Chapter 8 #3
Brother. I blink at the green-eyed man, or rather, god.
Seeing as I have yet to view the East Wind’s face, I cannot say whether they resemble one another.
I know only a handful of details about my captor.
Black hair and pale skin. A strong jaw. Does Eurus possess the same jeweled eyes as his sibling? Are his teeth as white and straight?
The man—Zephyrus—eases closer. There is a lightness to his limbs, a grace to his movements. “It’s been a long time, no?”
“Not long enough.”
A flash of teeth, there and gone. “Good to see not much has changed over the centuries. You’re still as rude as ever.”
“And you still stick your nose in places where it does not belong,” Eurus grinds out.
His brother purses his mouth in thought, then shrugs. “Fair enough.” He then shifts his attention onto me. It is open, this face. A warm, boyish countenance. “And who is this?”
I’ve barely parted my lips to respond when the East Wind grips my arm in warning. “None of your business,” he snarls.
Zephyrus rolls his eyes. “If that’s how you want this reunion to go, fine. But why are you here, Eurus? You’re a long way from Marles.”
“Calm yourself, brother. I’m not interested in meddling with your pitiful mortal existence.”
Wait. Mortal? So Zephyrus isn’t a god? How is that possible?
The East Wind wavers. I sense his hesitation. Stay, or go? In the end, he says, “We’re here to acquire a plant called nightshade. Apparently, I must get permission from you.”
Zephyrus’ green eyes sharpen. “Nightshade?” His voice has thinned. “For what purpose?”
“That’s none of your business either.”
I shift beneath Eurus’ touch. Though I am uncertain whether he is aware of the gesture, he tucks his thumb against my wrist, alongside the pulse fluttering there.
“You’re fond of that phrase, aren’t you?” Whatever humor had brightened Zephyrus’ features has dimmed. “Will you punish me, punish us all, for the remainder of our lives?”
This is an old wound, built in layers of timeworn skin. Eurus has not forgotten. Neither has Zephyrus. I wonder when they last spoke.
“I told you before that we didn’t know,” his brother goes on. “We had no idea—”
“Enough!” Eurus barks, bristling. “This was a mistake. We’ll find the plant elsewhere.” Brushing his brother aside, he strides for the main thoroughfare, towing me along. The townsfolk that have gathered scatter in fright, clearing the way.
“Wait,” Zephyrus calls.
Stiffness winds the muscles of my captor’s arm into knots, his fingers twitching against my wrist. “What?”
“Have you heard from Notus?”
And the tension spirals higher, locking the joints of Eurus’ shoulders, the lower span of his back. “No. And I don’t care to.”
Lies. Eurus mentioned meeting his brother in Ammara, prior to being captured. I glance between the two men in caution—well, one man, one god. If there is to be bloodshed, I intend to keep my distance.
But for whatever reason, the East Wind stalls our departure. “Why do you ask?”
“The beast has escaped the labyrinth,” Zephyrus says. “Word is that it’s looking for you.”
There is a silence. I’ve a desperate need to yank back the East Wind’s hood so that I might gaze upon his expression, whether impassive or puzzled, irritated or worried.
“I see.” His grip on my arm loosens, but I’m not foolish enough to flee twice. “Notus told you this?”
“He sent me a message,” Zephyrus confirms, arms crossed. “I assumed he sent a message to you as well, and to Boreas.”
Four brothers. Eurus, Zephyrus, Notus, and Boreas. Do they, too, hold power over the winds, or storms?
“I never received a message,” Eurus says.
“Really? It was sent to Marles—”
“I wasn’t there,” he snaps, then takes a breath. “I was returning from my visit to Notus when I was captured. I’ve been imprisoned for the last three months and only recently escaped. Not that you, or anyone, would have stepped in to help me. Isn’t that right?”
Green eyes flick to the East Wind’s massive wings, their thin gray skin and overlapping scales. “We would have helped you,” Zephyrus murmurs, “if we had known. Eurus—”
“I don’t need your pity,” he growls.
His brother appears deeply troubled. To his credit, he does not retreat. “The beast travels with a man named Prince Balior,” he continues, kicking the toe of his boot into the dirt. “Notus claims you know of him?”
I straighten in interest. Prince Balior: the gentleman who arrived at the estate late last week. Lady Clarisse also mentioned a companion he traveled with. Could that be the beast Zephyrus is referring to?
“I know who Prince Balior is,” says the East Wind. “But why should I care about the life of a mortal?”
“According to Notus, he now wields the power of the gods,” Zephyrus states, expression whittled into subtle aggravation. “He seeks to expand his realm. It is possible he will invade Carterhaugh, the Gray, maybe even Marles. He must be stopped.”
“When we were banished from the City of Gods,” says Eurus coolly, “we were granted the right to our own realms, our own lives, our own space. I have no obligation to Notus, to you, or to Boreas. These problems are not mine.”
“But they will become yours, eventually,” Zephyrus counters. A cloud passes over the sun, momentarily shading the deserted alley. “If what Notus says is true, few in the mortal realms will be able to stand against the prince. Boreas, Notus, and I no longer possess our powers.”
“Because you were weak,” Eurus snarls, and if I’m not mistaken, the dim obscuring his hood blackens further. “Because you allowed your foolish hearts to undermine your power. Do not place the responsibility onto me simply because you were too stupid to see otherwise. You chose this.”
At this, the corner of Zephyrus’ mouth slants into his cheek, a gesture of bitter emotion.
“Yes, I fell in love with a mortal woman. I have no regrets. I doubt Boreas and Notus do either. All I wanted was to inform you of what was coming. Can you imagine what would happen if this prince managed to infiltrate the City of Gods? It would be catastrophic.”
“Maybe that is what the council deserves,” Eurus says, “after all the pain they caused in banishing us from our home.”
With that, he scoops me into his arms and springs upward, as though he wishes to escape his brother as much as I wish to escape him. I clutch the back of his neck, my face tucked close to the opening of his hood. Even in brightest day, nothing penetrates the interior.
We fly east, back toward Marles. With the sun having pulled from the earth, the air has warmed, even at this altitude. The East Wind falls into a preoccupied silence. I can all but hear the twisting amalgamation of his thoughts.
After a time, I tentatively ask, “The City of Gods was your h-home?”
To my surprise, he responds with nary a growl or scoff. “It is where my brothers and I were born. The realm where all deities reside.”
“What will happen if Prince Balior reaches your homeland?”
He cups the back of my head as we bank right. “I don’t believe he will. It is all but impossible for a mortal to enter the realm.”
I consider mentioning that Prince Balior visited Lady Clarisse, but I do not want to add kindling to the fire of Eurus’ anger. “How can you be sure? Your b-brother said he wielded the power of the gods. Wouldn’t that make it easier for h-him to access their realm?”
“My brother says a lot of things,” he mutters. “Most of them rubbish.”
It didn’t sound like rubbish. There was true concern in the Bringer of Spring’s voice.
“I noticed Zephyrus doesn’t have w-wings,” I say, deciding a change in subject is for the best. “Is that because he was made mortal?”
“I am the only one of my brothers with wings,” he replies, so low that it is practically inaudible.
“Mortality has nothing to do with it.” Before I’m able to respond, he grits out, “Zephyrus should not expect me to solve the world’s problems just because I alone retain my power and immortality.
Where were my brothers when I needed them?
When I became a subject of numerous sick experiments?
They could not be bothered to see what was in front of their very eyes. ”
The vast tract of forest streaks below as horror rolls through me. Experiments?
With anger rises a torrent of words, more than the East Wind has ever offered me. All those edged emotions, forever locked away, now set free. “Zephyrus made his choice. He did not have to choose mortality. He could have kept his heart. It seems my brothers are equally weak when it comes to love.”
The sentiment reeks of bitterness. “I do not view love as w-weakness,” I say.
But Eurus isn’t listening. He has turned inward, his thoughts his only companions as we drift through clouds.
“I’d heard Boreas fell first,” he mutters to himself.
“A mortal woman from the Gray. Decent with a bow, or so I’ve heard.
The North Wind, my eldest brother, made mortal! ” He releases a sharp laugh.
“Next was Zephyrus. Imagine, the wicked Bringer of Spring falling for a woman of the faith? I could not believe it.” His chin brushes the top of my head.
It feels as though his body curves around mine fully, as though I am shielded within his strength.
“But Notus was the greatest surprise, having rekindled an old love. He seems happy, if not completely vulnerable. Once, he had been the South Wind, god of the eternal summer breeze. Now, he is nothing.”
So Eurus doesn’t care to interact with his siblings, yet he keeps tabs on them. Something in him yearns for connection, whether he realizes it or not.
“I alone remain standing—the last of the Four Winds. It is why I’ve gone to great lengths to conceal my ax, for it is the source of my power. I’ve hidden it in the last place anyone would think to look.”
Curled against his chest, my ear pressed to his heart, I consider these words.
… the source of my power.
… great lengths to conceal my ax…
… last place anyone would think to look.