Chapter 20 Bargaining Chip
Theron of House Chrysaor.
The name settled into the space between us like a declaration, heavy with history and power, and as his gaze remained locked on mine, I knew with absolute certainty that I stood before the sovereign of this land.
A king born of stone and blood and something far older than fear itself.
Now, where exactly these thoughts had come from, I didn’t know.
It was almost as if, just by being in this place, the history was whispered to your soul.
The man who owned it all held my gaze a moment longer before motioning with his hand toward his men, ordering them, “Bring in our other guest.”
My eyes widened, and my head snapped around the second the doors opened.
The atmosphere changed instantly.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the chamber, and then Aster was there, storming forward without hesitation.
His presence cut through the cold stillness of the hall like a blade.
He was unbound, unrestrained, his massive form fully revealed in his minotaur shape.
His horns curving proudly from his skull, muscles coiled tight with barely leashed fury.
The soldiers did not move to stop him. They did not even flinch.
That alone told me everything I needed to know about how little concern Theron had for any threat Aster might pose within his domain.
Aster reached me in seconds, one large hand lifting my face gently but with urgency, forcing my gaze up to his.
“Are you hurt?” he demanded, his voice low and rough with fear, he was making no effort to hide. Yet before I could answer, before I could even draw a breath, Theron’s voice cut smoothly through the moment.
“How touching.”
The words carried easily across the chamber, and Aster stiffened, his jaw tightening as he slowly turned toward the throne.
“Trust me, young bull, I have shown great restraint until now,” Theron continued, settling back against the throne with infuriating ease. “I have had no reason to harm the girl, despite the fact that you were both discovered trespassing in my lands.”
Aster’s teeth ground together audibly.
“But then again,” Theron went on, his gaze sharpening, “This is not the first time, is it, Aster of the house of Voudouris?”
The full name landed like a bombshell. He knew him, and Aster’s shoulders tensed because of it. Despite this, he met Theron’s stare without backing down.
“There are not many who infiltrate my domain and live to tell the tale,” Theron said.
“I find myself uncertain whether I should be impressed by the audacity or amused by the foolishness of you coming here again.” His eyes gleamed as he leaned back, fingers tapping once against the arm of the throne.
“Tell me, young bull,” he added, “do you wish to steal from me once more? Is that why you have dared journey here?”
Aster said nothing, as if he didn't want to show his hand too soon. Theron’s gaze slid briefly to me before returning to Aster.
“And who is this?” he continued. “Your apprentice this time, come to help you succeed where you failed before?”
“We have no intention of stealing from you,” Aster snapped finally, his voice tight with restraint.
Theron raised a brow.
“Of course not,” he said lightly. “After all, you are not accompanied by the young prince, and he did have so many talents… impressive really for such a young age.” A faint, knowing smile curved his mouth.
“Tell me,” he added, “how is your King these days? Word is he has not been seen for quite some time.” The mockery was blatant, delivered with the ease of someone who already knew the answer.
I stayed silent, instinct telling me this was not the moment to speak, not while the tension between them crackled so sharply it felt like it might fracture the ground beneath us. We certainly didn’t want another rift forming.
Aster lifted his chin, meeting Theron’s gaze squarely.
“Our lands may be cut off from each other,” he said evenly, “but we are still neighbors. I would be a fool to believe you did not know what was happening beyond your borders.”
Theron’s grin deepened, defining his handsome features.
“Ah,” he said. “You speak of the darkness.” His eyes gleamed, flashing with interest for no longer than a heartbeat. “Those ravaging your lands.”
“And I see it hasn’t affected yours,” Aster shot back bitterly.
Theron shrugged, the motion careless.
“The darkness feels the supremacy in my land,” he replied with unhidden pride. “It has no power over my realm. Over my kingdom.” His gaze sharpened again. “Unfortunate, that I cannot say the same for yours,” he added calmly, and that was when I hit my limit and stepped forward.
The words spilled from me before I could second-guess myself, heat flaring in my chest as I clenched my fists at my sides.
“People are dying,” I said sharply. “There’s a war tearing through entire lands, and you think it’s amusing to mock the reason for it.
” For the first time, Theron looked genuinely surprised.
As if he never believed for a second I may have a backbone.
His attention moved to me, that intense green gaze narrowing with new interest.
“Ah,” he murmured. “So the mortal speaks at last.”
“Yes,” I said, forcing my spine straight despite the way my heart thundered. “And this mortal has a lot to say.”
Aster glanced at me then, tension etched into every line of his face, before giving a small, reluctant nod. At this point, it felt like there was very little left to lose.
“I am intrigued,” Theron said, leaning forward. “Let us hear it.”
I drew in a steadying breath.
“We are not here to steal from you,” I said firmly. “And we would not be trespassing in your lands if we had any other choice. We are here because we need something.”
Theron’s expression remained unreadable, but something in his eyes changed, a knowing glint that sent a chill through me.
“I thought as much,” he said quietly before he rose from the throne once more, descending the steps with unhurried grace until he stood before us again, his presence pressing in close.
“And just what is it you think you need from me?” The way he emphasized the Word ‘think’ as if he doubted we knew our own minds or the cause that drove us.
Aster shifted beside me as he drew in a breath to speak, tension coiled tight through every line of his body. I could feel it in the air, the instinctive need to protect, to explain, to take control of the moment before it could turn against us.
“We need…”
Theron lifted a hand, the words dying in Aster’s throat as surely as if he had been struck down. Theron’s attention never left me, not for a second, and I felt it like the closing of a vice.
“I do not need to hear it from you,” he said calmly. “No. I want to hear it from the mortal.”
The weight of that focus made my chest tighten, but beneath the fear, there was something else, a growing certainty that this was precisely where he wanted me.
Not Aster, not the history between them, but me.
Everything about the way he watched, the way he waited, told me this was not an interrogation, it was a judgment.
And suddenly I understood that this entire exchange was a test.
“We need your help,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “We need the Weaver’s torch.”
The slow curve of his mouth told me I had not surprised him in the slightest. His expression held the quiet satisfaction of a man whose suspicions had just been confirmed.
“Ah,” he said softly. “I see.” His gaze slid briefly toward Aster, amusement flickering there. “And one you know I possess,” he continued. “No doubt thanks to an impulsive young bull who once believed himself clever enough to infiltrate my kingdom and steal it.”
Aster went rigid beside me, his jaw tightening, but I did not look at him. I couldn’t afford to.
“And now,” Theron added, returning his attention to me. “He stands here thinking that arriving with a pretty face by his side will somehow tip the scales in his favor.”
Heat crept up my neck at the compliment, but I held my ground.
“We have a good reason to be here,” I said, refusing to let embarrassment weaken my resolve.
“Then let us hear it,” he replied, gesturing lazily for me to continue.
I drew in a breath, aware of how exposed I felt, aware too that this exposure was precisely what he wanted.
“Atlas is on his way to the capital with his army. But he’s walking straight into a trap,” I said.
Theron regarded me with open interest, his expression thoughtful.
“What makes you so sure that it is not simply time he stepped in to defend his people?”
“It’s difficult to defend anyone,” I said, my voice sharpening despite myself. “When you’re trapped on the wrong side of a Rift!”
Something in him shifted. He had said it to provoke me, I realized, to see how I would respond, how much I knew, how much I was willing to risk saying aloud.
“I know, because I’ve seen it,” I admitted, but I felt Aster tense next to me. He leaned closer, his voice low and urgent.
“Careful, Alex.”
“No,” I said, without turning toward him. “Once he knows the truth, we have nothing left to hide.” That earned me another slow, knowing smirk from the handsome King.
“You were saying,” Theron prompted with a roll of his hand. As for my own, they clenched at my sides as I swallowed.
“I saw a vision of the truth,” I admitted before continuing. “Atlas believes his brother murdered their parents to take the throne. He believes the darkness was a lure, a way to draw him across the Rift, trapping him while his brother could then claim power.”
Theron’s brow lifted slightly.
“And you are saying this is false?” he said. “That your king has been deceived?”
“There is another,” I replied. “Someone else pulling the strings. That’s why we need the Weaver’s torch. Without it, we will never reach him in time to stop what’s coming.”
I hesitated, then pressed on, because hesitation was the same as failure here.