“To Sunrise!” I shouted, arm high as I pointed northwest.
They’d have no idea what’s coming for them.
Chapter Forty-six
Asteria
When I’d foundout Calix was my mate, I never imagined meeting his parents. They’d been long dead, and thus, there was no need to fret about impressing them.
I never expected to run into them in theOtherworld.
Meeting who was essentially my in-laws was wild.Theywere wild, but in the best kind of way.
Calix had told me all about his parents. His lovely, caring mother who lost her life in the birthing bed, bringing Liviana into this world. His father, lost and miserable and half dead already after losing his mate, had chased battle after battle, hoping to be reunited with her and leaving Calix with all the responsibility of the kingdom and house Erebus itself on his shoulders.
Had I thought about it, I would have had mixed feelings about his father for that. But after meeting him, there was no way not to forgive. The difference between how Calix described him post-Jemisha’s death and the man I met after being reunited with her was like two different people.
His mother was adorable and quite funny, and I could see by watching Jemisha and Orion together exactly why he was so lost without her. They were like a set, and one couldn’t exist without the other.
Seeing Calix able to find a measure of peace with their loss was more than enough to justify this trip in my mind. Whatever horrors we’d already faced or may be waiting ahead, it was worth it to see that weight taken off his shoulders.
But thinking of what the loss of his mate did to Orion made fear for the future rise within me. I immediately tried to push it down, but remembered how Calix’s interpreted me doing that just as quickly. I didn’t want to cut him off, but I needed to find a way to bury those fears.
I clutched his hand tightly as we walked into the field of white flowers, his parents getting smaller and smaller as we moved further away.
“How are you doing, my dorchadas?” I asked him quietly, squeezing his hand to let him know I was there for him. I carefully watched my steps, following the small dirt path that wound through the flowers.
He let loose a heavy breath, shaking his head. “I have no?—”
I looked over as he cut off, and found him staring into the field of flowers.
“Calix?” I asked hesitantly.
“Asteria.” A voice called, and my head whipped to the right, finding…
“Mom?” My voice wobbled as I found my mother, myhumanmother, standing in the field. Her curly brown hair swayed in the wind as she opened her arms.
“Come here, my little star,” she said, smiling brightly. My foot moved to step in her direction, but Calix’s hand in mine kept me from moving.
“It’s not real.” He shook his head firmly. “Whoever you’re seeing, it’s not real. Remember what my parents said? Don’t step off the path.”
Understanding hit me through the fog my mother’s presence had brought.
“What are they then?” I asked, Calix hurrying us forward through the field of white flowers.
“Figments. Guardians, maybe.” He pondered. “Lethe flowers in myth were used to help ease pain and erase traumatic memories. They featured in a myth where Arawn offered them to a girl whose life was so painful, she was unable to find peace, even in the afterlife.”
Huh. The more I learned about the Otherworld and the myths of the Fae, the crazier it all seemed. Even more so because it was apparently alltrue.
“Asteria…” I tried to ignore the call of my father’s voice, my fingers tightening until surely even Calix felt the strain.
“Who did you see?” I asked him, trying to distract myself. I looked up to find his jaw locked and teeth grinding as he pointedly kept his eyes on the path.
“Liv, the first time. Then Titan,” he admitted. “But as long as we don’t pay attention and stay on the path, we’ll be fine.”
I nodded, winding my arm around his fully as I clung to him, anchoring myself to reality. It wasn’t hard; he was distracting at the best of times. I had yet to find another person who could command a room as Calix did. He was not just charismatic, but magnetic.
I felt immensely lucky he wasmine.
