My head shook before I could stop it, a reflexive denial that sent a scatter of breathless, half-formed protests tumbling from my mouth, too quiet and too incoherent to matter.
The word felt impossibly heavy on my shoulders, like something that belonged to another life entirely. Another version of me that did not exist yet and might never be allowed to. Heat crept into my cheeks, my pulse roaring in my ears as I struggled to envision the future he spoke of, as if it were already decided.
Theron watched my reaction play out with open interest.
The light from the high windows caught along the dark fabric of his tunic as he shifted, picking up subtle threads woven through it. The fabric moved with him like it belonged to his body, the open front revealing the hard planes of his chest beneath, marked and scarred. Every inch of him radiated a confidence that made my skin prickle. His mouth curved slowly, a smirk that held no apology, only amusement at my discomfort.
Before I could regain any sense of composure, Aster’s voice cut sharply through the thickening silence.
“I take it you still have the torch.”
The sound of his hooves shifted against the stone floor as he spoke, a subtle scrape and thud that echoed faintly through the vast chamber. I felt the vibration of it through my boots, through the soles of my feet. For a fleeting, irrational moment, I wondered how much pressure it would take before the stone beneath him cracked. Before his restraint finally slipped.
Theron’s gaze left me with infuriating slowness and settled on Aster instead.
“I do,” he granted simply.
Hope flared in my chest like a treacherous beast.
“So, you’ll help us?” I asked, the words spilling out before I could stop them, my eyes flicking back to him just in time to catch the way his grin deepened.
“I will consider it, yes. But at a price of course,” he replied.
Aster scoffed, the sound loud enough to be rude, and he shifted his weight again as one hoof stamped more firmly than before.
“Of course, everything has a price with you,” he muttered in disdain.
Theron did not rise to the insult. He regarded Aster coolly, as if measuring something unseen, his expression unreadable.
“I hold no allegiance to your king,” he said. “Just as I am certain he owes none to me. Tell me, as his second in command, if I required the aid of Theïkós, would it answer?”
The silence that followed stretched uncomfortably long.
I looked down without meaning to, my gaze catching on the pale marble beneath my boots, tracing the fine, vein-like lines that ran through it like preserved bone. The patterns twisted and branched, each one unique, frozen mid-flow, and I wondered how many truths had been spoken and judged atop this very floor.
I forced my head up, keeping Theron in my sight. He tilted his head slightly at Aster, pressing his point home.
“If this darkness ravaged my lands and left yours untouched,” he continued, “Would your king race here to offer his aid? Or would you all thank the gods it was not your people who suffered?”
Aster’s silence was answer enough.
“It is easy to condemn those who remain fortunate,” Theron added mildly, “When you are the one in need.”
Aster exhaled slowly, a controlled release of breath that did nothing to disguise the tension rolling off him.
“There is something I want,” Theron said flatly, and my mind instantly went to the lightning dagger.
“No… the dagger, you can’t have it! I told you, we need it to defeat…”
Theron’s attention slid back to me, so strong I felt it physically, the weight of his gaze pinning me in place. He commanded me with just a look as my plea faded to silence.
“I have no interest in taking your dagger,” he replied.
“If it is anything from the palace’s treasury, I can assure you the king will grant it if you help us,” Aster said.
“What I want is nothingyoucan give,” he said pointedly at Aster before turning his heavy gaze back to me once more. “Her, however…” The words lingered. “Oh yes,” he continued, the corners of his mouth twisting up. “You and I, my dear, can come to an agreement quite easily.”
A chill crept down my spine and settled deep in my stomach.
