Page 35 of A Monarch's Fall

Arvid sighed, “The King’s Mother was perhaps a relative of Narcissus. She thought herself a descendant of the Gods, and her dear and only son was a continuation of herself. The King’s Mother detested her own name; she was the youngest of her siblings, the only girl born of her father, the late King Phobastes. What a name, bringer of fear, and that he was until his grandson outshone him.”

“What was the King’s Mother’s name?” I asked.

“King Phobastes had three sons who all died early, but before their deaths, his only daughter was born. He cherished her. But she was a female. Weak in his assessment. He named her Hebe,after the cupbearer to the Gods. There to serve the family, to be young and youthful, beautiful and obedient, and to be a good wife in the forming of an alliance.

“Yet Queen Hebe outlived her older brothers, her father and her mother. She was far from weak. Queen Hebe refused to name her only child. The laws don’t apply to the Royals. She believed that names had meaning and power. Her child would earn his name. And by seventeen, King Nyx did just that.”

“Why Nyx?” I asked. Why had Selene never told me the story of her father and grandmother? She had rarely spoken of her family, but to go without a name for so long was surely something to mention.

“Nyx, the child of Chaos, the personification of night herself, was feared even by Zeus. What a title, what a namesake. Our now King was not put off by the gendered name, for Nyx is not a simple Goddess; she is a force, older than the Olympians, eternal, inevitable, and untouchable,” Arvid explained.

I was mostly familiar with Poseidon, whom my village worshipped, and Demeter, the Goddess of Flores. The primordial forces born of Chaos were just vague names that I knew little about.

“How did he gain such a name?” I asked.

“By ruthlessly killing his enemies. King Nyx came down like a darkness, like night herself, on the remaining Auster coven. Even almost two centuries later, Auster loyalists were rife in the south of the Borealis Kingdom. Small skirmishes, strongholds, and alliances that still held. He began what would become decades of assassinations. Ending with Nikolas Auster and his half-blood son of the same name,” he told me.

I stopped leaning forward then. Arvid smiled; he knew my relation to Auster and to those he spoke of.

“King Nyx’s attacks were brutal, but quiet. There was no escape, and the remaining Auster bloodline and loyalists beganto speak of him as the coming darkness, his ruthless assurance of power and of Borealis domination as an unyielding force that could not be stopped. A war fought in the shadows, one that Auster did not recognise as war until there was no one left standing.

“But we both know that’s not quite true, don’t we? There are some of Auster left today. One Oceanus Maria and his daughter, Persephone Flores. Two apparently inconsequential individuals. Outsiders on the fringe of society. No threat to anyone or anything. Not even worth assassinating.”

Arvid leaned forward as I leaned further back into my chair.

“You, young Percy, are so far from inconsequential, so far from the fringes of society. An outsider, you are no more. You are special. The New Foundation undoubtedly have something planned for you. What exactly, I don’t know. What I do know is that our King Nyx is a far cry from the ruthless, unstoppable killer he once was. His scheming and planning days are behind him. He is old. Near enough senile by all reports. Gone soft in his age and familial affection. I doubt he will win this coming war, but I’m not one to underestimate my enemies or allies. I have a proposition for you, Percy,” he told me, his smile morphing to something far more sinister.

I nodded my head, unable to speak, too much information swirling around my head, trying to make sense of what anyone could want from me. My new ability was a curse. Cold and dead. I wouldn’t use it to further any war or any agenda.

“I want to know what Lady Persephone Flores has planned for you, and in return, when convenient, I will help you return to your mistress,” he offered.

“Who?” I asked.

He sat back and sipped from his glass.

“The whispers are true, you don’t know either. How interesting to keep so much from you. Someone has been protecting you from destiny,” he quipped.

“No one can escape their fate,” I said quietly.

They weren’t my own words. They were my father’s. He would repeat them every time the ocean took someone. If the water wanted you, it would have you. No one can escape their fate.

I feared drowning.

“Fate is for those unable to curate their own path,” Arvid replied.

“Lady Persephone Flores, the last leader of the Flores coven, is here?” I asked.

“You’ve caught on. At first, I thought it was a coincidence that you shared a name with your coven leader. Until I realised, I could not trace your maternal lineage. Your mother was an enigma. Who was she? I couldn’t know. Witches love tradition. Names have power. I believe it’s time you met your namesake, assuming you agree to my proposition.”

“What if I don’t agree?” I asked.

“You are free to leave, but I assure you, you will not see your mistress again. They will not allow it.”

We were silent.

In the silence, the absence of Selene, and of our connection that had grown so slowly and had only recently begun to be something I could feel, left me empty. Like a dead space within me that would only grow the longer we were separated. There was no real choice.

I knew that Arvid was telling me the truth. He was deceitful, interested in only his own gain, but something made me trust his intentions. He wanted power, minus the immense risk and responsibility. Lord Paramount of the South sounded grand, but I doubted that, in effect, it would really mean much more than feeling superior to those Lords and Ladies of the southernHouses he grew up with. I might be able to find another way back to Selene, but I couldn’t refuse any opportunities that came my way.