Chapter 28 Seth
Seth
Ileaned on the wall, staring at the empty sarcophagus where my mother was supposed to be buried. Her father had crafted it while she was still a baby, so that she might rest in comfort beside her family.
That had been centuries ago. Even though I would live forever in this land, it was still hard to fathom.
“Gloomy spot you’ve picked.” Percy stepped carefully over the ground, as though worried he’d disturb the dead. But no one was buried in this chamber. “I’d say it’s not like you to brood, but well . . .” He chortled. “It is.”
I sighed. “I’m an idiot.”
“Most people in this place agree with that sentiment, right about now.” He folded his arms, joining me at the base of the enormous coffin. “A bit grim, to have your tomb made before you die.”
“Mm.” I shrugged. “Mother’s people believed in many different gods. Dying was just another step in life.”
“Must be nice to have such confidence in your faith.” Percy stepped back. “I’ve been thinking. Maybe not all is lost.”
I chuckled. ”Yeah?”
He spread his hands. “Hear me out. Your father’s not suddenly going to tear you in half. Nor does he want to crush his beloved wife’s city. Right?”
“Right . . .”
“So maybe Aeacus’ escape doesn’t mean a damn thing. You can still offer Haimyx reconciliation and the Maiden.”
I raised an eyebrow. “My Father is the chthonic god, Perse. He’s frightening. And not particularly forgiving.”
“Leverage being daddy’s little boy, then.”
“Never say that again.”
Snickering, Percy stared at the open coffin and lowered his voice. “Aethra told me about . . . I mean, I’m not a psyche, but . . . I understand why you did what you did.”
“Price of being chthonic, I suppose.” I looked down. “I wanted to tear him limb from limb, and nothing was going to stop me.” Raising my eyes, I pushed off the wall. “We have to be flawless at this ball. No more mistakes.”
“Look at you, being all serious.” Percy tilted his head. “So, should we keep calling you Seth? Or would you prefer Set?”
“They’re close enough to each other.”
“In theory, but not in practice,” Percy insisted, folding his arms. “Who named you?”
“Father.” I looked down. “Set is an old name, from my Mother’s country. It means ‘disaster.’”
“I take it he never meant to have a legitimate male heir.”
“No.”
“Then we’ll call you Seth,” Percy decided. “I think you were glad when that lady misheard your name.”
He was right. Lifting my head, I smiled. “Seth it is, then.”
Percy punched my shoulder. “Go see your girl. Eleos mentioned something about groveling?”
He squeezed my arm and turned to leave.
“Wait,” I called. “How, exactly?”
“How do you grovel? I’ve done it once before.” Percy looked up wistfully. “It involved several bundles of flowers, a ten-page ballad, and singing outside her window at night.”
“I’m not singing.”
“Then there’s nothing I can do for you,” Percy said theatrically. “May the death she grants you be swift.” Spinning on his heel, he marched out the door.
Sighing, I rubbed the bridge of my nose. What was equal and opposite to poisoning? Leaving the gloomy chamber behind, I searched for Aethra.
She sat on a bench in a busy hall, poring over a map spread across her lap. Her head snapped up as I approached, and she reached out, tracing my deep neckline with her finger.
“Percy has great taste,” she said, admiring the silk tunic. “I could get used to you running around in that.” She tutted. “What are you wearing to the ball? Not that, I hope.”
“I thought you liked it?” I said, looking down. This outfit was already too gaudy for me, with its embroidered cloak and golden collar.
“I do. But the king wears his finest to meetings with the enemy.” She returned to her map. “Percy and I will find you something, don’t worry.”
“Listen.” I sat beside her. “I don’t want to let Eris and her ilk know about us. You should keep your distance from me during the ball.”
“What? But—”
“We haven’t won yet. The last thing I want is to announce to the world that you’re my weakness.”
Disappointment flared in her eyes, and she looked away. “Alright . . .”
Cupping her cheek, I turned her back to me. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke.”
“Considering the circumstances, I don’t blame you.”
She didn’t mean her words. Nor did she meet my eye.
Did she regret giving herself to me?
. . . Did I?
Putting distance between us was pointless, and I craved her more than the air I breathed, but . . .
The deeper our bond grew, the more it would hurt to lose her.
“At least Whisper was there.” She peeked under the bench. “And he was here, a moment ago . . .”
“Ah!” I shot to my feet. “Wait there.”
Darting down the hall, I returned to the cramped chamber we’d fashioned into our barracks. A messy pile of bedrolls and bags was scattered around the stone chamber.
Whisper lay on his back on Eleos’ sleeping roll. Flipping over, he ran to my bag and started sniffing vigorously as I sifted through its contents. Shoving the mutt aside, I pulled out a leather-bound book and hurried back to Aethra.
Hearing me coming, she looked up. “Oh! There’s Whisper.” She furrowed her brow at the book. “What’s that?”
“I picked this up yesterday,” I said, dusting off the cover and handing it to her. “Remember when I said you needed a hobby to fill the quiet hours? I finally got you that book I promised.”
Lighting up, Aethra rolled up the map and pushed it aside, eagerly grabbing the book and reading the cover. Whisper kept trying to sniff it, but Aethra didn’t seem to mind.
“It’s a famous love story,” I said, sitting beside her again. “Mother had a copy on her nightstand and would reread it every few years.”
“If Queen Ma’at doesn’t have good taste, who does?” Aethra murmured. “I wish I had time to read it.”
I’d read the book once, years ago. Remembering a scene from its pages, I stood, cleared my throat, and dropped to my knee.
A few passersby stopped and glanced over, wondering why the prince had fallen prostrate, as if to swear his allegiance.
“I already broke the promise you had me swear.” I bowed my head. “I would do anything to earn your forgiveness.”
“What promise?” Aethra looked up, noticing the onlookers. She slapped my arm. “Knock it off.”
“Not until I’ve paid for my transgressions,” I said, desperately trying not to smile. “You made me swear not to leave you—but I was not there when you woke.”
“Alright, alright, I forgive you.”
I shook my head gravely, barely managing to suppress a laugh. “I demand you take this day to rest and allow me to pamper you, in recompense for my crimes.”
Throwing her head back, Aethra released an exasperated exhale. “Fine. There’s a spot on my back I can’t reach. Scratch it for me.”
Taking her hand, I rose, still fighting to keep the smile from my face. “Princess, you need to learn to ask for more.”
“I’m not a princess.”
“You’re mine.” My face finally broke. “And if you’re to marry a prince, you’ll need to learn to expect such treatment. Starting with . . .” Hooking an arm under her knees, I picked her up. “Taking a break.”
Embarrassed, she hid her face in my neck.
“Actually, I changed my mind,” she murmured. “To earn forgiveness, you also have to be there when I wake up tomorrow.”
“I’d give anything,” I whispered, “to have your face be the first thing I see each morning.”
She grinned. These fleeting moments when Aethra felt happy were more precious to me than life itself.
A good king would never put his love above his land, his people. I’d need to find someone else to inherit Mother’s city.
If, by some miracle, I earned a future, I wanted it to be a small house by the lake, with her.