Chapter 31 Eleos
Eleos
The emotions around the ballroom struck me in a cacophony the moment Seth entered the room. Closing my eyes, I fought to make sense of the din.
Three separate opinions circulated through the noble crowd.
Some watched with palpable excitement—the upstart prince had returned, promising the following days would be more interesting than usual. Boredom clung to their background thoughts—immortality had become mundane.
Others watched him with trepidation. They enjoyed the status quo and feared he would disrupt their lives. It was not a deep fear—they no more believed their country could be changed than Seth did.
But a few danced back in terror. Seth was Ma’at’s only child. Haimyx would slaughter them —no, worse—should harm befall the prince on their watch.
Useful. Aeacus had been speaking the truth, after all.
Haimyx had one weak spot: Seth.
“El,” Phaedrus called through our link. “We have an opening. Hurry.”
Taking Aethra’s hand, I led her through the dance floor, clinging to the outskirts to avoid drawing attention. Phaedrus loitered idly near a northern door. Servants constantly came and went, but the guard standing nearby had stepped forward to keep an eye on the prince.
A young woman burst through the door, carrying a tray of wine. Phaedrus grabbed the doorknob as she passed and slipped inside.
I pushed Aethra ahead of me, watching the guard’s back until the door swung closed behind us.
A few servants stopped to stare at the intruders but didn’t dare protest our presence. They must’ve thought us nobles. Phaedrus paused at the end of the cramped hall and peered around the corner before waving us forward.
We emerged in an impressive corridor with high vaulted ceilings.
Dozens of statues lined the walls. Ma’at’s ancestors, perhaps?
Each bore a unique pair of wings and held aloft scales of judgment.
Aethra bumped into my back as we hurried down the hall.
I glanced behind me to see her eyes glued to the statues, marveling at each’s unique features.
She’d done the same when I’d taken her to the chamber of clerics in Therapne—pausing to admire the beauty of the murals despite the danger we faced. Throughout our journey across the Merchant Isles, I’d caught her admiring the wildflowers growing in the fields.
Love was a collection of little things, not sweeping statements. If Aethra asked it of me, I could fill a page with all of hers.
Watching Phaedrus’ cape flowing ahead of me, I wondered what little things my mother had done. The moments that made him love her. He’d probably never tell me.
Phaedrus motioned us to hug the wall, and we ducked behind one of the statues. Two guards descended a staircase ahead—ebony-clad Hades Knights.
I expected them to linger in the area, but they departed down a southern hall, and I heard no sign of their return. Phaedrus waited with furrowed brows before nodding at us to go.
The throne room’s doors lay open at the top of the stairs, inviting us inside. Ma’at’s golden throne rested before an enormous marble set of scales, and a rich purple rug trailed from the entrance to the foot of her dais.
No one was inside.
“This is a trap,” I thought to Phaedrus.
“Assuredly,” he agreed. “Are you suggesting we turn back?”
“No.” Aethra grabbed my arm. “Do you think someone’s lying in wait?”
“Maybe. Aethra and I know how to turn a fight to our advantage.” Phaedrus tilted his head. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Ah,” I thought. “There’s the chthonic side of you.”
Winking, Phaedrus darted around the corner and ascended the stairs. Aethra followed, leaving me no choice but to trust them.
Seth had told me how to find the hidden treasury: a single feather on the throne carried a red tint. That was the lever to unlock the basement hatch.
Save, there were dozens, if not hundreds, of tiny golden feathers decorating the throne.
Aethra giggled as she scoured the throne. “I always wanted to break into a palace.”
“It’s not practical,” Phaedrus murmured. “Never pick a target—”
“Larger than yourself. Yeah, yeah.” Aethra finished his words. Ainwir’s advice, most likely.
Phaedrus glanced at her, a hint of fondness in his eyes. The emotion carried across our psyche bond. When his gaze shifted to me, it was still present.
Had even my adopted Father ever looked at me like that?
“I just robbed temples and libraries the old-fashioned way,” I thought, crouching to search the myriad feathers decorating the throne.
“I still can’t picture you as a thief,” Aethra said.
Phaedrus chuckled. “Ah. Here she is.” He touched one of the feathers, and a faint click sounded.
The smooth tiles behind the scale fractured, revealing a hidden hatch. Glancing over my shoulder, I nervously watched the open doors.
What kind of trap did they intend to spring?
Phaedrus descended first. I heard him reach the bottom, and a moment later, he spoke in our heads. “Everything looks normal down here.”
Aethra shimmied down after him, and I followed.
For all the grandeur of the palace, the treasury was rather simple.
A few chests lay against the far wall, and cabinets filled what space remained.
We couldn’t carry much, so I quickly scanned the containers, focusing on the chest containing family heirlooms and jewels.
Phaedrus joined me, holding up an expensive necklace of diamonds. “There’s a simpler way to rob nobles.”
“Such as?” I asked.
“Dress up as a wealthy suitor, trick them into engagement, and disappear once you have their family rings,” he said, stuffing the necklace into a pocket. “And whatever else they decide to give you.”
“I don’t think Eris wants to court me,” I said. “And we don’t have that kind of time.”
“Hm hm,” Aethra hummed. “I did something like that once. Oh!”
I turned around, looking for what had startled her. She was standing beside one of the cabinets, holding a beautiful lance. Encrusted with onyxes and rubies, wings sprang from the base of the blade. My eyes traced the length of the haft, finding words engraved near the base.
For Set
962 Post Sundering
“Seth never mentioned this,” Aethra said. “Ma’at must have commissioned it for him.” She closed the cabinet door. “I’m taking this.”
“Yes, very subtle,” Phaedrus said. “Let’s carry that back into the ballroom.”
“We’re going to have to flee, anyway. This is a trap, remember?”
Smiling, I grabbed a few more gold pieces and choice jewelry, collectively worth a small fortune. “Let’s not linger,” I suggested.
Grabbing the ladder, I returned to the throne room first, pausing before fully ascending to scan the room.
I didn’t see anyone. “All clear,” I thought to them, finishing the climb.
Piano notes danced faintly at the back of my mind.
Piano.
Panicked, I spun around, searching for Icelus. An organ stood on an elevated platform across the room, but no one played it.
Calming my breathing, I backed toward the throne. Icelus must have already flung me into his nightmare.
Had my fears changed? Last time he’d used his magic on us, I’d seen the echoes of my past sins. Sins I’d since repeated.
Pain erupted in my back, and a force threw me forward onto the floor. I barely managed to catch myself. Twisting around, I saw bloody thorns retreating toward the hatch.
Phaedrus had betrayed us, just as we knew he would.
Shaking my head, I bit my lip.
No. This was just an illusion.
Aethra screamed, a bloodcurdling noise that sent cold waves through my heart. Scrambling to my feet, I lunged for the hatch, but more vines wrapped around my legs and arms, pinning me to the floor.
She screamed again, and I desperately reached for her, but the thorns only dug deeper. Blood trickled onto the tiles, and in its red depths I saw my reflection.
And a truth I’d long denied.
We’d never dispel the Empty if Aethra died.
There was no cure for Percy’s illness.
Even if we reclaimed this city, we could never change Duath Nun.
Everyone believed we labored for naught. That we’d fail. That we’d die trying.
And, gods, I realized I didn’t care. I’d rather fail than lose them.
Than lose her.
The pain of the thorns lifted, and the world spun. Disoriented, I raised my head and felt a spear brush my cheek. A dozen Ma’at guards gathered in a circle around me, spears pointed inward. Aethra was doubled over beside me. Under Icelus’ illusions, I had believed her out of reach.
Gasping, she grabbed my arm, and I felt her thoughts.
Our fears had been nearly identical. She had watched us all die.
But someone was missing. Phaedrus was nowhere to be seen.
In the depths of his mind, I had found only emptiness. What did he fear?
Icelus stood behind the guards, well out of our reach. “And to think, we believed you to have a modicum of sense. You’re as foolish as the false prince you follow.”
Catching my breath, I met his silver eyes. “You’re a lesser noble, aren’t you? Passed over for the crown of the Oracle.”
He grimaced. I’d struck a weak spot.
“Why the fervent devotion to rooting out traitors?” I wondered aloud. “Or do you enjoy braying at the heels of a man who thinks you worthless?”
With my words, Icelus’ defenses shattered. I slipped into his mind.
Icelus resented his lot in life. Though he was richer than ordinary people could imagine, he believed himself slighted. Deserving of more.
He interrogated rebels for a single purpose: to win acclaim and elevate his station. Everyone he harmed—mere collateral to his goal.
Nothing in his thoughts deserved sympathy. He was just like the nobles back home.
Did we labor to save the world for nothing at all? Freeing our lands from the Empty only delivered upon the people war and cruelty.
It would be a victory for the nobles, not the people we hoped to save.
Icelus’ hand ground into the top of his cane. He turned, speaking through gritted teeth. “Take care of them.”
One of the guards grabbed my arm, hauling me to my feet. Two strode past, approaching the basement hatch.
I counted the men surrounding us, trying to come up with a plan. “Are you alright?” I thought.
“F-fine.” Aethra rose, staring at the spear tucked under her chin. “Don’t do anything yet.”
I peeked behind the soldiers, watching Icelus descend the stairs. He didn’t want to stay near us any longer than necessary. Percy and Seth had planted newfound dread into him: the fear of death.
A fear the nobles of Duath Nun had long forgotten about.
The soldiers roughly checked us for weapons before herding us out of the throne room. I glanced down the hall, searching for Icelus. His cloak swept around a corner as he hastily retreated back to the safety of the ballroom.
A spear dug into my back, drawing a speck of blood. Unlike Aethra, these men had no reason to keep me alive. I’d have to be quick if I didn’t want to get skewered. Lunging forward, I grabbed the arm of the man before me. He spun in surprise, and I took his mind.
A spear flew at my back, as expected. My puppet spun around, intercepting the strike. Hearing the clash of steel, the rest of our escort drew their weapons. Eleven remained out of my control. Too many.
I dug deeper into my puppet’s mind. He was chthonic. Memories of a terrible storm that had nearly claimed his sister’s life spun in his head. The source of his magic.
“What’s gotten into you?” One of the guards yelled. Another drove their spear into my puppet’s gauntlet, disarming him.
The blow drew a faint line of blood. I ordered him to cast.
A crimson tornado erupted in the hall, throwing everyone back. My back struck the wall. Aethra lost her balance and slid across the tiles on her side. Blood and wind tore into my eyes, limiting my sight.
My puppet’s spear clattered across the ground and rolled toward us. Aethra grabbed it and staggered toward a knight who was knocked flat on his back. She lifted the weapon and plunged it into his shoulder. Grinning, I turned left in time to see a guard charging me, spear pointed forward.
I backed up, but it was too late. He was upon me.
The spear brushed my chest, but reached no further. Coiling vines wrapped the soldier, pulling him away from me. More shot through the hall, flowering whips lined with thorns. Blood met blood in the chaos of two spells intertwining.
Gritting my teeth, I seized hold of my puppet’s mind one last time, telling him to drop his spell.
Wind rushed across the hall as the tornado faded, collapsing into a pool of blood. Vines covered everything in sight, like morbid flowers growing from a corpse pile. The men who remained standing swiftly fell as a tangle of blood vines wrapped their necks, squeezing the breath from their lungs.
Phaedrus stalked up behind the man who’d been about to skewer me and slammed the haft of a spear into his helm, dropping him. Not just any spear—the royal weapon Aethra had been intent on taking.
Blood poured from his arm—he’d cut himself deeply to cast such powerful magic.
“Where have you been?” I demanded.
“Waiting in ambush,” he panted. “I don’t have nightmares anymore.” He jerked his head. “We need to go.”
Reaching for Aethra, I took her hand and dragged her behind me. If Seth did not know what he was doing . . .
Not all of us would escape here alive.