“She’s a beautiful little girl. Clever. Funny. She takes after me with her hair. It’s a rare color, you know. Not a lot of Venians are redheads. It makes her easy to spot in the crowds, I s’pose,” Leda said, her voice wavering slightly.
“Are you okay to tell me about how she disappeared? Maybe she was doing something out of the ordinary or acting unusual?” Tethys asked. From her vantage point, she watched Araes’s curly brown hair sway, as if he shifted in his stance, debating whether to interrupt the conversation.
“No, like I told the city guards, she asked if she could go play with a group of neighboring kids. I said yes and didn’t think much of it until it was evening and we were closing up shop. When she isn’t at seminar, she’s very rarely here with me unless I need help with something. It was a slow day, like most are, unfortunately, so I let her go play.” Leda clasped her hands together and placed them in her lap.
“Is there anything you can tell me that might be helpful? Anything you might’ve thought of since speaking with the city guards?” Tethys asked, searching the woman’s face for any indication.
“No, I can’t think of anything. I’m sorry,” Leda said. A tear trickled down her cheek bone and she swiftly wiped it away in hopes of maintaining her composure.
“It’s okay, Leda. You don’t have to be strong around me. I’m not a mother so I cannot understand how devastating losing a child might be, but I want to assure you that I’m doing everything in my power to find your daughter.” Tethys placed her hand on Leda’s. It was cold and brittle.
“Thank you, Goddess. I beg of you, bring my daughterhome. Please,” she whispered.
“I’ll try with everything I can. You have my word,” Tethys said, stroking the back of Leda’s hand with her thumb. “I don’t want to reopen old wounds, so if you think of absolutely anything that might be relevant or helpful, please send word directly to the manor. I’ll notify my staff to keep an eye out for your family’s seal.”
The goddess rose to her feet and smoothed the wrinkles from her skirts. She offered a hand to Leda, who took it cautiously. The woman thanked them as she followed Tethys back to the storefront. Before the goddess took her leave, however, Leda plucked a fresh cut daffodil from the small, wooden barrel of them sitting in the dirty window and handed it to her.
“My offering to you for the equinox, Goddess,” she said, dipping her chin. Tethys took it and placed it against her heart.
“Thank you. I meant what I said. I’ll do everything in my power to bring your daughter home.”
Leda nodded sadly and sucked in a breath.
“Oh, one more thing. If the city guard’s find Helen, please, have them give her this.” Leda pulled a vial of dried herbs from her skirts. “It’s the tonic she takes for her lungs. She was born with an ailment that makes it quite hard for her to breathe. This helps soothe her throat when a coughing fit comes on.”
Tethys pocketed the vile and reassured Leda that she would.
“Thank you again for your time,” she said before stepping out into the afternoon sunlight.
“I hope you didn’t make empty promises to that woman,” Araes seethed. “It’s more likely than not her child is dead and if you promised to bring her home safely—that mother is already devastated as is. Don’t give her a false sense of hope.”
Tethys stepped into Araes’s space. Her chest risingwith furious, shallow breaths. He met her body against his with equal strength as if refusing to shy away from her challenge.
“You think I would do that?” she hissed, their noses mere inches apart. The air from her nostrils flared as she suppressed the flaming anger now scorching her insides. The audacity of this man to assume she’d stoop so low as to make false promises.
“You’re treading a dangerous path, Goddess. At some point or another, there will be those that come with questions,” he said, his voice a mere murmur of ice cold restraint.
“Then let them come. I promised that mother I’d do everything in my power to try and bring her home. I fully intend on fulfilling that promise. With or without you.”
Chapter 35
Tethys stood beside her mother, sharing in her silent grief. Phosphora, with luminous turquoise eyes, wiped a tear from her midnight cheek. A figure, silent and solemn, placed a bundle of blankets in Phosphora’s outstretched hands.
“I promise you,” Phosphora said, her narrow shoulders shaking with stifled sobs. “This is what’s best.”
Another figure, taller than the first, appeared in the darkness. Their faces, as if behind a rain-glazed window, were blurred, but Tethys didn’t need to see to know who they were. Eos and Astraeus. The keeper of dusk wrapped his arm around his lover and guided her gently through the shadowy haze until their figures disappeared entirely.
“You’re safe now,” Phosphora whispered, hushing little cries rising from the bundle in her arms. She rocked it, soothing it with hushed songs. Tethys leaned into her mother, hoping to catch a glimpse of the babe, now settled into a quiet slumber. Phosphora turned abruptly though, her starlit dress swishing as she started in the opposite direction. Although her strides were even and slow, Tethys ran to keep up withher. She sputtered for air and pushed her legs to their limit, but the distance stretched until her mother was but a silvery blur on the horizon.
Her body twisted and contorted against an invisible assailant. The shadows wrapped themselves around her ankles, throwing her to the ground before dragging her into their darkness. Tethys screamed, clawing at the obsidian floor beneath her, searching for anything to cling and hold her position steady. There was nothing, however, as she plunged into the swirling black mist. Her mother’s song echoed in the air, sending shockwaves through the vast expanse of space.
Tethys’s pulse raced, preparing for her captor’s claws to sink into her flesh. But she slid to a halt, her legs cramping and her back aching. Silence. Nothing but silence remained. The shadows slithered down her legs and dissipated into mist. She stood again, her eyes etched along the horizon.
A faint light in the distance beckoned her forward. She ran to meet it, refusing to give the shadows an opportunity to again take hold.
“Now that it’s sealed, we cannot let her find this,” Phosphora said, her blurred figure again coming into view. The babe she’d carried was no longer in sight. Instead, she held a small silver key. The light emulating from the Primordial’s very core seeped into its metal structure, giving it a faint iridescent glow. Tethys risked a step closer. The crashing of waves shook the cavern of darkness around them, and sharp salted air bristled her nose—like the ocean tide and vast landless horizons.
Phosphora closed her eyes, letting her light illuminate rugged stone walls and jagged salt deposits. This was a cave of some kind? Tethys reached for her mother once more, but her hands slipped through the primordial’s shoulder and fell to her side.
