flight?
That had never crossed my mind. They are the elite among the Aviary, and I am yet to be Named.
Calliope watches me, her eyes taking every inch of me in. As though, if she looks close enough, she’ll be able to penetrate past the layers of skin and tissue to where my heart and soul hide beneath. “I have seen it.”
Her words leave me perplexed, their meaning seemingly nonsensical. But as the silence lingers and her piercing gaze stays locked on mine, realization dawns—she isn’t speaking in a literal sense. The unsteady beat of my heart takes off in a flutter of frantic wings. “You’re an oracle?”
There hasn’t been an oracle in the Empyrieos since the God War—not one who has stepped forward, at least. During those days, the warring armies conscripted them and forced them to use their gift in the pursuit of victory.
In the centuries that followed, it was unclear whether the Anemoi stripped the power of foresight from the realm, or if anyone who found themselves in possession of the gift had kept it hidden to avoid a life of military servitude.
As the memories fall into place, I see it clearly—Calliope is blessed with the sight.
Or cursed, depending on how you look at it.
So many things she’s said over the years hinted at events to come, though they always seemed like small, insignificant details.
Never enough to be sure of anything. But now, as she shares a truth she’s kept close to her heart, I feel my doubt shatter like a storm breaking the stillness.
“Not quite.” She laughs, a rich, smoky sound. “At least, not in the way you’re thinking.”
“Why?” I ask, barely more than a whisper. A single word, holding so many questions I struggle to voice. Amid the cacophony of doubts, one rises above the rest: Why has she chosen to entrust me with her secret? And why now?
Calliope stands and glides toward her desk, pouring two cups of wine from the clay decanter waiting there. Silently, she walks back toward me and holds out a cup. I take it between numb fingers, and she retreats again, leaning against the wooden surface as she faces me with a contemplative look.
“Do you remember what you said to me when we first met?”
I shake my head as I bring the cup to my lips. The sweet wine spills over my tongue, but I barely register the taste.
“At just thirteen, with your curly hair and defiant expression, you stormed in, hands on your hips, and declared with unwavering conviction, ‘No one tells me how to behave.’ ”
I choke on my next sip of wine.
“I saw myself in you. In fact, I still do. Headstrong, willful, passionate.” Calliope looks down into her wine cup and lifts her shoulders with an elegant shrug. “I suppose you could say I’ve grown attached over the years.”
Warmth blooms in my chest, and I glance away to hide how it creeps across my cheeks, not sure how to respond to her confession.
“So, the reason I’m telling you this,” she continues, “is because I care. And because I care, I fear. I mostly see fleeting flashes and fragments in my mind. Impressions. However, a feeling always accompanies those impressions, and those are considerably more telling.”
“And what did you feel?” I ask, uncertain I want to know, but also knowing I need to.
“Nothing good, my sweet anemone. Nothing good.”