196. My Poniard-shaped Words Made Their Mark

My Poniard-shaped Words Made Their Mark

His amber eyes, which I once knew

to hold more warmth than the sun,

looked like the withered petals of a sunflower.

Realizing my own folly, my cruelty,

I reached out to touch his hand.

He evaded my touch.

‘Pallas,’ I said softly, ‘please.’

Kratos, who was asleep now on my lap,

frowned as though he sensed the pain

inside my voice, inside his father’s being.

‘I did not keep this from you as manipulation.’

Pallas rubbed his face in exhaustion.

‘You kept it from me because

you were considering taking the offer,’ he said,

his voice edged with a cold fury.

I opened my mouth to protest,

but he was not wrong. Metis had offered me

the one thing I had spent my immortality desiring.

Power.

Recognition.

Goddesshood.

The ability to mould my own destiny.

‘I told her no. Despite it all.

I told her no.’

Pallas stayed rooted to the spot,

just far enough away from me

so that I could not touch him.

‘Your integrity is why I fell in love with you,’

he told me, his voice softening slightly.

‘The way you refused to bow down

to the fate you were given, no matter

how unfair your father and Kronos were.

No matter how cruel your siblings.

I fell in love with you because I thought you knew.’

I paused and stared into his eyes, not fathoming.

‘What did you think I knew?’

Pallas gazed at me, his features betraying surprise.

‘That you were already powerful, Styx.

You do not need to be a Goddess.’

I let out a cold, bitter laugh at this.

‘Pallas. Do you not understand how that sounds?

You are already a God. What do you know

about being relegated to nurse and bride?

What do you know about being only a vessel

to carry Gods into existence, but never

being allowed the status or power of one?’

Pallas looked at me as though seeing

me for the very first time.

Then he said quietly, ‘I will not betray my brother.

Not even for you, Styx. I will not do it.’

He turned and began to walk away.

‘Wait,’ I called to him, my hand on Kratos’s hair,

soothing both him and myself.

‘You should know a truth before you leave.’

He stopped, but refused to turn around.

I opened my mouth and hated

the tremor that was rooted there.

‘We are to have another child.’

This was not how I wanted to tell him.

He had been overjoyed when I had told him

about Kratos and Nike. But this day

felt like there was a chasm between us.

He stood there silently for an age.

Finally, he said to me, ‘Send word

when the infant arrives.’

And with those cold words, he left.

I knew without premonition

that something between us had changed.

And that this chasm would only widen.

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