Chapter 12 Seth
Seth
Inever slept well. The moment Aethra’s comforting warmth vanished, my eyes flew open.
Sitting up, I scanned the dark, cramped room, hoping she’d wandered off to the latrine. A few problems caught my eye.
The furry mound at the foot of the bed had gone missing, and Aethra’s boots no longer rested by the nightstand.
Swearing under my breath, I flew out of bed and grabbed my cloak, tying it around my shoulder. Strutting about half-naked, I’d look about as subtle as a whore in a temple, but Aethra had torn the only shirt I had.
Whistling, I summoned Whisper, but no one answered.
Right. The furry mound had gone missing.
Well, at least she’d had the good sense to take the dog.
Throwing open the window, I searched the street. Cold wind blustered in, rustling my hair. Aethra was probably freezing in her sleeveless, tattered dress.
A shadow darted by on the eastern street and disappeared around the bend. A smaller shape clung to the woman’s heels. Whisper.
Vaulting the window, I dropped to the street below, ignoring the protest my knees gave out. Clinging to the edge of the road, I chased after her.
She hadn’t gone far. Crouched behind a wall at the end of the road, Aethra peered around the corner, watching something. Silencing my steps, I managed to sneak up on her. Whisper saw me coming but made no noise.
Wrapping my hand around her mouth, I pulled her back. “What are you doing?” I hissed.
Aethra stared at me with wide eyes, shaking her head and pointing down the road. Moving her behind me, I took her old position and peered around the building’s corner.
Several Hades Knights gathered around a courtyard fountain. Their commander was unmistakable: clad in lavish ebony armor, his crimson cape lined with fur.
Aeacus.
Pressing my head against the wall, I tried to overhear them.
A man sat by the fountain, cowering as Aeacus paced before him. I recognized him, the mound of messy black hair and tanned skin—he’d stood a few paces away from us when the Oracle had been paraded through town.
Which meant he’d seen us. They were interrogating him.
I caught a few words of the conversation. “Strange red eyes . . . with a tainted . . .”
Ducking back around the corner, I held my breath. Aeacus knew we were here—and he’d soon realize who’d attacked him in the forest.
Waving a hand, Aeacus gave an order. One of his men hauled their captive up and dragged him away, while the rest turned in our direction. If they saw us, we would be easily captured. With this injury, I would never be able to best the man who’d trained me.
Though the commander had no idea what my chthonic magic looked like, once we were locked in a prolonged clash, he’d recognize my style instantly.
Glancing around, I found an alcove displaying a statue of Callesis playing his lute and dragged Aethra behind it. She followed my lead, crouching behind the stone. Whisper slunk under our feet, hackles raised.
The ebony Hades Knights marched down the street, their pace agonizingly slow.
Aethra shrank against my chest, rubbing her neck and breathing in quick gasps.
She’d always been calm when we faced danger. Always knew what to say, what to do. To hear her panicking, now . . .
Gods. What had that man done to her? The possibilities terrified me.
Taking her hand, I tried to reassure her with my presence. Aethra’s breathing slowed, and she pressed a hand to her mouth.
The Hades Knights stalked by. I listened to their footsteps raptly until I could hear them no more.
Relaxing, my focus shifted to the woman pressed against me and her warm breath on my throat.
We were supposed to be over with, done. Doomed to die soon, anyway.
Yet here I was, falling deeper in love with her.
“I think they’re gone,” she whispered.
Taking her shoulders, I pushed her back against the opposite wall. “I swear to the gods, Aethra, I’m going to strangle you. Why are you out here?”
Guilt flashed across her face, and she looked down. “Okay, I know it seems stupid, but listen, I . . .” She chewed on her lip. “I saw Ainwir.”
My eye twitched, trying to understand what she was saying. “I thought Ainwir was dead.”
“I did, too.”
“Then you must have been mistaken.”
“I wasn’t,” Aethra insisted. “It was him.”
“Where is he, then?”
“I . . .” She ran a hand through her curls. “I don’t know. Maybe I was just hallucinating.”
“You probably were. Have you slept in the past few days?”
“It doesn’t feel like it.”
My first instinct was to pick her up and carry her back to the inn, but my shoulder burned in protest. I hated feeling helpless—helpless to protect, to fight.
Aethra moved to push me back, pressing a hand to my bare chest. She noticed she touched skin and furrowed her brow. “Where’s your shirt?”
“You cut it in half.”
“Well, you can’t go out like that; everyone will stare. And we,” she said, pushing me gently, “need to be invisible.”
My eyes fell to her tattered skirt—she’d ripped off several sections to tend Eleos’ and my wounds. “You look, uh . . .”
“Oh gods,” she murmured. “I need a bath.” Rubbing her eyes, she breathed deeply. “We need to leave before those knights see us. We can rob a shop. Have one in mind?”
Recalling one I saw the other day, I nodded in agreement. “This way.” Whistling, I ordered Whisper to run ahead in case the Hades Knights remained nearby.
Aethra followed quietly behind me, never more than a step away.
We passed a square decorated with a gaudy statue of my father in all his arrogant glory.
The impressive craftsmanship displayed the array of tattoos painted across his bare chest. A jackal crown rose from his brow, ebony black like his magnificent mantle.
Glancing down at myself, I felt a wave of nausea.
I looked a lot like him, right now.
Turning away, I noticed Aethra staring at the statue before her eyes drifted to me, and her face paled like the dead. Gasping for breath, she grabbed her throat like she couldn’t breathe and fell to her knees.
Dropping beside her, I grabbed her arm. “What’s wrong?”
She didn’t answer. Her glazed eyes stared into the distance, oblivious to my presence, to my voice. Hands shaking violently, she wrapped her arms around her shoulders and squeezed her eyes shut.
This wasn’t fear—she had fallen into a full-blown panic. Forgetting the pain in my shoulder, I swept her into my arms and hurried back to our inn, terror pooling in my heart as to why she’d reacted so violently to an image of the king.
Pushing through the stable door with my good shoulder, I set her down by Athena. “Change of plans. We’ll steal something on the way out.”
I couldn’t tell if she heard me. Shrinking into a ball, she pressed her back to the corner. Throwing what little we had back into the saddlebags, I fitted Athena with her saddle and moved to help Aethra onto her back.
She didn’t want to be touched. Rearing violently from my hands, she slammed her head into the stable wall. The impact dazed her long enough for me to lift her onto Athena’s back and mount behind her.
Pulling the reins, I guided the horse from the stable and ordered her into a fast trot. We’d need to make camp once we were safely out of the city. Both of us needed rest.
Rage grew like hot flames in my heart, dampening my worry. Rage toward Icelus, toward my home.
And my Father, most of all.
* * *
Tying the last thread of my coat, I flipped up the collar and rolled up the sleeves. It wasn’t as nice as the one Cerys’ glittering gold bastards had driven a javelin through, but it would do.
Leaning down, I gathered a bundle of dry wood to carry back to camp. Another fallen branch caught my eye, and I snatched it up, carefully tucking it into my pocket.
I hadn’t seen Aeacus on our ride out of town, nor on our short journey along the northern road. Part of me hoped he did not make for the city of Ma’at—but if he pursued us, we would not evade him for long.
Aethra sat by the dwindling campfire, Whisper lying across her lap. A thick forest surrounded us tonight, but soon we’d cross into the shrub lands.
Dropping the kindling into the fire, I knelt beside her. “Feeling any better?”
She raised her head and nodded. “Sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” Her voice was still quivering. “I should have helped you.”
“It wasn’t much of a heist,” I said, standing. Athena rested on the opposite side of the fire, and I gently nudged her, trying to get into the saddlebags.
The mare stubbornly refused until I pushed with both hands. She stood, neighing.
“Someone’s gotten lazy,” I murmured, grabbing my bag. Pulling out a waterskin and a rag, I dampened the cloth and handed it to Aethra.
Twisting the rag, she tried to wipe the blood from her face, but only managed to drop it. Chuckling, she raised her trembling fingers. “I just can’t get them to stop.”
“Let me, then,” I said, sitting beside her. I wiped a smudge of blood from her cheek. “What happened?” I asked softly.
“Lord Icelus, he’s a muse,” she explained, knitting her fingers into the fabric of her gown. “He shows you nightmares.” She trailed off.
His name finally rang a bell. Icelus tortured traitors to root out rebellions and insurgents. I could imagine what he might have shown Aethra to elicit such a strong reaction from a statue.
But was it my father she feared?
Or me?
My eyes fell to the horrible bruises covering her shoulders.
“He really does look just like you,” Aethra breathed. “But so different, too.”
A small amount of relief dispelled my fury. I would never forgive myself if I’d tortured her—even if that me had been a mere figment of a muse’s spell.
Removing the rag from her face, I picked up one of her wrists and gently scrubbed off the dirt. Her mouth warbled, and she bit her lip, holding back tears.
“It’s okay,” I said. “Holding it in will only make you more miserable.”
A rich statement, coming from me.
Breaking, Aethra buried her head in her shaking hands and sobbed. Pulling her close, I tucked her head under my chin and gently stroked her hair.