Chapter 21 Aethra
Aethra
Icouldn’t take my eyes off Seth. Percy had worked magic on him, erasing the shadowy assassin and sculpting a prince in his place. Percy had suggested a crimson cloak to match his eyes, but Seth had chosen a royal purple.
His mother’s colors.
The innkeeper hung a lantern on the basement wall as Seth rolled out a map on the table. Percy stood proudly by his side, like an artist showing off his latest work. Eleos, Seraphim, and Phaedrus joined us, the redheaded siblings standing on opposite sides of the table, while Eleos joined my side.
“Wow,” he murmured. “Percy did a good job.”
“I thought you were going to say something sarcastic,” I whispered back.
“I’m perfectly capable of honesty,” Eleos said. “Haven’t I paid you plenty of compliments?”
“Yes, me. Not Seth.”
“Set,” he corrected, wearing a half-smirk.
A canvas appeared on the wall, and Cerys stepped from the painting, disguised by a turban and dirty cloak. A young man walked at her side—the same I’d seen with Ainwir in the market. The one who’d murdered a tax collector.
Standing straight, I quickly examined him. Perhaps seventeen years old, he had an unremarkable face, light brown curls, and matching eyes. The perfect person to slip into a crowd; the kind Ainwir would train.
Forcing myself to look away, I saved my burning question. It could wait.
Cerys beamed, noticing her cousin. “You outdid yourself, Percy.” Drifting to the head of the table, she laid a hand on Percy’s arm as she marveled at his work. The bard turned seven shades of scarlet.
“Yes, yes.” Seth rolled his eyes. “Moving on from my appearance.” He tapped the map, pointing out a fort south of the palace. “Commander Aeacus and the Hades Knights will be staying here. It’s an armory and barracks—the perfect target.”
Seraphim nodded. “Every insurgency must escalate to war. We had just begun mustering forces when they crushed us underfoot.”
“And forces need weapons and armor.” Seth raised his eyes, looking at the innkeeper. “I take it you don’t have nearly enough members yet for that.”
“No one knows our exact number,” she replied. “We’d need a safe place to hide them—and a means to spread the word.”
Cerys looked up. “There are chambers beneath the pyramid and tunnels between old tombs. I intended to show them to you the day Eris arrived.”
“Perfect.” Seth stood. “We’ll assault the armory, cause havoc, and empty their weapons stores. Whoever’s there, be it Aeacus or Icelus, I’ll kill them. And reveal my face, this time.”
I leaned forward, studying the fort’s location. “We’ll need caravans to transport the goods. How are we supposed to do that, exactly?”
“I could help,” Cerys said. “My magic is easiest to conjure when I’m near both the entrance and exit—and have time to sketch what I want. Though I’ve never been inside the armory. Someone familiar will need to get in first, so I can anchor the spell to them. Once inside, they can send me a signal.”
“So.” Phaedrus rubbed his chin. “Who shall be the thieves in the night, and who’ll send the fort into a panic?”
“Aethra and Percy will be our thieves,” Seth said. “Eleos—you stay back. The chthonics will handle the distractions.”
“And how,” Eleos asked, “are Percy and Aethra getting in?”
“Leave that to me,” Cerys said. “I’ve sent word of important divinations to Aeacus before. You can pose as the messengers, though one of you will need to disguise yourself as one of my soldiers.”
“Let me do that,” Eleos insisted.
“No,” Seth said shortly.
Surprised, I glanced between the two men. Despite how they bickered, Seth was trying to protect Eleos while he was injured.
It was a long road yet to forgiveness, but Seth earned some favor for that.
“Think about it.” Eleos pressed his good hand on the table. “If Cerys’ people show up with no message and disappear during the heist, it won’t take long for her to fall under scrutiny. Let me ‘guard’ them and ‘lose’ to the insurgents.”
Running a hand across his chin, Seth’s expression lightened. “You want me to knock you out?”
“I’d prefer you pretend to knock me out.”
“You’re right,” Seth agreed. “Cerys must not be caught. Percy and Aethra—one of you will attempt to deliver a message. Cerys—you’ll need to decide what that is.”
“I already have something in mind.” Cerys nodded.
Seraphim paced. “The rest of us can break in the old-fashioned way when it comes time to cause havoc. How many do we want to kill? We could poison their water source.”
Folding his arms, Seth stepped back. “Many of the royal knights here served under my mother for decades. Many will remember me. I have hope—a slim hope—we won’t need an army to take the city back.”
Eleos looked up. “You think the Ma’at knights would be loyal to you?”
“I’m Ma’at’s heir—not Eris,” Seth said. “Mother was hated and loved for the way she shielded this city from Hades’ laws. If I can promise the same, those who were loyal to her might follow me. Especially if we can make the Hades Knights look like fools.”
“I like it.” Seraphim braced her palms on the table. “I’ll scout out the area, see how many men they have stationed there. Eleos, Aethra—you’ll need disguises and a script.”
“Easy enough,” Eleos said.
Cerys dropped her hand from Percy’s shoulder.
“I should get back.” Pulling her journal out, she ran a hand across its pages and flicked her wrist. A canvas appeared on the wall.
She paused, gesturing to the young man with her.
“Nehri will deliver the news to the other cells. Anything you’d like them to know, Prince Set? ”
At the mention of his old name, Seth hesitated. Meeting the young man’s eyes, he smiled. “Last time they rose up, they nearly succeeded. This time, we will.”
Grinning, the young man bowed before following Cerys.
“Wait,” I said, grabbing his arm. “I saw you in the markets. There was a man with you.”
Nehri tilted his head. “When I knifed the tax collector? What about him?”
My heart flipped. “What was his name?”
The boy breathed out. “We use code names. I doubt it’ll mean anything to you.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“Alright. It was Styx.”
The moment the name left his lips, the boy saw my disappointment.
“If I see him again,” he offered, “I’ll ask about you.”
Releasing his arm, I stepped back. “Thank you.”
Cerys peered at me curiously but said nothing. Bowing his head, Nehri followed her through the portal, and it closed behind them.
Shoving off the table, Seraphim cracked her wrists. “I should head out.” She made for the door.
The innkeeper called to her. “Be careful of your comings and goings. I hope this blunder of yours pays off.” She glanced at Seth, but I saw something spark beneath her disappointment.
Hope.
A smile tugged at Eleos’ lips. He saw it, too.
Phaedrus eyed the innkeeper as she headed upstairs before approaching us. “Still working on that cure?” He asked.
“Yes.” Eleos twirled his quill.
“Any luck?”
He sighed. “These people don’t take ill the way we do. Only those afflicted from birth suffer from the disease. And they know of no cure.”
Phaedrus tilted his head, studying Eleos. “You don’t pick easy goals, do you? Healing the empty, curing the incurable.”
Eleos exhaled. “No, I suppose not.”
“It’s admirable, but . . .” Phaedrus folded his arms. “Foolish. The greater the height, the more pain you’ll suffer from the inevitable fall.”
“Unlike you,” Eleos retorted sharply, “I have not given up.”
Percy walked over, knitting his hands together. “It’s alright, El. I never expected you to find anything. Don’t kick yourself over it.”
“Why?” Eleos fidgeted with his book, pulling the covers apart. “Why is everyone being so defeatist? Or did we all embark on this mission expecting to fail?”
“Of course we expected to fail.” Percy blinked, surprised.
Taken aback, Eleos turned to me. I moved to reassure him, but he wasn’t seeking my spoken word.
He looked inside my head.
My reassurances would have been a lie. From the beginning, I’d thought this a pointless mission that would inevitably fail. Only recently had I begun to hope we might succeed. And even then, it was a faint hope.
Eleos’ face broke when he found the same nihilism within me.
Phaedrus spoke before I could.
“I read each of your thoughts while you stayed in my manor.” He glanced up the stairs. “Even my sister does not truly believe her journey will end as she wishes it to. You, alone, see an ending to take pride in.”
Gnawing on his bottom lip, Eleos roughly shoved the journal back into his satchel and spun on his heel. I reached for him, but he pulled away.
Scowling, I glared at his father.
“I—” Phaedrus flinched. “I intended that to be a compliment. His resolve is impressive.”
“Seas,” Percy cursed. “You con men can swindle a lord out of his pants, but you people can’t really talk, can you?”
Phaedrus looked at me, our emotions flowing freely between one another. Something new stirred in his heart. Protectiveness, longing, a desire to mentor.
For the first time, he looked at Eleos as his son. Not the child he’d lost.
“I’ll go talk to him,” Phaedrus said quietly. He hesitated, briefly touching my arm. “Psythos did bless you, after all.”
I watched him trot up the stairs, wondering what he meant. Looking down, I recalled his story about his and Seraphim’s childhood dog—and the words he’d spoken afterward.
Phaedrus had been shocked that Psythos hadn’t blessed a woman like me.
Was I foolish for thinking we’d broken through to him?
Percy grew a serious expression and whirled on his feet, bowing for Seth as he approached.
“Oh, gods no.” Seth grabbed Percy’s arm and yanked him up. “I’ll throw up.”
Snickering, Percy looked between us, eyes flicking faster with each pass. “Oh. I should, ah, go finish that song I was working on. A requiem for Rhea. Sounds nice, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” I agreed, waiting for him to walk away. Once I heard his footsteps arrive on the next floor, I grabbed Seth’s wrist. “Come here.”
“Where?” He asked, letting me pull him along.