“In all seriousness, Goddess, if you find yourself in need of…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “A moment away, I’ll be taking the third watch. My tent will be vacant and is at your disposal.” He gestured to Procyon’s slow approaching figure across the clearing.
Tethys bristled at the unexpected kindness. There itwas again. That pity flashing in his amber eyes. This man, thismortal, was looking at her with such pained concern as if she were weaker than a mouse.
Weak.
Pathetic.
Useless, Tethys.
Chained to a husband who stomped all over her.
Her shame burned bright amidst the surrounding shadow.
“I thank you for your concern, Lieutenant. However, I don’t require a momentaway. Nor will I ever,” she replied, her voice sharp and controlled. The muscle in his jaw flexed as the space between them shifted to that of contempt.
“If you change your mind, then,” he muttered.
“I don’t believe I will. Now, please move, Lieutenant,” she hissed.
There was silence between them for a moment, but she refused to let her burning gaze falter. He lifted a perfect brow and sidestepped again. The goddess’s shoulder brushed against his as she made for her chariot, leaving the lieutenant alone to the night.
Chapter 8
The lingering mist from the night’s chill blanketed the clearing in dense, milky-white fog. While trees shrouded the sunrise from view, Tethys could feel the new day’s light chasing the horizon. Procyon, still snoring in an unmoving sleep, groaned as she uncurled his arm from around her waist and slipped out of bed.
When would she tire of this routine? It was exhausting, every morning washing his very essence from her body, shielding herself with the rising dawn, only to sink back into that numb, broken shell by night’s arrival.
The convoy was silent in their drunken slumbers. A cool breeze bristled the trees, and leaves, disturbed from their branches, floated to the ground. These quiet mornings—when she felt like the only being left on the continent—offered her a small sliver of peace amidst the chaos, like she could finally breathe without worry of a gaze drenched in scrutiny or a wandering, curious eye.
Her solitude, however, was short lived when a certain lieutenant paced back from the trailhead. His weapon,sheathed at the hip, clanked with each powerful stride. Exhaustion circled his eyes, she noticed, as they found her across the clearing.
“You’re up early,” she clipped, dipping her waterskin into their reserves. Although their route followed the snaking riverbed, Procyon insisted they carried barreled water. It was an excess weight for the horses’ pack, and although she knew their staff and horse-hands protested, none made their disagreements known. None dared to question the great Autumn King himself. Little did they know that same divine ruler was still slumped and drooling like a babe in his bed.
“I took the dawn’s watch, my queen. The previous patrol heard whispers along the tree line, so I was making sure our encampment was still secure,” he replied. The words were low and gruff, sending a warmth through her system she swiftly ignored. Yes, seeing him like this, with disheveled hair and slackened clothes, did something to her, but never in a thousand years was she about to admit that.
“And what did you find?” she asked, scanning the trees herself.
“Nothing,” was his reply. Araes dipped his chin and found a seat on a rotting, ancient stump.
“Those drunken fools probably heard a leaf rustle and cried wolf,” Tethys scoffed, joining Araes on the stump.
He smirked and retrieved an apple from his satchel. “Most likely.” Rather than biting into the fruit, however, he passed it to her.
“Thank you, Lieutenant, but I’m not hungry,” she replied, gesturing a refusal.
“It will be a long morning ride once camp is packed out. You’ll need some sustenance for the journey,” he insisted.
She clicked her tongue and took the fruit from him.
“Did you find sleep?” Araes prodded, bracing an elbowon his knee. She knew the question had more depth to it, but that was a line she wasn’t yet ready to cross. Araes had shown her kindness this morning between the faint sun beams refracting off ancient tree trunks and rippling brush, but he’d once called her naive.Childish. She wouldn’t mistake his pity for compassion.
“I did not give you leave for such casual conversation,” she snapped.
“Apologies, my queen,” he replied, his jaw ticking. Araes rose from his seat and started for the paddock. His black mare huffed a delighted greeting as he retrieved a second apple from his satchel and outstretched it to her.
Tethys sat in silence for a while, watching him care for the horse. His brush moved lazily down her mane.He was exhausted, she realized. He hadn’t needed to pick up an extra watch. There were plenty of city guards to fill the position, and yet, he did.
Maybe he avoided the discomforts of his makeshift tent. Or maybe, like her, memories haunted him like wolves in the midnight chill.
