“Yes, you do. You can’t defend yourself against these rebel men. If they ever got past the city guards, they’d come straight here. Straight to you sleeping soundly in your bed,” Procyon growled, his voice rippling with the temper just beneath his skin. She’d struck a nerve.
“I may not have magic like you and the others, but I’m not helpless. This man will not be staying in my home. He can sleep in the gardens for all I care,” Tethys seethed.
“Maybe I should give you some privacy, Your Highnesses,” Araes suggested, rising to his feet.
“No, Araes, finish your meal, good man,” Procyon said, gesturing to what remained of the platters before them. “The queen is just throwing one of her tantrums.”
“I am not a child. I refuse to allow this.” Tethys felt her composure break. Red hot anger seared up her throat.
“Do not test me.” Procyon’s voice lowered, chilling the room like autumn’s first frost.
Her body froze in its frigid tendrils. Suddenly, she was a child again, pinned to the floor by her brother’s elbow with a dinner knife pressed to her throat. He’d drawn bloodover a collection of glass marbles gifted to Tethys by their father, now scattered along the tile floor. Tethys could still feel the cold edge of the knife collapsing her vocal cords.
Tethys swallowed hard. She considered pushing Procyon further, but given his fingers now white-knuckled with growing agitation, it was best to swallow her protest.
“Fine. As the council wishes it,” she spat. “But after sunset, I don’t want to see you, hear you, or even sense your presence.” She pointed a long, elegant finger at the lieutenant.
His brow arched and dipped his chin in a slight nod. “It will be as if I don’t even exist, my queen.”
“Good. Now, I’d like to retire for the night,” she snapped. A cool sweat dampened the nape of her neck as she took her leave. Procyon would surely request a certain sort of sendoff before his departure, and after their argument he’d be more monster than man. She flinched at the thought.
The fiery woman she’d briefly uncaged shrugged back behind bars as Tethys climbed the stairs to her bedchamber.
Of all she desired in life, her deepest want, maybe even need, in this moment, was simply to cease to exist. To shut off all emotions as if a switch controlled them.
Maybe then she’d accept the life she’d been given.
Maybe then she’d live through it as if she sat in the audience, watching every action, both happy and sad, play out on the stage before her.
Maybe then she’d fully comprehend why the universe was unrelenting with its razor-sharp cruelty.
Chapter 4
As the sun peeked over the horizon with gleaming golden hues, Tethys, like every morning, was awake to greet it. This time, however, she felt the irritant of an unwelcome presence, like a thorn in her side, as she watched the newborn light paint the garden in shades of peach and pink.
She’d chosen a simple lilac gown. The fitted sleeves, hemmed just above her thumbs, hid the purpling bruises painted around her wrists. The waterfall of linen, now pooling at her slippers, hid the matching blotches speckled over her thighs. Without her magic, she didn’t heal at the same rapid rate her siblings did. Although accustomed to the dull ache of discolored skin, the conservative gowns she’d requested after a night spent with her husband felt uncomfortable and heavy, leaving her sweating and breathless.
She adjusted her sleeve and turned from the window. Dawn’s light washed over her cheeks in topaz rays. Any other morning its light might warm her blushed brow, buttoday, only a bone-chilling cold settled on her skin.
“I don’t think I’m in danger of anything but a paper cut or speck of dust in the eye, Lieutenant,” she huffed.
Araes, stiff and silent like a good little soldier, stood by the study’s exit, watching her with an unwavering eye.
The night prior, after Procyon said his goodbyes, she couldn’t find sleep—lying tirelessly beneath the silken sheets in her four poster. The mural of ivy painted on the ceiling whispered cruel truths until the early morning light crept over its sage and emerald leaves.
She retreated to that safe place in her mind, stifling the disgust and discomfort between her legs just enough to keep the crack in her heart from splitting even further. When she sank into that numb, subconscious space, she rid herself of all feeling, all thought.
She simply existed.
Every so often, she’d grip the goose feather comforter in her fists just to be sure she was, in fact, grounded in physical form. Like the vines tangled above her bed, the fibers of her body twisted until she no longer resembled a human. She felt like a contorted mess of slithering tendrils. It was comfortable in nothingness. Maybe she’d stay there forever, catatonic and corpse-like.
But, with the chime of the grandfather clock below, a knock on her door snapped her back into harsh reality. Now, with sunlight pouring through the vast windows, she felt the darkness slither back into the depths of her heart.
“My orders are to accompany you at all waking time. Even at this ungodsly hour. You are awake, and alas, here I stand,” he said dryly.
His jaw ticked as he watched her scan his every detail. Araes was a beautiful man with a powerful body, but he couldn’t be trusted. Not even in the slightest. She was sure the council already picked at any little scab of information they could use to discredit her even more.
And so, while she sat outstretched on the settee, pretending to read the novella she held open with both hands, she observed the lieutenant. In the hour they’d been in the study, she’d learned three things. The first being that he stood with a predatory stillness, unlike any even her immortal siblings could achieve. He didn’t fidget or shift his weight more than twice.
