“The Blade of Astraeus, used to split the sky from the ground, we presume melted into the earth with the death of its wielder. The Orb of Eos, however, seemingly vanished with his death.”
Tethys snapped back into her body, the spiritual whiplash sending a pulse through her.
“Hold on…Euda, did you say the Orb of Eos? Was it not a gemstone?” she asked, her breath hitching.
“Well, yes. It’s sculpted from gemstones, but it’s perfectly spherical in shape. Hence, an orb. Continuing on…” Euda glanced up at Tethys from the ledger in response. She flipped the page of the text and carried on with the lesson.
Araes coughed quietly behind them. He’d recognized it, too.
“Euda. Please humor me for a moment. What does the Orb of Eos look like?” Tethys asked, leaning into her chair. Her palms itched with the burden of realization that hung heavy above her.
“How would I know that? Do I look like an all-powerful primordial to you? No, I simply relay the histories dictated to me by Queen Phosphora.” The ancient woman snapped the text shut and, with creaking knees, hobbled over to where Tethys now sat straight-backed.
“Well, does it have anything carved on it or what color is it at least?” Tethys asked, keeping her tone disinterested. Euda’s eyes narrowed as she tapped a single, slim finger against the desk.
“Only moments ago, you were slipping off to whatever daydream you go to. Now you’re more than eager to participate in the lesson. What’s going on?” she asked, taking another short step closer.
“Nothing, I was just curious,” Tethys said, inspecting her manicured nails.
“You’re never just curious, Tethys. Tell me this instant.”
Tethys flattened the wrinkles in her brow and clasped her hands together to keep from fidgeting. Her toes tapped beneath the satin of her slippers. Euda wasn’t a fool. She’d been the personal scribe of the primordials for as long as Tethys could remember.
“It’s nothing, Euda. Let’s move on. I’ve grown tired of this conversation,” Tethys said, flipping a tendril of hair over her shoulder.
“Well, to answer the question over nothing, your mother once mentioned there was an inscription on the orb. Something about the ‘life’ or ‘light’ of truth. She wasn’t sure, as she’d only ever seen the orb once after its creation.” Euda eyed the goddess with lips thinned and creased brows. The candlelight of a blazing sconce refracted in her spectacles as she leaned over the desk, closing the space between them. The ancient woman’s very aura shifted in a moment’s breath, and before Tethys could recoil from the warning swirling in her electric green eyes Euda said, “If I were you, Goddess, I’d think carefully before poking your nose somewhere it shouldn’t belong.” Her words were a near silent arctic blast. Tethys clenched her core, stifling the chill now shuddering down her spine.
“Like I said, Euda, I was simply curious,” she replied, swallowing the thick knot of dread rising in the back of her throat.
“Well then. If that’s the case, let us continue our lesson,” she said, regulating back to her normal, bitter demeanor.
Tethys thoughts pounded against the walls of her mind while the remainder of Euda’s lesson continued on in thebackground. If the object Lord Ophis found was in fact the Orb of Eos, then this was far more disastrous than initially thought. She’d had the sinking feeling that the gemstone was ancient and powerful on a primordial level the moment she’d seen its inscription painted on the archive mural, but now, Euda confirmed what she dreaded most.
This was big.
Primordial big.
The missing children and lowborn weren’t the only lives at stake. The entire continent was at risk. She realized suddenly that there’d be only one way she’d get the answers she sought. There were two individuals who’d witnessed the world’s birth. One of which was entirely untouchable. One of which she was entirely estranged from.
Later, she sat in the thick fog of silence, opposite Araes in the grand dining room. He’d remained silent even after Euda’s lesson and its catalyst for the avalanche now plowing towards them.
He’d remained silent when she’d opened her mouth to speak. To scream at him for his infuriating composure. To lunge for his neck out of sheer, unwavering rage.
How could he be so quiet, so cavalier, when the fate of the realm hung imbalanced on the scales of time?
He’d remained silent when she snapped her lips shut, deciding swiftly that this man. This mortal. Wasn’t worth her energy.
“Arissa,” Tethys announced, ripping a hole in the blanket of tension between them. “We’re throwing a ball. And we’re inviting my family.”
Chapter 34
In the weeks to come, Tethys busied herself with preparations for the ball. The excuse of selecting vendors from the open marketplace in Serpens gave her the chance to visit with the lowborn parents who fell victim to the loss of their child. With each mother or father she called upon, another piece of her already-fractured heart cracked away. The mothers, broken beyond repair, would plead for the goddess to act. Their partners, typically silent and comforting, blamed themselves for the loss.
Now, with the spring equinox nearly upon them, she and Araes made their way to the market square once more, having told Arissa their intentions were to choose a florist. She’d protested, arguing that the hired gardeners typically supplied the floral arrangements for manor events. Tethys had silenced her with a pointed look. She was queen, after all. Arissa was a faithful matron, having hosted dozens of balls and feasts for the highborn of Venia before. But now, Tethys decided, was the perfect opportunity to familiarize herself with not just the Venian’s of wealth, but also ofnothing. Even if she had ulterior motives.
“The Serpens marketplace is no place for nobility, my queen,” Araes huffed as their carriage made its way across the bridge connecting the two districts.
“That remains to be seen, Lieutenant,” she snapped, refusing to peel her eyes from the passing townhomes outside.
