Expecting a smart response, I eyed Eleos. He tilted his head innocently. “What?”
“I expected you to respond to my thoughts.”
“I already told you. It’s not polite.” He said.
Glancing between him and his notebook, curiosity swept over me. Laying my quill on the desk, I flipped the page in his journal and studied the notes. A detailed description of my encounter with the keres and the Empty’s sudden stop painted the page.
Eleos leaned closer to me, reading the forgery I’d drafted up. His hips and shoulders pressed against mine, and the words on the paper blurred.
When was the last time I’d been intimate with anyone? Not sex, but simple touches like hugs or linked hands?
Years. The last had been a man I’d courted before realizing he only wanted me to warm his bed.
Gods, how long had I been this lonely? Eleos’ warmth called to me like a stream after days without water.
Eleos looked up from the desk. “Do you need help sleeping again?”
“No.” I shot from the chair, mind whirling as I considered every errant thought he might have overheard. “Magic is bestowed on those who experience something extraordinary. Percy won’t tell me his story. Neither will Seraphim. I suppose you won’t either.”
“I. . .” Eleos’ face was usually impassive, but distress flickered across his features. “Psyches are those with great empathy. I found myself in the company of an unfortunate soul. I suppose Psythos noticed my distress and. . . ensuing actions.”
“I see,” I said. He moved to speak, but I cut him off. “No, it’s alright. I prefer not to pry into personal matters. What you’ve said gives me enough of an idea.”
“I’ve read you correctly, then.”
“And how’s that?” I laughed awkwardly, tugging on a curl. “Scattered? Hopeless? Clumsy?”
“Kind,” he said. “There’s a hole in your heart you seek to fill, but never with yourself.”
I froze, brow furrowed, unsure what he meant.
“You should get some rest, Ae-” He quickly corrected himself. “Lady Aethra.”
“Great. I guess that name is stuck now, huh?”
“It’s only polite to call people by the name they introduce themselves with.” His sly half-smile returned.
“Hm.” I pursed my lips and walked away.
Eleos must have seen someone suffer unimaginable horrors. He’d failed to save them and had fruitlessly sought revenge. At least, that’s how I interpreted his vague story.
Psythos favored those with great empathy. Small wonder one of her blessed was risking his life to save the strangers he’d never meet.
Ainwir had taught me to save only myself. Once, I’d thought his words were those of a caring mentor who didn’t want to lose his apprentice.
I’d wondered countless times how he’d managed to convince Laverna to loan him such a ridiculous amount. An answer I’dnever learn. Maybe she had killed Ainwir for robbing her blind, and that’s why he’d vanished.
Or perhaps the bastard had gamed the system and was living happily ever after somewhere far away.
Maybe he, too, had fled to Duath Nun, and I’d see him again on its distant shores.
8
Chapter 8
Percy had attempted to explain his magic to me on our journey to Serifos’ dungeons. Maybe the concept was beyond me, or perhaps he was as empty in the head as Eleos claimed.
‘Requiems are dirges for the departed. Everyone reacts to them differently. Some feel sorrow, others anger, and more fear. Within the bounds of those emotions, I can create anything imaginable.’
