Chapter Sixteen
Thalia
The supply room in the barracks was full of chattering soldiers, all with a bit more spark in the way they moved following Dimitris’s speech. Who knew the prince could speak such eloquent and inspiring words? And for a cause he recently thought to be foolish and unnecessary, no less.
Had it taken the missive from Alexander to inspire him?
Or had it been his proximity to these very soldiers who had already fought tooth and nail for their freedom once and would not let it be stomped away again?
Or perhaps, even, it was her? Perhaps he wanted to fight for a world where women’s lives weren’t gambled away like gold or cattle.
The forges had run through the night the past week, in attempts to make enough weapons that when they were called to the isles they could supply more than just the Skiathan men and women.
Even with the additional work, they were running low on iron and bronze.
Every unneeded pot and even some of the older, more worn armor was melted down and crafted in the molds to make more of the double-edged xiphe.
Rocks were collected and polished for spears and arrowheads, and the women who were not trained as soldiers spent their time fastening each weapon together.
Now, all of the weapons—all except the soldiers’ personal items—would be transported to the northern shore of the isle where they would be loaded onto the Skiathan fleet, ready to set sail as soon as they were called upon.
She would assist a small group with the transport.
Dimitris was supposed to help as well, but the prince was nowhere to be seen—most likely being questioned or praised by the Skiathan legion after that speech.
No doubt Amalia would be the first to sing his praises, although she usually went for the brutish men like Sebastian rather than someone as princely and proper as Dimitris.
Not that Thalia would be jealous if she did—it wasn’t as if the prince was hers to claim.
This does change things for me.
How many more times could Thalia ponder those words before they made her feel something other than distrust and ungodsly fear.
Because if she let him in—if she truly fell into the abyss that was his love, his soul, his everything—and then he took it away, what would she have left?
She would once again be the fool that let a man control her emotions.
Led her on to leave her face down in the dirt.
And Thalia Aremanties was no fool.
Not anymore.
It was only lust. It had to only be lust. Dimitris was just too caught up in emotion to realize it.
Picking up a linen carrier, Thalia moved to the table where xiphe were stacked as high as she could see.
One in particular, though, caught her eye.
Next to the pile of swords, a singular xiphos sat mounted on a wooden frame.
As she reached toward it, the sword seemed to glow with an iridescent lavender hue, reflecting sunlight at dusk despite the windowless room.
A peaceful melodic hum filled Thalia’s ears before it was cut short by someone speaking.
“Thank you, Thalia, for volunteering your time here.” Cal’s voice carried into the room as Thalia felt him approach behind her.
Spinning around, Thalia almost knocked over the weapon from its holder. “Cal, I didn’t realize you were assigned this post as well. I thought you would be at the docks helping with repairs.”
Storms had raged in Skiatha for the past month, Thalia was told.
Many of their ships required maintenance that would be swifter if the God of Craft was there to assist. Cal leaned in toward the xiphos, picking it up and inspecting the delicate scrawls of the Elliniká Glóssa that lined the bronze blade.
Running his finger over the edge of the blade, Cal drew a small bit of blood, letting it absorb into the metal.
“I do plan to travel to the docks shortly, but I wanted to make sure you received your gift before I made my way out there. Think of it as an early present for Haloa. I don’t want anyone to think this beauty is for them—not that the sword would allow it.
” Outstretching the blade to Thalia, Cal knocked his chin forward, beckoning her to pick up the blade.
Again, that lavender hue glittered around the object. “This…this is for me?” she whispered, eyes widening.
“Does it not call to you?” Cal asked, a smile brightening his features.
“Yes, but I have never seen such a weapon before. I don’t…
I don’t deserve it,” Thalia admitted. Nikolaos’s trident, Hades’ bident, the other mysteries of the gods—they were all imbued with power.
Power that was supposed to be reserved for the gods, not a mere seer, and she knew this weapon held that sort of power.
It was marked by the blood of a Grechi. It was marked by the man she wished desperately was her father.
“I cannot think of someone more deserving, Thalia. I made it specifically for you—to protect you and your sister when I am not able.” Cal’s smile faded just slightly and Thalia noticed the worn lines around his eyes had grown deeper.
Forcing the water that welled in her eyes dry, Thalia took the formidable weapon. When she picked the xiphos up, the hilt began to heat beneath her palms and an imaginary tether of sorts seemed to bind itself from her to the sword. “I cannot begin to thank you for this, Cal.”
“There is no thank you necessary, kóri.” Cal placed his hand on Thalia’s shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze. “What shall you name her?”
Without thought, Thalia said, “Alítheia.” Truth.
“Alítheia,” he echoed. “A fine name.” A fond smile extended across his face, but was quickly replaced by a stern look.
“I must be going, otherwise my nephew will complain I left him alone at the docks.” So that’s where Dimitris was all this time.
It shouldn’t have surprised her that a son of the sea god would prefer tasks closer to the water’s edge.
“Promise me that you will keep her close, kóri. These are dangerous times.”
Thalia tucked the blade into her belt before wrapping her arms around the old man’s neck in an embrace. “I promise, Cal. I will not part from the blade.”
When she released him, Cal nodded his head and his gray eyes softened once more before he let out a light sigh and made his way to the supply room’s door.
As soon as Cal left, the supply room blurred and stars speckled Thalia’s vision. Calls from other soldiers echoed in her ears, screaming at her falling body then fading quickly as if she was submerged under water. The world around her went black.
Smoke and ash burned her lungs with every inhale.
The very ground breath Thalia’s feet was scorched to nothing more than blackness.
Screaming came from every corner of the field she was in.
Beasts with black wings and serpents’ tails flocked in the sky, much like the daimon from Aidesian that still haunted her.
Flame spread throughout the field like it was sentient, burning every inch of land and each body that lay atop the grass. Where was she? No distinguishable features of the land appeared, all devastated by the raging fires.
A leather-clad soldier stood in the center of the field, her shoulders trembling, an object gripped tightly in her hand.
Thalia ran toward the woman, reaching out and spinning her around.
Ember stared back at Thalia, eyes glassy and hued the color of milk—far from their usual bright amber tone.
The princess held a broken arrow, its tip stained crimson from the body she pulled it from—a familiar body.
On this day, many would fall. And one would fall they could never replace.
“Do you wish to speak about what you saw?” Mykonos questioned, hopping up onto the chaise where Thalia lay, a towel doused in cold water covering her eyes.
Why did her phsychí always wish to discuss her visions? She had seen it too, seen what was to come. Who it would be.
“There is no sense in discussing what we cannot change,” Thalia replied outloud, swatting the creature away.
Immediately after she had woken up from the vision, Thalia had sprinted to her chambers, sweat clinging to all kinds of places on her body.
A cold bath had done nothing for the pain, nor had Cal’s tonic.
This vision was not caused by the curse she gained in Aidesian.
No—this was true sight, the power she was given at birth.
Tonics could never heal nor dull what was given directly from the gods.
Sight was supposed to be a blessing, though Thalia had never understood why.
Except for the prophecies seers would have when a royal was born, most visions were laced with horrors no one would wish to experience or ever should.
Unless she was the only one fated with that trauma.
“You may not be able to change the course the Fates have set, but it does not mean you cannot learn from it. Help others so that they don’t fall to the same demise.” Bumping her head against Thalia’s chest, Mykonos hissed before she pawed the cold cloth right from the seer’s eyes.
“I am tired, Mykonos. As I said, I do not wish to speak about it. Why don’t you go chase mice in the garden or go visit with Nyx,” she said outloud, her voice groaning.
Thalia reached for the cloth that had fallen to the floor, placing it on her face once more.
She needed to turn it off—her mind, her sight, the sinking feeling that everything that vision showed was her fault. She needed to rest.
“You are being insufferable,” Mykonos said.
“Well, now you know how I feel every time you speak,” Thalia lashed back, this time inside her head.
“Avoidance will do nothing for your soul, human, but if you wish to wallow in your own misery then I will seek out Nyx. Perhaps her human has seen the other side of the vision and will be more inclined to discuss.” Hopping off the chaise, Mykonos padded over to the door, slipping through the small flap that Leighton had installed so the psychí could come and go as she pleased.
As the pitter-patter of Mykonos’s paws faded from Thalia’s chambers, she could only hope that Dafne had not seen a single thing. This was her burden to bear, not her sister’s.