“Rubies and darkness, rubies and dust,” Phosphora whispered, her gaze vacant and unfocused.
“I may have been adulterous in my marriage, but ask me why, every time Procyon came to Venia, I wore long sleeve dresses. Ask me why, even now, I’m terrified to be inhis presence. Or why Altair shields me behind his wards.”
Obscuros’s eyes simmered as she spoke, and the court fell silent. Tethys felt Procyon’s furious stare bore into her, but she summoned the strength to keep going.
“You want to discuss the violations of marital vows?” She took another step forward, feeling the ward strengthen around her. “Ask me what Procyon did after he found out about Lord Ophis’s party. There are parts of me, both physically and mentally, that willneverrecover from him. Parts of my body that hurt just standing before you now. He held me down even when I begged for him to stop.”
“Daughter, I—” Obscuros winced.
“Throughout my entire life, not once have you heard me. Not once have you trulylookedat me. I know why, and I don’t blame you. I’ve learned the truth of my lineage. But please, I’m begging you to understand who the real enemy is.” Tethys threw the primordial a knowing look. His sleek black hair hung loose down his jaw.
“You’re treading into dangerous matters, daughter.” Obscuros stiffened on his throne.
“I know of the gate. Of the Rift,” Tethys sucked in a breath, “of Vorthal. You’ve kept everything from us—altered our great histories to wipe it clean. Tell the court the truth, Father. Tell them all what lurks just beyond our world.”
“Enough!” Obscuros slammed his fist on his throne, “You know nothing, daughter. Nothing.”
“I knoweverything,” she spat.
The courtroom shared quiet murmurs as they took in Tethys’s words, searching for meaning in subtle admissions.
“That truly was moving, little bird,” Procyon mused. “But your sob story won’t change anything. The fact of the matter is, your son is a bastard. You’ve broken our union and in doing so, there will be war. If a band of angry farmers could burn your city to the ground, imagine what thefull force of the Canissaen army will do.”
“Let them try, Proc. Let them try,” Tethys hissed, flaring her canines.
“Silence!” Obscuros boomed. “I’ve heard enough from both of you. Tethys, there are powers in play far greater than you or me. Don’t speak another word of what youthinkyou know. Bring in the next testimonial, I tire of this bickering.”
Movement flickered in the shaded corner on Tethys’s left. Sitting limply in the shadows was a frail, full bearded figure. He shifted into the light, and Tethys’s heart shattered. Araes’s breathing was wheezy as he fluttered in and out of consciousness. His wrists were bloody and irritated from the shackles that held him to the wall.
“This is my last testimonial. This mortal man who disobeyed direct orders and committed treason against the crown. He is an enemy to Venia and Canissa alike.” Procyon scowled and pointed a deadly finger toward him, then back at Tethys. “Can you feel it? The Elytheran bond tethering them together? Mywifeperformed the rites with him, and now she carries his son. The child cannot be allowed to live and neither can he.”
“You will not lay even a finger on either of them, Procyon,” Tethys said, cradling the infant closer to her chest. Araes glanced toward her with unseeing eyes. It broke her heart seeing him this way—so fragile and frail.
“Such a sharp tongue behind the safety of our brother’s shields, little bird. Do you feel your lieutenant’s heartbeat? Or did the bond break when my magic seeped under his skin?” Procyon snarled, pacing the courtroom.
“I’ll kill you!” Tethys cried, feeling the rage course through her veins, washing over each muscle and bone.
“The Elythera? What have you done, daughter? Those rites are sacred and to have performed them with amortal? You’ve brought shame on us all.” Obscuros’s black eyes flashed as he spoke. “Procyon is right, Tethys. Thechild goes against our very nature. He is a threat to the mortal realm. A human body isn’t designed to withstand our power. If he doesn’t burn himself out when that magic manifests, who knows what might happen when it comes to fruition.” Obscuros’s tone held a foreign softness. “I’m sorry.”
“No. No. You can’t take him from me. He’s my son, Obscuros. Your grandchild,” she begged. “I won’t let you take him.”
“Father, you can’t be serious! The child is merely a babe,” Altair protested, stepping beside Tethys. “We don’t know if his magic will even manifest. Tethys’s didn’t. You’re talking about murdering an innocent babe.”
“Do not assume I’m taking this decision lightly,” Obscuros countered, directing his attention toward the oldest son. The primordial snapped his finger. His shadows slithered along the floor and circled Altair’s shimmering shield. “Lower your ward, Altair.”
“No.”
“I said lower it,” Obscuros repeated.
“Never,” Altair growled.
“You’ve left me no choice,” the primordial snarled as he snapped his finger again. Shadows crept up the iridescent veil until all Tethys could see was darkness. They tightened their binds, flexing the ward until it burst into aether.
“No, Father. Don’t do this!” she sobbed, struggling against the primordial’s power.
Frigid, translucent hands gripped her shoulders and twisted over her fingers, then her wrists. Aryx screeched in her arms, desperate for his mother’s warmth. Tethys strained against them, every muscle in her body rigid under their all-powerful grip.
“Bring me the babe, Otto.”
