Page 23 of Queen to the Sunless Court (Brides of Myth #2)

Blossom

Calliste

The last thing Calliste saw before instinctively closing her eyes was Hypnos’ furious face hurtling toward them—and then a blast of divine energy hurled her to the floor, smothering her scream as purple light flared behind her eyelids.

Then: a crash, followed by a cry of agony that froze her blood.

Theron.

Her head spun as she swayed on all fours, disoriented, her ears ringing, the terrace floor under her trembling with aftershocks. She forced her eyes open, searching for Theron’s mangled body, panic surging. He can’t have survived — gods, no —

“Are you all right?”

She looked up.

Theron was beside her, unscathed, reaching out to help her up. In his other hand, he held a purple sword. His skin glowed with an unearthly light emanating from his amethyst pendant, a captivating blend of purple and swirling gold.

He helped her stand and steadied her. She touched his cheek, surprised. “Theron?”

“I’m fine, Calliste.” Even his voice seemed even more resonant, as if it had gained an extra depth.

Hypnos was struggling to his feet, unsteady, his gaze unfocused, face twisted in pain.

His poppy crown was askew, with scarlet petals scattered on the floor in front of him like drops of blood.

The top section of his left wing was bent at an odd angle, with glistening gold liquid seeping from the fracture, which must have been ichor—or immortal blood.

Thanatos watched it with a stony expression, while Hades’ gaze was fixed on Theron.

Behind them, leaning against the balustrade, Morpheus wore the satisfied look of someone proven right.

Hades glanced over his shoulder at him with a raised brow. “Explain.”

Morpheus bowed deeply. “The Amyntasides royal line, like all lines of immortal descent, has ancient origins. Although King Theron is a mortal, he’s under immortal patronage. This means, like Calliste, he can access divine powers—at least here, in our realm.”

Hypnos’ head snapped up, his eyes narrowing at Theron.

Theron put his arm around Calliste’s waist as he listened to Morpheus. Then he turned his hand palm up, watching the purple light coiling inside. “I wasn’t aware my line had a divine patron.”

“It was once favored and blessed by a powerful goddess who predates the Olympians. You still carry her symbol on your chest.”

Calliste looked at Theron’s breastplate: two roaring lions facing each other, encircled by a laurel wreath.

Theron shook his head. “Lions and laurels?”

“Your house’s crest is symmetrical,” Morpheus said, stepping closer and tracing lines across the breastplate.

“Their tails entwine in the middle and point downward, forming a base. The symbol you’re looking for is scales,” he paused.

“It’s no surprise she gave you a sword when you needed it—because the sword is her symbol, too.

You possess every quality to please her: you’re upright, honest, and just. You honor and uphold both mortal and divine laws—”

“What a lie. He’s a blasphemer,” Hypnos hissed from the other end of the terrace, bracing himself against the wall as he rose with effort. “An irreverent, mortal blasphemer coveting what’s mine .”

The fury that suddenly struck her—at his slanders and entitlement—seethed like a crazed flame, all-consuming.

Before she knew it, she’d disentangled herself from Theron’s embrace and stomped to Hypnos, her energy crackling about her, her hand gripping something.

When she looked, it was her medicinal knife, or a reflection of it—because her actual knife was still in the sheath strapped to her thigh.

The one in her hand was woven from Epione’s energy, and she clutched it tighter as she stormed toward him.

And the strangest thing was that he flinched away when she faced him, raising it to his throat.

An empty threat, she knew, because she only had healing powers, but it sufficed.

“You will stop slandering my king,” she said in a hollow, dangerous voice.

“You will stop insinuating yourself in our dreams and no longer twist them like you have.” She could feel her hair lifting, as if on a current of air of her incandescent fury.

She moved her face closer to him, so her glare lanced all the way to his soul.

“And instead of treating me like your subject, you’ll show me the respect I deserve as a priestess of Epione and keep in mind, always, eternally , that I am my own sanctuary.

Will you remember, or do you need to write it down? ”

He stared at her, his lips parted.

Before he’d even found words, she swiped her knife and drove it into his broken wing.

“Ah!” He fell to his knees, but the knife disintegrated into a rush of healing energy.

She was still breathless from her outburst, barely recognizing herself, but her anger faltered as she watched the workings of her energy on Hypnos’ wing.

Where it had been fractured, the energy formed a phantom shape of healthy bones and tendons, and then, in a blaze of emerald light, it merged with it.

Hypnos gave a small moan, watching his wing, then tentatively stretched it.

Calliste sensed someone behind her and turned her head to see Theron, and beside him, Hades.

Theron’s eyes blazed with an amethyst glow as he spoke, his voice deep and approving, with a hint of satisfaction. “Are you done with him?” Briefly, he fixed Hypnos with a distasteful glare.

“Yes,” she replied. “We’re done here.”

Hades stepped forward, his jaw tight as he addressed the god of dreams. “Go to the throne room and wait for me there. We need to have a chat about obedience, court conduct, and laws of hospitality. This conversation was overdue anyway.”

Hypnos lifted his chin in defiance, but clearly thought better of talking back, because no word slipped from his mouth as he limped out of the room without looking at anyone. Only when the door shut behind him did Calliste exhale, leaning into Theron.

He held her tight, looking at her with a searing appreciation in his gaze before addressing Morpheus. “I hate to say it, but he’s right in some respects. I might not have been as devoted as I should have. I don’t know if my goddess would approve.”

“Your goddess doesn’t demand blind loyalty. You may not be the most devout, but you exceed her expectations in every other regard. This is why she protects you.”

“So who is my patron goddess?” he asked.

“I gave you all the clues, Majesty.”

“Right. Scales and sword,” Theron mused. “Honoring law. Justice.” His eyes widened. “Divine Themis? Is she my patron goddess?”

“Indeed,” Morpheus bowed. “You are favored as the mortal hand of one of the wisest and most influential Titanesses, Majesty. Themis.”

Theron sheathed his sword and looked at his hands, still enveloped in a purple glow, and Calliste could see understanding settling deep within his bones.

She recalled the first time she’d felt the energy of her goddess coursing through her and suddenly laughed.

Theron cast her a surprised look.

“Can you feel it?” she asked, exhilarated. “Your goddess’s power?”

He met her gaze and nodded. “Yes. It’s... amazing.”

“Isn’t it?” She couldn’t stop smiling, watching his pendant and recalling the aura of power about him. She remembered the first time she’d seen him, bursting into her temple with his purple cloak swirling behind him like wildfire. “Now I know why I could always sense that power in you.”

His face slowly broke into a smile, his brow arching. “Is that what attracted you?”

Despite herself, she blushed, surprised that he was flirting with her in front of immortals. Yet she couldn’t help herself. “That, too.”

The purple glow reflected in his eyes, lending him an appearance of an immortal, and, once again, his eyes said more than his mouth. But then he sobered, releasing her.

Hades gave Theron an approving nod. “Themis is associated with my domain as well. My judges rely on her for delivering just sentences, and so do I. This is such an excellent turn of events, as it means you can both descend to the Roots and bring back the answers.”

“Oh, of course,” Calliste said, still beaming. “So he can use his powers there, too?”

“In moderation, because his powers are offensive, but yes. Morpheus will accompany you in his shadowy form. It seems you’ve just gained a powerful protector, Calliste.

” Hades’ eyes flicked to Theron’s sword.

“Themis is a Titaness, so her powers align well with Erebus. So,” he met Theron’s gaze, “will you go?”

Theron smiled. “My father had a saying he repeated to me many times when I was young. In the court of law or in love, to decide is to pick one thread out of many and cut off the rest. Allow that choice to be what the Fates whisper in your heart, and do not hesitate to bring down your blade. ”

“Your father was a wise man,” Hades said.

“He was. And I came here for answers.”

She admired Theron’s ease—he was in an otherworldly realm, among the most fearsome of gods, yet he carried himself calmly as always, standing tall.

Morpheus tapped his finger against his lips. “Why not use your portal, Hades? It’s faster, and they could descend to the Roots as they are now. You could give them pendants for a safe return.”

Hades paused and sighed. “If they descend in bodily form, the risk is higher if she attacks.”

“I’ll guide them, but if Tempest is planning a trap or confrontation, they should be able to rescue themselves without my help. It’s more practical and safer this way.”

“Hmmm, you might be right,” Hades agreed, nodding slowly and gesturing for them to follow.

They left the library, and the ruler of the Underworld led them down golden corridors that seemed to descend deeper and deeper until he stopped in front of a heavy wooden door, which slowly opened to reveal a spacious, barren room.

The wall opposite the door was studded with crystals, forming a rectangular pattern the height of a man.

“This is what I call a secret passage to the darkest regions of my realm, mainly Tartarus, but it can be used for any location, including the Roots.” Hades turned his palm upward, his lips moving silently.

Moments later, the moonstones lit up, one by one, with threads of light thickening until they formed what appeared to be a mirror, which then darkened to reveal a distant, fuzzy landscape.

“This is the outskirts of the Roots. You might need to walk some distance, as I can’t open a portal any closer.

” Hades kept his palm up. White flame leapt up from it, flashing bright and smelling like salt.

When it dimmed, two pendants with thin, white stones on silver chains shone in his hand.

“Moonstone pendants,” he explained. “Cut from one of the moonstones set in this wall. They are thin enough to be snapped in half, and that’s what you need to do to return here.

Wear them on your body—if you take them off, they won’t transport you back. ”

Theron lifted a necklace and placed it around Calliste’s neck before putting one on himself.

Calliste weighed her moonstone in her hand, her breath catching. “Can’t we take one for the queen to bring her back here?”

“If only it were that simple,” Hades muttered. “It won’t work on a Shade. Also, the queen must follow the laws of the Underworld like everyone else. I cannot summon her to my palace because it’s on the other shore of Styx, and she wasn't allowed to cross it.”

“Understood.” Theron glanced at her. “Ready?”

She couldn’t help the flutter in her chest as he took her hand and placed it on his forearm. “Yes,” she replied.

“Come.”

She glanced up at him again, and for a moment, everything blurred; his face was out of focus as he led her down the aisle lit with saffron brilliance.

Come, my fearless queen.

Her breath caught.

“Calliste?”

She blinked up at Theron, meeting his perplexed gaze just as something elusive tugged at her memory to come into sudden, sharp clarity.

Usually, the dreams that come to you on the eve of your vow-taking may well come from the Underworld, sent by Morpheus himself. Leontia’s voice from that fateful morning echoed in her head.

Her eyes snapped to Morpheus. Of course. How could I forget? He was the one Leontia was talking about. He must have sent me this vision… so he knows if it was true.

Morpheus arched his brow at her sudden scrutiny.

But I cannot ask him now. “I’m fine,” she said, her heart racing. “Let’s unravel that mystery.”