Chapter 2 Eleos #2
Finding a seat opposite me, Seth sighed and kicked his boots up on the table.
I stiffened and shot him a withering glare.
“What?” Seth asked.
A crack appeared in Seth’s defenses. Echoes of his thoughts slipped through, and I caught one.
‘Oh, gods.’
His walls reformed, and I lost the rest.
“Boots,” I said. “Off.”
Obeying, Seth slammed his feet back onto the floor. Rubbing my neck, I retrieved the flowers I’d collected thus far from my bag.
Percy leaned on my chair. “What have you stuck your nose in now?”
“Medicine, I hope,” I said, opening my journal. “I’ve already seen five plants I can’t identify. Who knows what secrets Duath Nun is hiding?”
“Medicine for what?” Percy asked warily.
“For you. For your illness. Just because the Merchant Isles cannot cure you, doesn’t mean these people cannot.”
Fidgeting, Percy glanced at Seth for help. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea to hope for that. I doubt—”
“Hope is precisely why we are here,” I retorted. “I will always have hope, Perse. There’s no reason to give up without trying.”
Seth sat forward, lighting up. “Let Eleos try,” he said. “Maybe he’s right.”
“Alright . . .” Percy said reluctantly.
Wood creaked as someone jogged down the steps. Seraphim emerged, looking like a proper warrior goddess. A long crimson toga fluttered around her boots, bound by a leather breastplate. “Any luck?” She asked, tying her waterfall of red locks back.
“No,” I answered. “But, Aethra has to be here somewhere.”
“Hm.” Seraphim’s eyebrows drew together, and her pale blue eyes flicked toward the door. “We’ll leave early tomorrow. Change inns. One of us should take Whisper, see if he picks up her trail outside city bounds.” She paused. “So, we should all get some rest.”
“Mm,” I agreed.
“That goes for you, too.” Seraphim tapped the table, getting my attention. “You’ll be no use to Aethra half-asleep.”
“Of course, Lady Seraphim,” I said with thinly veiled sarcasm.
Seth shot from his chair, and it scraped across the floor. “I guess I’ll head to bed. I’ll sit here and worry, otherwise.”
Seraphim side-eyed him. “I’m surprised you’re still here.”
“Why?”
“I figured you’d want to recklessly run off in a random direction.”
“Aethra’s smart. She’d wait for us, here.” He clicked his tongue, calling Whisper. “And Whisper says she’s here.”
The three of us watched him trot up the stairs in silence. Percy grabbed his bag and took a step away. “He’s far too relaxed. Isn’t he?”
“Yes,” Seraphim said. “Something’s not right with him.”
Looking up, I tried to read her expression. “Are you saying . . .”
Percy interrupted me. “He’s probably being eaten up by guilt. I’m going to talk to him.”
“Good idea.” Seraphim nodded. She watched Percy ascend the stairs before turning back to me. “Have you sensed any reason Seth might hurt Aethra?”
“I haven’t managed to read anything about him.” Snapping my journal closed, I shouldered my bag. “I’m going to check a district we haven’t yet.”
“El . . .” Seraphim frowned.
“I won’t get caught.”
Shaking her head, she tapped the table. “Be careful,” she ordered, walking to the bar.
Unfolding the map she’d given me, I stepped outside. The sun had dipped below the horizon. Only a sliver of orange light remained in the growing night. Locating a residential district to our south, I turned in its direction.
With the coming of evening, the crowds had thinned. Focusing on a mother walking hand in hand with her young daughter, both wearing old, dirt-smudged togas, I opened my mind again to theirs.
Typical childhood emotions came from the girl—excitement to go home and see her father. Worry harried the mother’s mind, the only emotion she felt, aside from her wish that tomorrow wouldn’t come.
The same feelings echoed all around. Beneath fleeting joy or sorrow, this city swam in despair. Dread, humming at the back of my throat, as though it drowned every soul.
An unexpected presence slammed into my mind. Twisting agony bored through my skull like a spear, so sharp and sudden I grabbed the wall for support.
Oh, gods. I’d never felt anything like this before. Waves of pain swept through me, as though I’d been sobbing for hours, but my grief had only intensified with every bout of tears. Weak, drained, tired of the pain. Wishing it would stop.
Pressing a hand to my head, I looked up, seeking the source of the emotion.
There. A man limped past me, grabbing his arm, fingernails drawing blood. Mad light glinted in his eyes as he met my gaze. All-consuming dread washed over me as my mind fractured and broke.
Gods. He was a psyche. He was forcing his emotions onto me.
The crowd scattered, giving him a wide berth. Grabbing their children, they hurried away, clutching their heads.
Finally, the mad psyche looked away, and the pressure in my mind vanished.
Standing, I caught my breath.
What was wrong with this place?
Shadows flitted to my left, and I shrank behind a pillar. Seth emerged from an alleyway, glanced around, and pulled up his hood. Percy joined him, clasping a cloak around his shoulders.
They exchanged a few words and set out into the night.
The inn’s front door wasn’t far—had they fled from their room’s window? Hurrying back to the inn, I reached for the doorknob only for it to fly open.
Seraphim stalked out, eyes whipping to my face with an unspoken question.
Nodding, I wrapped my scarf around my face and followed their shadows deeper into the city.
Neither of us trusted Seth. But perhaps tailing him would yield the answers we sought.