Chapter 3 Seth
Seth
Home was a fond memory for most people. A place they yearned to return. For me, it was anything but.
The years had poisoned me against the home I’d once loved. Now I felt nothing but hatred when I gazed upon Duath Nun. Hatred, and a desire to simply forget this place and everything that had happened here.
Everything would have been easier had I never met Aethra. Why couldn’t Seraphim have recruited someone else? Even if that other girl had been beautiful, she wouldn’t have had Aethra’s charm, or wit, or . . .
Or deep dimples when she smiled, and a laugh that made the world brighter.
Rubbing my eyes, I tried to scrub her memory from my mind.
Guilt clawed at my heart. I’d protected her.
I had.
Phaedrus was a kindly caretaker compared to the depravities my father would inflict upon Aethra.
“You okay?” Percy asked.
Dropping my hands, I flashed him a smile. “I’m just remembering how pathetic you looked when we were arrested. Are you sure you want to come with me?”
Percy rolled his eyes. “You got arrested, too. Burgundy Rose.”
“I got captured on purpose,” I corrected, leaning against a pillar. Few soldiers patrolled these streets, but dozens would guard the Oracle’s tower.
“Are you sure this is worth the risk?” Percy shifted from foot to foot.
“A noble of her status will have valuable information. Or, her escort will.” I spoke a half-truth to conceal my lie. “Would you rather forge ahead in the dark?”
“We have Seraphim—”
“Who hasn’t been here in years,” I interjected.
Clicking my tongue, I ordered Whisper to scout ahead, and he ran down the street, nose to the ground.
“Looks clear,” Percy whispered, pulling up his hood. “But I don’t see why we couldn’t tell the others.”
“Call it a habit. I’m used to doing this sort of thing alone.”
“Right. I think you know Seraphim would have said no,” Percy murmured.
“Probably,” I agreed. Darting out from behind cover, I stuck to the shadows, locking eyes on our destination.
A tower of pure white stone loomed over the city. Counting the stories between ground level and the Oracle’s suite, I reconsidered my plan. It wouldn’t be an easy climb, least of all while trying to keep hidden.
Aethra’s image appeared in my mind: her honey-brown eyes and tangled curls. The sad countenance she wore whenever she thought no one was looking. I’d tried so hard to wipe it away, but could only manage to flip her frown to a faint smile.
Shaking my head, I swatted her memory away, but something she’d once said stayed with me.
Glancing around, I spotted a barren courtyard garden of a library: empty and unguarded. Leaping the waist-high stone fence, I walked to the center of the garden and stared up at the roof, two stories above.
Percy followed, scrambling over the fence with some difficulty. He rubbed his aching knees. “Are we taking a detour?”
“I have an idea,” I muttered, drawing my dagger and swiping it across my palm. Staring at the crimson pooling in my palm, I remembered the sight of eagles in flight.
And the joke Aethra had made. ‘You wouldn’t be able to make little blood wings, would you?’
The blood dripping from my hand soared to my back and unfolded into brilliant scarlet wings.
Percy marveled at the sight. “You’ve never done that before.”
Extending the wings, I eyed the roof. What now? Did I just jump?
I should have asked Seraphim. She’d burst from the Therapnen Temple with wings of flame.
Stepping back, I gave myself space for a running start. I was sorely glad Eleos wasn’t present to see what happened next.
I made it perhaps five feet off the ground before I crashed into the dirt. Whisper ran to my side, licking my face to make sure I still lived. Laughing, Percy leaned over to offer me a hand. “Was that what you meant to do?”
“Not exactly.” Grabbing his hand, I dusted my coat off. “I’m going to have to practice that.”
“Eleos would love to watch.” Percy snickered. “But, an entrance like that wouldn’t have been exactly subtle.”
“It would have been quick. I prefer it that way.”
Percy snorted. “I’ll be sure to tell Aethra that.”
Wincing, I turned away and nodded to my hound. Whisper gave me one final lick before resuming his scouting. I followed him, flipping my hood up as I watched for patrols. Shockingly few men guarded these streets. Odd.
Whisper found a quiet path to the tower with ease. Growing suspicious, I searched for hidden signs of danger but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Several of the guards who’d accompanied the Oracle during her march stood guard around the front doors, but nowhere else.
“Pretty tower,” Percy whispered, “Where did all her guards go?”
“Good question,” I murmured. This had to be a trap.
A flowing channel of clear water surrounded the tower, and blossoming trees grew from flowerbeds. Crouching out of sight of the guards, I peered up at the balconies and windows, searching for a path inside.
Percy knelt beside me, voice hushed. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
The Oracle had never liked being followed by hordes of guards. Maybe she’d simply dismissed them. Touching Percy’s back, I silently ordered him to follow.
Sticking to the shadows cast by the trees and hedges, we circled around the fringes to reach the tower’s back entrance, where one lonely guard dozed at his post. Creeping past him, I fitted a lockpick into the door and jimmied it open, nodding at Whisper to hide nearby.
Finding a thick patch of flowers, the hound slipped into their midst and disappeared. Percy waved a hand in front of the sleeping guard’s eyes before following me inside.
The door shut behind us, sealing us in a quiet, dim hall. Only servants would be down here, but I didn’t hear their voices, nor see shadows moving in the rooms along this corridor.
No one barred our path to the grand hall. Stepping onto the sweeping stairwell, I touched the banister and searched one last time for traps.
Cursing under my breath, I flew up the steps, following the spiral staircase past the second floor. Finally, signs of life appeared in the tower, where a fire crackled in the third floor’s hearth. Spinning on my heel, I ducked back down the stairs.
Percy slammed his back against the banister, rather more dramatically than necessary. He made a few hand signals: strumming a lute, two fingers to mimic walking, and waving his thumb around.
Nodding, I agreed. He took two steps up the stairs before I grabbed his arm, hauling him back.
“Wait,” I whispered. “Duath Nun funeral rites aren’t like back home.”
Percy raised his eyebrows, surprised I understood that dirges were his medium.
“Death isn’t sorrowful, or frightening, so much as it is shameful,” I explained. “Like being run down while fleeing from battle. And—” I hesitated. “And they are certain it won’t find them.”
Eyes darting back and forth, Percy nodded. Resuming his ascent, he stopped just short of the foyer.
Several knights lounged in the room, glittering gold bastards who escorted the Oracle wherever she traveled.
Music spilled across the room, not like a sorrowful requiem but a comedic jaunt from a play. Shame washed over me, the same sensation the men upstairs felt.
One grabbed his face and hurried away. Another fell to his knees, staring at his hands in horror. I saw red rush through a third’s cheeks before he backed into the mantle, catching his cloak alight.
Percy’s spell infected me. I felt like I lay on my deathbed, surrounded by those I’d failed, those I’d allowed to die. Aethra peered into my eyes, accusing. Hating.
A jagged blade dug through my heart, ripping it in half. The moment I’d seen Aethra step into the Empty and survive, I’d vowed to protect her, though I’d voiced my promise to no one.
But I’d failed her. She glared at me, blood streaming from her eyes, blaming me for her death.
A hand grabbed my wrist. The haze cleared.
It was just a spell. Taking a shaky breath, I tried to forget the images Percy’s magic had conjured.
“C’mon.” Percy yanked my arm and ran up the steps.
Dashing through the foyer, we avoided the panicked, flaming guard and flew up the last spiral stair.
Emerging on the fourth floor, my eyes fell upon an ajar door spilling light into the gloom. Hand tightening on the pommel of my dagger, I crept silently to the door and peered in.
The Oracle’s guest suite was lit by countless candles, hanging from the chandelier and set across the wardrobe and table. An enormous bed of silken white sheets nearly hid the woman sitting quietly by the pile of pillows.
Hoping she remembered me as fondly as I remembered her, I pulled back my hood.
‘Trust me,’ I mouthed at Percy before stepping into the room.
The Oracle tilted her head, long white locks shifting across the back of her nightgown. “Prince Set,” she said. “I had a feeling you’d be coming tonight.”
Dragging Percy inside, I kicked the door closed. “That seems a very insignificant thing for the divines to tell you.”
She chuckled, meeting my eyes. Fondness gleamed in her pale, gray irises.
Thank the Maiden.
“Seth,” Percy corrected her. His brow furrowed. “Wait, prince?” He balked.
Tucking her hands behind her back, the Oracle—who I’d always simply called Cerys—rose and waltzed toward me. “Last I checked, his name was Set.” She raised an eyebrow at me.
Oh, boy. When Percy found out my fake name only involved changing a single letter, he would give me hell.
Percy glanced between us. “You’re . . .” He trailed off, brows knitting together. “Friends? Why did you make us hide from her?”
“I imagine,” Cerys said, “to hide the truth from that psyche.”
“Eleos?” Percy glared at me. “Why are we hiding things from him, exactly?”
When I didn’t answer, Cerys shifted her attention back to me. “I thought you were never coming home?”
“I didn’t plan to.” I glanced at the open window, feeling the breeze wafting in. “Someone from the Merchant Isles thinks they know how to destroy the Empty. I want to help.”
“Right to the point, I see,” she said.“You came here because you’re hoping I can help.”