Chapter 32 Seth
Seth
Ireally hated being in the spotlight. Granted, I loved attention, but the right kind. Not the judgmental eyes of Duath Nun’s elite.
Despite their blatant stares, everyone gave me a wide berth. They returned to dancing or reformed their gossiping circles, carefully watching out of the corner of their eyes.
The woman I sought stood at the center of the ballroom, beneath the grand chandelier. But Eris was not alone—by her side was the young woman I’d glimpsed with Father.
What the fuck was his concubine doing here?
I glanced to the right and noticed Eleos and Aethra quietly moving along the ballroom’s outskirts. My eyes lingered far longer than they should have.
She looked like a goddess in that gown, her hair bound in braids and adorned with flowers. I’d give anything to spend the night dancing with her.
Percy nudged me with his spear, and I reluctantly dragged my gaze away. It landed on Eris’ twisted smile.
Smoothing back my hair, I approached her, intending to knock the grin from her face.
“I’m surprised you came.” Eris smiled sweetly. “You never liked balls.”
I ignored her, instead looking at the concubine. She raised her chin and looked down on me through hooded lids. My initial read of her had been wrong—this was no poor girl. She took pride in her status.
“Rather bold of you,” I said. “Bringing Father’s whore to the Queen’s palace.”
The blonde woman’s eye twitched.
“Does he even know your name?” I asked. “There’s been so many of you, they must all blur together.”
“How very like you.” Eris twirled her wrist, examining her fingernails. “To insult Lady Euthymia on your first meeting.”
I didn’t catch when Eris had cut her finger, but I saw the faint smear of blood beneath her nail before a thin, crimson mist drifted across the ballroom. Cold moisture seeped into my skin.
“Let’s be reasonable.” Eris lowered her hand, “Father wants you home, as do I. You’re far too old to be playing the rebel.”
Nothing in her words compelled me. Good. I was still immune to her charms.
“I don’t have time for your games, Eris.” I folded my arms. “Let’s make this simple: Father gave you Ma’at’s throne, sure, but there’s just one problem: Law states that heirs have the right to challenge those without a blood claim.”
She frowned. “Do you think challenging me will solve your problems? The men follow me, not you. They think you’re young and unpredictable. You’d be deposed the moment you claimed the throne.” She extended a hand. “But enough. Shall we talk and dance?”
Ignoring her offered hand, I strode to the dance floor, trying not to scowl at the onlookers. Leaning closer, I whispered, “Your magic still doesn’t work on me.”
“It never has,” she sighed.
“Why, exactly, were you always trying to charm me?” I wondered. “Hoping to get rid of me? Lead me into a nest of assassins?”
“Hardly,” she breathed, “It doesn’t work on Father, either.” Lowering her voice, her eyes flicked across the room and landed on Cerys, who had joined Euthymia. “I was seeking allies. You remember how I was treated.”
“Allies are better formed genuinely, not through mind control.”
“What option did I have?” She set her jaw. “Father’s prophecy promises the world. And in his world, I would be just a pawn. To marry off, or murder. Whichever benefited him.”
“So? He already thinks of you that way.”
“He does, but you don’t,” Eris said rigidly. “You would be a very different king.”
I lifted my chin, surprised. “Are you saying what I think you are?”
She glared at me—to even think such thoughts was treason deserving of the Duat.
Glancing down, I decided her words could be trusted. Eris had every reason to hate Haimyx. She’d spent weeks clinging to my heels, hoping to earn my favor. Now I knew why.
Placing a hand on my arm, she laid her head near my ear. “If the rumors are true, you have something Father wants. Something you won’t give him. What better time to turn against him?”
“Fighting Father is suicide,” I hissed.
“Is it?” Eris leaned back. “We could still be allies, Set. Think on it.”
“You wouldn’t risk so much for so little gain. I’m not stupid enough to fall for your honeyed words.”
Frustration flickered across her face. “What if he’s wrong?” She hissed. “What if he leads us to war and destruction?”
Those words seemed genuine. “Get off Mother’s throne, and we’ll talk.”
“Ha.” She smiled bitterly. “I finally have something, and you want to throw me off it? No, I have the power here, not you.”
Stepping back, I looked her up and down. Did a fragile woman hide beneath her confident exterior?
“Fighting me won’t help,” I said softly. “I’m your best chance at freedom and safety.”
“But would you protect me from Father, when I gave this city to you? When he sought my head in answer?”
I hesitated. Eris took the brief silence as my answer.
“Then, no,” she said. “I won’t yield.”
Sighing, I raised my voice for all to hear. “Fine. As Queen Ma’at’s true heir, I challenge you to the throne. Surrender your crown or meet me in single combat—to the death. Let the divines choose the inheritor.”
The room fell silent. Eris’ mouth twitched. Whether she smiled or held back a scowl, I couldn’t tell.
Bang. A door flew open amidst the hush, drawing our eyes to the north. Lord Icelus limped toward us, leaning heavily on his cane. “They did just as you expected, my lady.”
Eris turned to me. “That Elpis Maid is the crown piece in this chess game. It was not wise to put her in danger.”
I glanced behind me. Percy stood stiff, eyes darting around beneath his helm. Seraphim’s hand slid up her spear, letting her palm caress the blade.
“What are you waiting for?” Icelus demanded, stopping well out of my reach. He pointed across the room, toward Cerys. “Call for their arrest—The Oracle’s, too.”
Cerys looked up sharply. “And what have I done?”
“Your presence at the Duat was no coincidence—nor was the false description you fed Aeacus.”
“I told him only what the divines told me.”
Eris waved a hand, silencing them. “I’ll accept your challenge, Set. On my terms.” Pulling a knife from beneath her dress, she raked it across her palm. Red mist swirled around her before spreading across the room.
One by one, the nobles fell under her spell. Their eyes glistened as they turned toward her, awaiting her command. The guards marched to her side, forming a wide circle around me. Percy and Seraphim raised their weapons, joining the men opposing me.
Great.
“Single combat.” I raised an eyebrow at Eris. “You cannot command the entire room against me and expect anyone to honor it.”
“Who cares about honor?” Eris lifted her hand, and the soldiers raised their spears in harmony. “Nobody here will know the truth. They’ll accept what I tell them.”
My hand fell to my dagger. “Hoping to back me into a corner?”
“You are backed into a corner, Set,” Eris whispered. “Look around.”
The door opened again, and Aethra slipped in. She paused in surprise, noticing the unnatural hush hanging over the ballroom. Sensing something was wrong, she hurried to my side.
One of the nobles—a larger man dressed in bright silver—lunged for her as she passed. He grabbed Aethra’s arm, restraining her.
Snarling, I ripped my dagger across my palm and drew a blade from the wound. It soared across the room, digging into the man’s arm. Trapped under Eris’ spell, the man did not react, but his arm went limp, and Aethra slipped from his grip.
Closing the distance between us, I grabbed Aethra’s hand and pulled her to the safety of my side.
The guards moved, reforming their circle around us.
“There’s our maiden,” Eris said. “A bit . . . freer than I imagined.” She glared at Icelus, who looked to me and paled.
Aethra squeezed my hand and spoke in my mind. “Eleos and Phaedrus are fine. They wanted to stay out of Eris’ range.”
“But sent you into it?” I asked.
“Keep your mind guarded. Euthymia is a psyche.”
My head whipped toward the blonde concubine. Suddenly, it clicked—why she was here.
“Ah,” I breathed. “Father is keeping tabs on you, Eris. You hoped the ballroom would shield our conversation from her prying mind.” I turned toward Euthymia. “What lies has Haimyx fed you to turn you into his loyal little lapdog?”
The concubine’s eyes flicked to Eris before returning to me. “Why do you keep the final Maiden hidden? Do you not understand her purpose?”
I tightened my grip on Aethra’s hand. “I understand it perfectly well.”
“She’s a mortal,” Euthymia insisted. “Merely a vessel for the blood she carries. To shield her is to condemn thousands.”
My belief that psyches needed to be good people had always been misguided. They only needed compassion—a trait that could manifest in many ways.
“Don’t,” I warned, “insult her again.”
Eris interrupted Euthymia’s following words. “Maidens must marry a member of the royal family. There’s no reason Set could not keep her.”
“No,” Euthymia spat. “Set has risked our destruction twice. He would do so again.” She glared at Aethra, and though she said nothing, Aethra’s grip on my hand loosened. “Step away from him.”
Aethra pulled from my grip and fled. I whirled around, reaching for her, but she had already darted behind the ring of guards. A strange light gleamed in her eyes.
The other psyche had wrested control of her.
Gripping my dagger tightly, I turned back around. Standing here, alone, it struck me how much I hated these people. Nobles. They were the same in every city, in every country. Wretches, undeserving of life.
Blood seeped from my palm. My eyes darted between Eris and Euthymia—choosing a target.
Eris’ death would free the room.
Euthymia’s, Aethra.
Eris could yet be an ally to us. But no ally of Father’s deserved to live.
The drop falling from my palm had yet to reach the ground. A blade burst from the blood and flew across the ballroom, tearing through Euthymia’s neck. Her eyes widened in surprise before she staggered backward and collapsed.
Eris gasped in surprise and stumbled away. Her spell broke. The nobles shrieked, many scrambling to escape. I dug my blade deeper into my palm as the knights assembled around me lunged.
“Seth!” Aethra cried.
Suffocating silence interrupted the men’s charge. Air fled my lungs, and time ceased. A tiny black dot appeared against the marble floors.
I managed to take one step away from it before the silence shattered, and the Empty exploded.
The knights instantly disintegrated, turning to mere dust as a wave of destruction swept over them. It spread in a semi-circle around me, consuming my attackers, but leaving Seraphim and Percy free.
All hell broke loose. Screams tore through the room, but only one mattered.
Aethra cried out in agony. Like I’d never heard her scream before.
My vision blurred as I searched for her. There was a knight ahead of me, but Seraphim charged into him, hands lighting with fire as her scythe formed.
Music rang across the room—Percy’s. Whoever he attacked, I didn’t care. I darted around Seraphim and saw her.
Aethra had crumpled to the ground. Every inch of her skin was coated in blood, and more tears were growing on her arms, like thread being pulled loose from a tunic. She flickered, as though fading away.
I fell to her side, futilely trying to staunch the flow of blood. A spear flew past me, dragging across my cheek. Blood streamed down my face.
Aethra had said her magic made her feel like she was coming apart at the seams.
Gods. It was killing her.
“Seth!” Eleos appeared at my side. “Seas,” he cursed, ripping off his cloak to wrap around Aethra’s wounds.
Lifting my head, I looked around. The nobles were fleeing in every direction, pushing past one another in their bid to escape. Eris was stunned in horror, eyes fixated on the dust that had once been men.
We needed to go, now.
Gathering Aethra into my arms, I sprinted for the exit. I had to get her to safety. Nothing else mattered.
I couldn’t lose her.