The fortress she’d built around herself these last few weeks needed to remain strong, to stand tall and unwavering. She’d finally put back together what few pieces remained. She couldn’t afford to fall apart right now. If she did, she feared she’d be irreparable.
“Now, go. Please,” Tethys begged. Her voice was hoarse, withholding the tears pooling just behind her eyes.
She couldn’t bear to break Jaide’s heart, but she had to, because if she didn’t, she’d break her own. And while Jaide’s would recover, Tethys knew her own wouldn’t.
Jaide’s eyes were bitter as she returned to her transport and entered the chariot, her glittering golden gown disappearing into its interior. The horseman, latching the door behind her, bowed toward the goddess before climbing to his seat.
Tethys unclenched her cramping fists and retreated to the settee in the study’s corner, beneath the windows that overlooked the garden. At least from there she could watchthe world safely behind crystalline glass.
† † †
Later that evening, the dinner bells rang and Tethys descended the grand staircase. She’d withdrawn so far into her thoughts she hadn’t noticed the hours pass without Procyon’s return. Now, as she started for the main dining room, she felt the freedom of his absence.
Part of her hoped he’d returned to Canissa already. She looked forward to being away from him for however long it’d take to reprimand his people for their insurgence. The first thing she’d do was request a change of sheets and ask the maids to scrub every crease and crevice of her chambers. She wanted to be rid of his essence entirely.
She passed the stiff portraits of the mortal nobility, running her nails down each stretched canvas. The lords and ladies looked down at her with disdain. Their perpetual frowns, painted on pursed lips, mocked her with every step.Pathetic, one seemed to say.Disgusting, said another. Tethys focused on her feet, lowering one foot then the other, attempting to drown out their hateful words.
Finally, her cream-colored slippers reached the rich red carpet in the main hall. She exhaled and started down the hall to the dining room.
The manor’s front doors were propped open, letting the fresh, springtime air circulate through the house. The early evening light filtered through white linen curtains that floated in the breeze, casting shadows along ancient wooden floors.
For tradition’s sake, Tethys was required to eat in the main dining room every evening. She often felt it absurd to sit at a table so full of various meats, fishes, and platters with every chair vacant but her own. When she first arrived in Venia, she missed the lively chatterof her family’s dinner table. Procyon and Altair fighting over the last smoked trout, Polaris rolling her eyes at them while she nibbled on a wedge of hard cheese. Most of all, she missed her mother’s gentle voice, hushing the boys from their bickering or making light of her father’s grueling scoldings. Phosphora’s moments of clarity were infrequent, but they were warm and full of love.
Light flickered from the tall, white candlesticks scattered around the room. They reminded Tethys of her. Phosphora was the warmth where she hadn’t realized she’d grown cold. Her mother’s embrace cured any ailment or childish heartbreak. Those gentle forehead kisses washed away all fear of this dark, rampant world.
Tethys flinched, suddenly no longer hungry. That was a time long-since passed. There was no sense in lingering in memories, especially when everything was irrevocably different. In her adolescence, Tethys clung to those moments, grounded herself in them. Now all they did was cause her heart to crack.
“The lieutenant has arrived, Goddess.” A servant’s knock on the dining-room door interrupted her spiraling thoughts. She gestured to the waitstaff, stiff and statuesque in the flickering candlelight. He bowed low and refilled Tethys’s chalice of honeyed wine.
“Thank you, Phaon,” she said.
The server smiled cautiously before retreating to his post. Tethys drained the chalice. The burn of alcohol as it fell down her throat numbed the ache in her head just enough to put up her shields. She straightened in her seat, smoothing her curls in place. It was safe becoming what everyone expected of her. So, like war paint, she traced lines of cool boredom along her lips.
“Enter,” she commanded.
“My queen, may I present to you the honorable Lieutenant Araes,” Phaon said, pulling open the heavy double doors.
Chapter 3
“So, you’re the noble lieutenant here to protect me from the rats in the kitchen and the spiders in the attic, then?” the goddess said, leaning into her chair. She crossed a thin leg and placed her hands on either armrest.
“My queen.” The man’s voice was disarmingly smooth, like velvet against skin. Her lips parted slightly as she watched the muscles in his back shift beneath a fitted uniform. The crimson cloak he wore, clasped at each shoulder with two golden swallowtail pins—the emblem of an officer early in his military career—framed his broad shoulders. His lethal beauty was sobering in the candlelight, and she shifted in her seat, praying she hadn’t become as translucent as she now felt.
The lieutenant bowed low with predatory grace. A lock of chestnut hair fell out of place across his smooth brow, and Tethys couldn’t help but notice the web of veins on the back of his large, calloused hand as he tucked it behind his ear. She nodded to Phaon, and the servant, as dutifullyas ever, refilled her chalice.
“Please soldier, have a seat. It seems we’ll be spending most of our time together, so we might as well get acquainted,” Tethys said finally, her voice laced with venom that could rival the most lethal of serpents. She gestured toward the vacant ladder-back chair at the opposing end of the table. Araes cleared his throat and unclasped the leather baldric hanging at his hip. Metal clanked as he passed the blade to Phaon.
The short-sleeved tunic he wore dripped down his chest, the strands of its tie had loosened during his travels, revealing the arc of a soldier’s build beneath white cotton. Araes was by far the most handsome mortal she’d ever seen, with his bright amber eyes and powerful jaw. The bob in his throat was well-defined, giving him an air of sharp masculinity, rivaled only by the statuesque marble sculptures residing in the manor’s exhibition hall.
“My queen, I shall uphold my duty to the highest of standards. You have my word,” he said, placing his fist across his heart before sitting—the soldier’s gesture of the highest honor.
“Yes, yes, you’ve sworn your life to guard me until any end.” Tethys stabbed a lone grape with her fork. “We both know I do not require a guard dog.”
“The Venian council suggests otherwise,” Araes replied, crossing his arms against his chest. His tunic wrinkled at the wrist, exposing thick black ink. Venian soldiers, as they rose in the ranks, branded their bodies with souvenirs, reflecting their kills on the battlefield. It was an archaic rite tracing back to the earliest of Venians, and, in Tethys’s opinion, was one that should’ve faded with time. But the eastern realm clung to their traditions tighter than snakes strangling their prey.
Being early in his career, she supposed his marks ended at the forearm. Any further up the body was only reservedfor the most decorated of officers.
She placed the grape in her mouth and watched Araes’s eyes follow her lips as she opened, then closed again to chew. Immortal beauty was the deadliest of weapons. Like moths to flame, mortals fell entranced by her physical form. It was sickening, really, how desperate a mortal man became for even just a flash of an intrigued smile or glimpse of a bare ankle.
