When finally the last guest stumbled to their carriage and disappeared down the drive, Tethys and her siblings retired to the study. The fireplace roared with golden crackling light.
Obscuros stayed wary of Tethys throughout the remainder of the evening; however, she did her best to keep from squirming too noticeably beneath the weight of his suspicions. When the primordial couple took their leave and disappeared in a cloud of shadow, Tethys finally felt her body relax.
She and Polaris had taken to the dance floor, swirling and twirling amongst grinning couples. It felt, for a moment, like their childhood. With aching calves and hoarse vocal cords, Tethys allowed herself a moment to forget. To slip into a reality where she and Polaris had remained close.You are not alone in this,she’d said.
The words were warm and comforting, but were they just words? With the rising dawn, Polaris would disappear to her wintry mountain keep. Her sister was as fleeting astime itself, and while Tethys hoped that maybe one day things would revert to old times, her expectations were low.
Now, Polaris sat beside Tethys, buried in Eos’s edition of the Theogony. On occasion, she’d bring a neglected brandy glass to her lips, but her eyes stayed tethered to the words on each page.
Tethys tapped her fingers on the sofa’s armrest as she suffered the agonizing drawls of her brothers’ heated conversation. They’d been arguing over war strategy. Procyon insisted that swift and powerful attacks were superior, whereas Altair believed diplomatic and cunning moves resulting in the least damage were best. Tethys, having studied many of General Otto’s publications, along with that of the realm’s great military leaders, agreed with Altair this time. One cannot lead a realm lost to the flames.
“Brother, you are young, and your fire is notable, but you lack experience,” Altair said, crossing his legs and settling into the leather armchair he’d claimed for the evening. Procyon swirled the brandy in his hand and glared at his brother. At least his attention remained on Altair for the evening. Tethys couldn’t shake the feel of his tongue as he slipped it between her lips. She knew when her siblings retired for the evening that he’d join her upstairs. Dread sank like pebbles to the pit of her stomach with every tick of the midnight clock.
“A good commander weighs his options and chooses one with the least wasted blood. You are still in the infancy of leadership. Be wise with the repercussions,” Altair said. Procyon cursed under his breath and shifted his weight from the mahogany desk he leaned against.
“But, brother, you’re not listening…”
Tethys stifled a yawn and snuck a glance behind her, expecting to see her lieutenant. The events of the night burned on her lips, and she begged for a moment with him. Procyon excused him for the evening, however. After all,she was safe in the presence of her husband.
“Ah yes, here it is,” Polaris murmured, more to herself than anyone.
“What have you found?” Tethys asked, leaning closer to keep her brothers from hearing. Not that they’d listen, anyway. Her sister smelled like the air before snowfall. She swallowed the memories as they rushed up her throat.
“Mother kept saying ‘the key’, and it got me thinking, what if, just as your orb, she meant another astral relic?” she recalled. Her finger traced the small script written before them. “And just as the worlds ripped apart by Astraeus’s blade, the prism key sealed the bridge that connected them. She spoke the sacred phrase, forever imprisoning Vorthal and his wrath with one word.Vincio.”
“I’m not familiar with the primordial tongue. What does that mean?”
“There isn’t a word in the common tongue that translates perfectly, but I believe it’s similar tobindor tolace together,” Polaris said.
Tethys bit her bottom lip, reading the words again and again.
“Does it say where Eos kept the key?” she asked.
“That’s the thing. Eos didn’t have the key,” Polaris replied, her pupils bouncing between pages. “Mother’s astral relic is the prism key.”
Before Tethys could formulate a response, Altair rose to his feet and paced toward his sisters.
“What are you two whispering about over there?” he asked. Polaris snapped the book shut and placed it between them on the sofa. Tethys shifted, letting the folds of her gown pool across its front cover.
“Just gossiping, that’s all,” Polaris said, rising to meet him. “The hour is late and dawn approaches. Let us return to our realms.”
Procyon drained his brandy and set the glass down.Tethys fought against a flinch as his eyes locked on hers.
“Agreed. There’s silken sheets and a mortal man calling my name,” Altair chuckled. He tucked a long braid that’d come loose from the tie he kept them in and pulled his older sister into a short embrace. “It was good seeing you. If you find you miss the sun up in those frigid mountains of yours, there’s a room for you in my palace.”
“I’m afraid the sun does not take kindly to me,” Polaris scoffed and kissed her brother on the cheek.
Procyon blew her a kiss from across the room. “Return to your cobwebs and shadowy rooms, sister.”
“It was good seeing you too, baby brother,” she laughed.
Altair held a firm hand out for Procyon, who received it stiffly. They grunted goodbyes at one another before shifting focus to their youngest sibling.
“Tethys, this was an impressive evening. I must admit, my expectations were low, but I thoroughly enjoyed myself,” Altair sniffed.
Tethys bit her lip. “Wonderful to know I’ve bested your expectations, Altair. You’re a charm, as always.”
Altair embraced her gently. She stiffened as he whispered into her ear.
