Eleos’ face broke when he found the same nihilism within me.
Phaedrus spoke before I could.
“I read each of your thoughts while you stayed in my manor.” He glanced up the stairs. “Even my sister does not truly believe her journey will end as she wishes it to. You, alone, see an ending to take pride in.”
Gnawing on his bottom lip, Eleos roughly shoved the journal back into his satchel and spun on his heel. I reached for him, but he pulled away.
Scowling, I glared at his father.
“I—” Phaedrus flinched. “I intended that to be acompliment. His resolve is impressive.”
“Seas,” Percy cursed. “You con men can swindle a lord out of his pants, but you people can’t reallytalk, can you?”
Phaedrus looked at me, our emotions flowing freely between one another. Something new stirred in his heart. Protectiveness, longing, a desire to mentor.
For the first time, he looked at Eleos as hisson. Not the child he’d lost.
“I’ll go talk to him,” Phaedrus said quietly. He hesitated, briefly touching my arm. “Psythos did bless you, after all.”
I watched him trot up the stairs, wondering what he meant. Looking down, I recalled his story about his and Seraphim’s childhood dog—and the words he’d spoken afterward.
Phaedrus had been shocked that Psythos hadn’t blessed a woman like me.
Was I foolish for thinking we’d broken through to him?
Percy grew a serious expression and whirled on his feet, bowing for Seth as he approached.
“Oh, gods no.” Seth grabbed Percy’s arm and yanked him up. “I’ll throw up.”
Snickering, Percy looked between us, eyes flicking faster with each pass. “Oh. I should, ah, go finish that song I was working on. A requiem for Rhea. Sounds nice, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” I agreed, waiting for him to walk away. Once I heard his footsteps arrive on the next floor, I grabbed Seth’s wrist. “Come here.”
“Where?” He asked, letting me pull him along.
The inn was quiet upstairs, emptied for the night. Seth ground to a halt when he saw I made for the door.
“No.” He pulled out of my grip. “Not while I’m dressed like this.”
“Put on a cloak. This can’t wait.” I insisted.
Seth threw up his hands and stalked up the stairs, returning shortly with a heavy black mantle he flipped over his head. “What, exactly, is so important?”
Fastening my satchel, I pushed open the door. “You’ll see.”
“Seraphim’s going to kill you,” he muttered. Whistling, he summoned Whisper before following me outside.
We weren’t going far. A river cut through the city, and asection of its bank was surrounded by trees—a little hidden nook. Weaving through alleys to avoid drawing attention, I found the copse behind a gathering of small houses and slipped through the trees.
Seth chuckled as he followed me. “I used to hide out here.”
“Really?” I asked, brightening.
“Mhm. Cerys and I played here once.” He stared into the rushing water, reflecting on memories from years ago. Kneeling, he picked up a stick and tossed it across the glade for Whisper. “This is Whisper’s first time here. I picked him up in Cynthus, shortly after my exile.”
“How did you survive the crossing?” I wondered, watching Whisper fetch the branch.
“We have a boat for exiles, too,” Seth said. “Not that it gets used often.” He reached down and retrieved the slobbery stick.
