Page 1 of Queen to the Sunless Court (Brides of Myth #2)

Awaiting Thanatos

Theron

Theron’s pulse blasted in his ears.

Scarlet streaked his vision with each blink.

Calliste’s blood.

On the floor.

On his hands.

Images from the previous hour flashed behind his eyelids: split, sharp, sinister.

An otherworldly voice booming in his ear at dawn. Go and wake Calliste. Now!

Rushing to Calliste to find her next to his still-asleep son, a crimson bloom spreading on the ashen skin of her chest.

His court physician bursting in, freezing, then demanding two of his best disciples to be summoned at once .

Erratic breaths—

Swords slapping against thighs—

Feet pounding in the corridor as his sentinels carried the stretchers with Calliste to her room.

She’d seemed nearly lifeless as he laid her down on the bed and plucked the knife from her hand, swirling around as two disciples of Asklepios hurried in, carrying carved coffers.

“If you don’t save her…” he’d addressed his court physician.

But Panakeios hadn’t been listening, shedding his ornate tunic to reveal a plain one beneath while snapping short, precise commands at his evidently adept assistants.

He’d spared Theron only a brief, disapproving glance, as if surprised that he was still there, in his professional, sacred space. “Please leave,” he’d drawled.

Theron had almost growled at him, but seeing how the trio set up a table with dressings, jars and surgical utensils, he’d felt beyond useless, and as sure as the pits of Tartarus it had tested him beyond endurance to sit there while she bled.

So he’d marched out.

Now his mind spun in endless, mindless circles, much like the ones he traced in front of her door, trapped in a void bristling with nightmares.

Every now and again he’d pause.

Listen.

Fixate on the sturdy wood separating him from her, carved with gleeful dolphins gliding over gilded waves.

If she dies…

His heart seized every time he thought about it. He braced his hands against the door’s carved, rolling waves, while his own thoughts surged and crashed against the rocky shore of helplessness.

Calliste’s face from the night before haunted him: serene, flushed, framed by snowy jasmine and flickering candlelight, her body soft and tempting against his, her lips just like he’d imagined them: sweet and determined.

Why didn’t I go further? She’d have welcomed it.

She told me as much. Even if she hadn’t, the want in her eyes was unmistakable.

Now he regretted his restraint, wishing he hadn’t let propriety get in the way of his desire.

If I’d brought her to my chamber instead, she wouldn’t be fighting for her life now.

She’d be safe with me… and his thoughts stopped there.

Kalias. What would have happened to Kalias if she hadn’t gone to sit by him last night?

He stifled a groan and turned away. Another step, and he collided with Lykos.

His best friend was like a calm mountain, dressed in his captain’s attire, his dark-blue eyes narrowed and watchful.

Theron stared at him blankly before registering Xanthos two steps away in his official clothes, a couple of scrolls under his arm. He refocused on Lykos. “What?”

“You should eat something,” his friend said in an undertone. “The servants can bring it here—”

“No.”

“Theron, you’ve been pacing here for long enough now. Go and eat.”

“No.”

“I’ll stand in for you and call you when they come out.”

“No.”

Lykos swore under his breath.

Theron rubbed his chest as the invisible iron band of anxiety tightened around it. “She’s fighting for her life. Because of me. If she dies—”

“She won’t,” Lykos cut in.

“Did you see that wound?”

“That’s what I need to discuss with you.”

Theron concentrated, noticing the peculiar angle of the sunlight streaming through the corridor windows, making it seem like early noon… though it couldn’t be. “Go on.”

“Chrysantos swears last night was as quiet as any other. The window grilles are untouched. There’s no sign that anyone tried to break in from outside.

Not that it’s possible—you know how secure Kalias’ chamber is.

I couldn’t find any evidence of Calliste struggling or defending herself: no marks on the furniture, nothing out of place.

Gaiane says that even the toys on the floor are exactly where they were before.

So there’s absolutely no chance that anyone from the palace came in to attack her. ”

Theron reached for Calliste’s knife, tucked behind his belt. “She had it in her hand, but there’s no blood on it.”

Lykos frowned. “You gave it back to her? I thought we agreed that no one’s allowed to carry weapons around Kalias, except—”

“A great moment to make me feel guilty, Lykos.”

“That’s not what I meant, though that’s a part of it. So you’re saying that she drew it, but didn’t use it?”

Theron massaged his temple. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“No. Given her injuries, she should have been calling for help, or making some noise while defending herself, but Chrysantos swears on his life that there was nothing.”

Theron ran his hand through his hair, trying to piece it all together—and failing. He glanced at Xanthos. “I know I’m late for the Assembly, but—”

“Late?” Xanthos’ brow shot up as he stepped closer. “The morning session is over.”

“What? Damn, what time is it?”

“Noon.”

Theron stared again at the angle of the sunlight.

“Officially, you’re unwell, so don’t bother turning up today,” Xanthos continued. “But I doubt anyone fell for my explanation.”

“What do you mean?”

“I would never even consider informing the Assembly about this morning’s events, of course.

The secrecy of this incident has been my priority, too.

However, they do know that you chose to spend last evening with a woman from your court instead of attending the official function.

Now you are absent from the morning session.

” He shrugged. “You can hardly blame them for jumping to obvious conclusions.”

Theron bristled. “I can name a place where they can shove their obvious conclusions.”

“No need. Just keep it in mind. My concern is that your son’s healer was gravely injured in what’s supposed to be the safest area of the palace, and there’s no explanation for it.” Xanthos frowned at Lykos. “Aren’t you going to open an official investigation?”

“Xanthos, damn it,” Lykos snapped. “Who am I to investigate—Chrysantos?”

“That depends on how thoroughly you’ve interrogated him.”

“I talked to him. I’m not interrogating one of my most trusted warriors.”

“He should be under temporary arrest,” Xanthos said coolly.

“He won’t leave the palace until Calliste wakes up and tells us what happened.” Lykos shot him a warning look. “He gave me his word that he wouldn’t, so I’m not placing him under arrest.”

“We shouldn’t dismiss anything until she confirms he’s innocent.”

“Xanthos.” Lykos stepped closer to him, his jaw ticking. “I don’t barge into your office and tell you how to organize your parchments, so do me a favor—”

“That’s enough.” Theron let out a deep breath. “Xanthos, what’s come over you? You know Chrysantos, damn it.”

“I do.” His advisor cast him an icy look. “But I’m also trying to make sense of this situation, and if Chrysantos isn’t responsible for it, I’m left without answers. I don’t like having no answers.”

Lykos scowled. “You’ll have to wait for Calliste to explain what happened, just like the rest of us.”

Theron closed his eyes as a thought made it through the swirling of his mind.

“You’re both forgetting that Calliste is linked to the immortals.

” He felt ridiculous saying it aloud, but he still remembered the dark voice that had roused him this morning, urging and guiding him to wake Calliste.

It must have belonged to a god. “She’s channeling divine power to heal Kalias.

If it somehow turned against her…” Anxiety tightened in his chest again.

“Then this is also my fault.” He weighed his next words with care.

“You know where I stand with her. Judge me if you will, but it won’t change anything.

And it means that I won’t leave this spot until I know she’s safe. ”