“I refuse to wait for others to clean out the damned cobwebs, Altair. Don’t you realize that? All I’ve ever done is wait. I’m tired of it. You will not tell our father.”
Araes’s chest tightened. Altair truly suggested she simply let the realms rip each other apart? For armies to yield to each other’s bloodshed? He knew his queen wouldn’t simply sit idly by and watch her people kill one another.
Not to mention, the promise she’d made to Leda weighed on her more than she let on. She might never acknowledge its significance, but she didn’t have to. He knew Tethys wouldn’t stop until those children were back in the safety of their parents’ arms—dead or alive.
“Venian children, terrified and alone, sit somewhere in the Rift. I cannot tell Father, because he’d rather they waste away than risk reopening the gate. I know you,brother. You care for your people just as much as I. If given the choice, would you, too, turn your back on them?” Tethys stood her ground.
“Exactly what are you proposing? We open the gate? Eos above sister, have you lost your mind? We can’t go against a primordial. You are magic-less, and I’m not strong enough to hold the gate myself.”
“It’s the only way. Besides, when the gate is open we can strengthen its wards and seal it for good.”
“How can you be so sure? What aren’t you telling us, Tethys?” Altair asked, spinning the golden ring on his index finger.
“Please just trust me on this,” Tethys whispered. The summer king chewed his lip, suspicion etched in the creases of his brow.
“Please…” she said again.
“In a week’s time, if you don’t have a plan to sort out this nightmare, I’m summoning Obscuros,” the god said, his voice stern in its resolution. “Now, the healers will arrive soon to examine you. I have a few matters to attend to with my council, but I’ll be home for dinner service. Try not to do anything irrational before I return.”
Tethys refused to meet Altair’s knowing eyes as he planted an affectionate kiss on her cheek and disappeared into sunlight. Finally, the two were alone. Araes slid the bedchamber door lock in place and sat at Tethys’s bedside. Her rage, like a shadow, haunted her every move as she picked at a delicate fingernail.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispered, risking a thumb across her cheek. Her icy exterior melted enough to grant him permission to continue. “It was agony thinking you might not ever wake up, Tethys. I—”
Her mouth on his shoved the words back down his throat. The goddess anticipated what he’d been about to say.It should have been me left in that cave. It should be me laying in that bed, broken, and half paralyzed.But his mindwent blank as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into the heat he so desperately needed. Her breath against his lips ignited his blood, and a heart he worried had stopped beating entirely pounded to life.
“I’ll never leave you again,” she whispered, twirling his hair between her fingers. “I promise.”
Araes leaned into her touch, letting her hands explore the hard lines of his body as they traced the countless battle scars he’d collected over the years. The world settled back into place around them. Trees deepened their roots. Rivers flowed once more. Even songbirds finally resumed their melodies.
With her breath, she’d given him life again, and he knew with his entire fucking body that he’d never let her go.
Chapter 57
Working with the healers, Tethys found her strength. One step became three, and then five, until she could traverse the distance from her bed to the door. Although her muscles ached and the bones beneath her skin felt as fragile as twigs, she was clear in her resolve.
She hadn’t yet told anyone about the truths she’d unveiled in her conversations with Eos. That box wasn’t one she’d likely open for a while, but the plans put in motion were restless to be shared. She’d allowed her body time to regain its strength; however, her mind pieced together a plan that would take more than a little persuading when pitched to her brother.
On her last day before Altair’s threat came to fruition, she sat with him in the dim evening light. The sun steadily descended below the horizon, flashing green at the split second it met the earth, and the world crept into shadow. Araes had excused himself to bathe and catch up on his regular correspondence with Ophis, giving Tethys the onlyopportunity she had to speak with her brother alone.
While she knew Araes wanted to rescue those children, she also knew he’d never agree to the risks she’d take in doing so.
“I know how we stop Vorthal, Altair. Without Obscuros’s aid,” she said, returning her golden spoon to the bowl. Her brother raised a brow.
“I’m listening,” he said, placing his wine on the round oak table beside them. At his request, two servants had moved a small breakfast table into her bedchambers so Tethys wouldn’t have to risk descending the stairs to attend dinner service in the dining room below. Although she appreciated his accommodations, her bedchambers felt more like a prison cell than a recovery room.
“I know where the gate between realms is,” Tethys said, plucking the prism key from her nightstand drawer. The click of its metal against polished oak was the only disturbance of sound in the quiet room as she placed it before Altair. “And I can seal it with this.” Altair crossed his arms and leaned against the back of his chair.
“Before I open the gates, you’ll create a ward around the door to prevent anything coming through. Once I find the children in the Rift, we reseal the gate and in doing so, strengthen the wards.” Tethys bit her lip, watching her brother for even the slightest twitch.
“Now I know you’ve lost your mind,” he said finally, straightening against the chair. “You’re telling me you want to open the only bridge between us and a primordial set on destroying our world? My wards aren’t strong enough to hold whatever might come through. Especially not a primordial. No. Absolutely not.”
“Maybe not by yourself, but with two immortals it’ll hold. At least for long enough to find the children,” Tethys said.
“What do you mean two immortals? Have you forgotten, Tethys, you’re magic-less?” He shook his head.
“I may be, but Polaris isn’t.”
“What you’re suggesting is ludicrous, Tethys. Absolutely not. Polaris won’t ever agree to this plan, and you know it,” he replied, the muscle ticking in his jaw. Altair’s features hardened into the stoic oldest brother he’d always been. Gone was the warmth she’d felt over the last few weeks, and although she knew it’d been fleeting, the possibility of deepening the connection with her sibling planted roots. She’d been a fool to think that maybe their time in Aquilae cracked the armored exterior he always hid behind. Drawing her last card, she took a breath.
