A Shield of Fate and Ruin (Apollo Ascending Book 3), page 25
Salt spray speckled over his bare arms. “I’m sorry.” His expression didn’t change. “Don’t forget your role.”
“I’m trying to help Niria win this war. That’s my role.”
“No. That’s your current task. It’s not your purpose.”
My braids whipped out in the breeze, my feet sinking into the sand. “I’m so tired of everyone talking in circles. Just tell me what it is.”
“Your time comes. Soon. Don’t forget.”
“Forget what?”
But I didn’t get to hear his answer. Someone walked into my tent, rousing me from my sleep, their steps whisper-quiet against the ground. I yanked a knife out and jumped to my feet before grabbing the person and pressing the blade against his ribs.
He hissed, snatching my wrist, and I kicked his shin hard enough that he yelped. “Godsdamnit, Artemis, it’s me.”
I kept the knife tilted against the soft flesh between his ribs as I turned us into the light. Asher glowered at me, and I dropped the blade.
He yanked his coat back in place. “Do you gut everyone first and ask questions later?”
“If I’d intended to gut you, you wouldn’t be asking questions right now.”
He sighed and straightened his uniform. “Meeting in the main tent in fifteen minutes. I want you there… with strategies and ideas. Ansair marches towards us.”
My breath caught. We’d scarcely made it to our feet after the last battle. Now another one headed for us. And I didn’t know if we could endure it. But Asher wanted ideas. I had half a mind to tell him off. After all, they hadn’t listened to me the first time. But maybe today would be different. And we had to work as a unit. We couldn’t be like Emrin, dashing off with our own plans. “All right.” I thrusted the knife into my belt. “I’ll be there.”
He nodded. “I need to alert Orion and then I’ll head that way.”
“I’ll get Orion. You go ahead.” I tossed him a grin. “I’d hate for you to end up almost gutted a second time.”
He gave me an unamused look but nodded before stepping out of the tent. I yanked my vest on and another belt of weapons—knives I would not leave unsupervised in my tent—before marching out into the moonlit camp where stars glittered across a sea of ink.
I tapped into my powers, my muscles trembling, and beckoned the moon closer. It trembled before growing larger, lighting up the walkway. The magic washed through me, cool and tingling, and I smirked. I was getting the hang of it.
I jogged to Orion’s tent and slipped inside. He lay flat, his long fingers splayed out over his chest. In sleep he looked younger, his features softened and relaxed. I realized he was like me. Hard experiences had aged the expression he wore, making him seem older than he actually was.
“Orion,” I whispered, waiting at the back wall of the tent.
He woke, jumping to his feet, a blade in his hand, his eyes glinting sharper than the metal of it. I smirked again. That was something I had on Asher. You didn’t wake someone who has spent their life fighting to survive by getting in their face. Orion flipped the weapon in the air, catching it and sheathing it. “Temi.”
“Ansair is moving. Meeting in ten minutes.”
He paused for a moment, dark smudges under his eyes shimmering in the low light. But then he rubbed a hand over his face and grabbed clothing that sat neatly folded in the corner. “All right.”
I stepped out so he could dress, and a few minutes later we walked into the main tent together and found seats. Asher nodded towards us.
“I won’t waste anyone’s time.” Asher pressed his fingers into the table, the oil lamp in front of him casting a glow over his skin. “Ansair’s forces will be here before the sun reaches its highest point. They’re already marching.”
The various generals and war leaders frowned, some crossing their arms. One with large, ruddy eyebrows scowled. “And will Niria still fight?”
Asher pinned him with a look for a long enough moment that the man shifted back. “Our country always keeps its obligations.”
“Forgive me,” he said, “for offending you, Lord Asher. But you have to understand why Carens and our leaders might feel wary. In a week’s time, you’ve lost not one king but two, and presently have no ruling authority.”
“King Magnes,” he said, “authorized Princess Epiphany—in writing—to decide on his behalf for this war, and she has sanctioned our actions today. And, regardless, Niria has always been clear about our aims.” He swept his gaze over the group. “Our leaders have had no guile with our allies during this entire campaign. We all lost men in the first battle, but Niria lost the most. We’ve all suffered and bled and sacrificed, but Niria more than any other. And we remain here,”—he slammed his hand down on the table causing it to tremble—“facing the darkest times in our country’s memories but doing so bravely, prepared to face this threat and honor what we stand for, carry through the alliances we have with the other countries represented here.”
Tension laced through the room, faces darkened in lamplight, eyes lost in shadows. Asher raised his chin. “If anyone no longer holds to the vows they made, then leave.” He gestured to the opening in the tent, the flap that swayed around in a breeze. “Niria stands by her promises.”
No one moved for a moment, and the man who spoke cleared his throat, bowing his head.
“Very well.” Asher tapped against the table. “We must finalize a strategy for today. The last battle was a disaster.”
“Because of the wind god’s involvement,” someone said.
I clenched my jaw. I had warned them of that, and they hadn’t listened. Maybe if they had, Delon would still be alive, Emrin would still be alive.
“Yes,” Asher said. “Which is why we need to rethink our approach.”
“We don’t have time,” the first man said. “Our troops aren’t trained. Trying to implement a new method in hours would be a disaster.”
Orion sucked his teeth. “We have a few soldiers who have been training to shoot on horseback from the wood line.”
I nodded and pulled my necklace out from under my vest, gliding my fingers over the bronze key. “I know a goddess I can call on. What if we do the same to Ansair’s forces that they did to ours?”
“What do you mean?” Asher said.
“Give them a battle they don’t expect. What if they found themselves fighting in the dark?”
An officer farther down with an emerald green jacket scoffed. “And how are our men supposed to fight in the dark?”
“They wouldn’t be. The goddess I know, she has more than a few tricks on hand.”
“Are you certain you can get this goddess to come?” A man with beady eyes growled. “After all, not even your own father answered your summoning.”
Orion stiffened beside me, and my heart rate picked up. I didn’t know how they heard about that, but I had to take a deep breath to keep my anger swallowed down. “I suspect my father is dead.” The entire group stilled at that.
“Poseidon is a high god,” the man nearest to me said. “How could he be dead?”
“He crossed Zeus, much as we are all doing. He likely paid the price.” I gripped my hands against the table. “Now, do we want to sit here and continue to subtly insult each other, or do we want to actually discuss strategy?”
Later, I stood outside at the hour before dawn, stars still peppered across the sky, and I inclined my head to Hecate. “Thank you for helping us.”
The snake gliding over her shoulders brushed strands of her auburn hair loose and it slipped its tongue into the air, causing the generals who hadn’t left to form up their troops and disseminate the plan to cringe and step away. Hecate smiled cruelly, her eyes glittering in their direction.
I needed to learn from her. I bet there wasn’t one man in this camp who would give her shit. She turned back to me. “I’m glad to help. And this intrigues me. I’ve never been called to war before.”
“Surprising as a goddess connected with death.”
She cocked up an eyebrow and ran her fingers over the creature’s scales. A soldier behind her cringed. “It’s remarkable how little men who plan wars think of death when they do so.”
“You speak true, Hecate,” a deep voice said.
I whirled around and Hades stood silhouetted in fog, tucked in with shadows, his dark curls softened by it, a glint in his eye. Hecate crossed her arms. “Decided to join me, after all?”
“I never hesitated. I only wished to discuss it with Persephone first.”
“And?”
His jaw worked. “She must continue to appease her mother for now by staying at her side so the vindictive creature doesn’t rush to Zeus for his aid and alert him of our plans. But soon…” His gaze slipped to me. “A change comes. And all our lives will improve.”
Hecate arched an eyebrow. “Very well. Are you prepared to teach a wind god a lesson?” She offered her elbow, and he draped his arm into it.
“I am, actually. I’ve grown rather partial to the prince he killed.”
Hecate grinned, nodding to me, before they dispersed into the masses of soldiers who parted from them like they carried the plague. I knew the only reason they could afford to help us was that Zeus was too distracted to be aware of their involvement. But I appreciated their support. And it was a boost, to have some gods on our side. I swept into the camps, searching for Orion. Troops stood dressed and lined up, leaders calling out instructions, stablemen readying horses.
The entire space was a hornet’s nest knocked from a tree, buzzing and irritated.
But Orion was nowhere to be found, his second in command preparing his group. And then I realized where he had to be. “Arion,” I called out. A minute later, he jostled up to me and lowered his snout for me to scratch. “I need to go into the forest. Interested in a jog before all hell breaks loose?”
He pressed in closer to me, energy thrumming through his body.
I grinned and rubbed under his chin. “I thought so.”
I jumped onto his back, and he thundered past the noise of the troops, jumping fallen logs and weaving into the woods. “This way. Follow that bit of a path to the right.”
He gave his head a toss and clattered along it. When we approached the clearing, I patted his neck, and when he stopped I jumped down. “Don’t go too far,” I said, and he butted his nose gently into my shoulder.
Orion hunched over the rock. Smoke from incense swirled against the glittering expanse of the night sky.
I leaned against a tree. “Hoping to curry favor with some god or another before we fight?”
Orion startled and then blew out the flame, thick tendrils of smoke blooming as the fire died. “Nah, nothing like that.”
Something serious emanated off him. Something that didn’t fit his giant grins and endless optimism. “Did I interrupt?”
He brushed the rest of the ash away and stood, his shoulders looming in silhouette against the silky expanse of the sky above him. “No. You’re fine.”
“Are you worried?”
He dusted his tunic off. “You’d think it’s ridiculous.”
“Try me.”
He sighed and combed his fingers through his hair. I’d never seen him fidgeting and nervous like that before, not in battle nor facing down leaders. “I was just sending a prayer for my sister.”
My voice dropped a cadence, coming out gentle. “She’s unwell?”
A sparkle swept over his eyes again, and he eased the incense holder back into his bag. “No. She passed away many years ago.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
He waved his hand at me. “Where I come from, we don’t see death… the way it’s seen here.”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged and dropped by the rock, lifting his face to the sky. “It’s not feared in the same manner. We don’t believe we go to the underworld to face judgment and all of that.” He hesitated and looked at me like he was weighing out how I was responding.
I lowered beside him and rested my forearm over my knee. “Do you mind me asking what you believe?”
“After death”—he pointed up to the glittering sky above the tree branches—“we become stars.”
My lips snapped apart, but I swallowed my words back. He’d said his sister died. There was nothing good that could come of debating out the finer points of his belief system, even if it seemed a stretch. “You haven’t told me about your family before.”
“I wasn’t always a soldier, you know.”
“What were you… before?”
A huge grin spread over his face, the expression I was used to seeing on him. “My family lived in a village of cattle farmers. We raised cows for milk and dairy products. You know, cheese and rennet and stuff.”
“You were a cheese farmer?”
He laughed and slapped his thigh. “A cheese farmer? That’s not even a thing. We were dairy farmers when I was young. I enjoyed it, too, actually.”
“How did you end up here?”
He stilled, the expression ebbing off his face, his skin smoothing back out. He swallowed and his throat bobbed. “Me and a few of the boys from our village went on a cattle drive. It was a coming-of-age custom for us. We had a grand time. But…” He paused for a moment, his gaze growing distant. “When we returned, our homes were gone.”
“Gone?” I whispered. It suddenly felt wrong to speak, something irreverent and unnerving buzzing in the air.
“The entire village had burned to the ground.”
I gasped. “Was it—”
“Zeus. Yeah, that was the rumor. So,”—he waved his hand out in the camp's direction—“we all pledged to join the army. I always had a good handle with knives and a sense of balance when throwing ropes and such. Turns out those skills had other uses. That’s how I ended up here.”
We grew quiet for a heartbeat, birds chirping filling the silence. “Tell me about your sister?”
Orion’s lips puckered, and he suddenly looked younger and full of mischief. When he spoke, his words came out with more of a drawl. “Emmy was a mite of a thing. The biggest bit on her were her blue eyes.” His grin widened. “I always said her eyes held the whole of the sky.” He tapped his thumb against his knee. “She had weak lungs and my Pa worried about it endlessly. It’s funny how worry is, ya know? You spend so much energy on it and in the end, it didn’t matter a bit.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He lifted his face again. “She’s at peace now. No more struggling to breathe. One day…” He chuckled. “With the way things are going, maybe one day soon, I’ll join them.”
A peacefulness ebbed off him, and I studied the stars that lingered over the pink of the morning sky. There was a beauty to them. Like the moon that they sparkled around. I sighed, a contented sound. “So, in the future, you want to be a star?”
“Now you’re teasing me.”
I kicked a leg out. “Of course not. I’m the goddess of the fucking moon. I take the night sky very seriously.”
He smirked. “I knew you’d make fun of me.”
“I’m not.” I shared his grin but met his gaze. His expression softened as I spoke again. “I like that belief. I think it’s beautiful.”
“Ack.” He jumped up to his feet, and I joined him. “Maybe one day you can burn memoriams for me.”
“We’ll both survive this war,” I said as I stood with him.
He cocked up an eyebrow. “Is that right?”
Suddenly I didn’t know. He was mortal, after all. But I had the strangest sensation that I wanted it to be true.
He clapped my shoulder. “Come on. I’ve probably spent too long out here. It’s about time to line up.”
He turned and rustled through lanky ferns and bushes.
I sucked in a breath, holding it.
It was time to face a battle. And he could die in it.
And the idea of that terrified me.
34
Epiphany
I smoothed down the front of my dress but frowned at my reflection in the mirror. Dark circles swept under my eyes and my skin seemed dull. I had slept little. About the time I’d finally fallen into slumber, a messenger woke me, asking for my approval to move forward with the battle. I’d given it. What else could I do? It was what Father had wanted, to protect our people, to help change the structure of the gods. But I couldn’t help but think that I signed off on more daughters losing their fathers today and it left me feeling wretched. After I’d offered my consent, I’d lain awake, watching shadows of tree limbs dance across the ceiling, and thinking of every loss coming for our people on this new day. Of every loss I’d experienced in the last week.
My father.
And Emrin.
And Valerian.
It was too much.
I didn’t understand how my body continued drawing air into its lungs, kept growing thirsty or hungry or achy. As if it had a right to keep on living when everyone else didn’t. When my heart broke and my soul shattered.
I pulled open the door to my suite, almost numb to the world around me where servants dusted picture frames that lined the halls and leaders of our allies inclined their heads deeply to me. Sunlight danced over the tile floors like magic. And I wanted to scream. What right did the sun have to rise?
I raised my face when I reached Galeson. He rose from his seat at the table, tossing his napkin onto it, and stood. He bowed, his blue eyes lingering with a depth of feeling I didn’t deserve. “Epiphany, I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“I would like to speak with you…” I darted my gaze around the room where people watched us without even pretending otherwise. “Alone.” I swallowed. “If you’re able.”
“Of course,” he whispered, and he offered me his arm. I took it, guilt gnawing its way through me. He led us down the hall, to a door, and outside to an inner-courtyard dominated by the rushing sound of water running in a fountain and a slew of greens that tangled together, alive and bright under the sunshine.
