Page 40 of Queen to the Sunless Court (Brides of Myth #2)

On the Right Path

Theron

Theron shaded his eyes from the sun’s glare as his vision gradually returned, dark shapes leaking in slowly, forming the familiar colonnade spanning the lush, vibrant garden.

Ivy leaves twisted around the columns, fluttering in the breeze and casting a fragrant shade.

Over the years, they had thickened, obscuring the marble beneath.

Meticulously manicured emerald shrubs glittered in the sunlight, forming a curving wall that encompassed part of the garden.

Creamy roses bloomed on dark-green bushes, and the raked, winding white gravel paths were immaculate and inviting.

“Theron, this is... stunning,” Calliste breathed beside him.

“It is,” he exhaled, still blinking. While he could still recognize its original design and focal points, someone’s masterful hands had transformed it, nurturing it to burgeon and flourish into a royal jewel. I wouldn’t be ashamed to invite Hades here for a chat.

Lykos caught up with him, standing beside him with a stony expression as Eumelia’s silver music washed over them in lulling waves.

“What in the pits of Tartarus is going on, Lykos? I dismissed the gardeners years ago. Was it you?”

Lykos nodded.

Theron stared at his friend. “You’ve been paying the gardeners to maintain this place for the last seven years ?”

“No,” Lykos finally replied, reluctantly. “I re-employed them about a year ago.” He grinned. “I guess it’s a good use of my extravagant pay, questioned by Kassandros every month.” His laugh seemed forced.

Calliste stood motionless. “This is beyond beautiful,” she whispered. “I’m not surprised that Eumelia practices here.”

Lykos gave her an odd look, but nodded.

Still dazed, Theron took a slow step forward.

“Are you fine?” Calliste asked softly.

“Yes. Just taking it in.” He cleared his throat.

“It looks different from what I remember.” He gazed at the white marble path leading to the colonnade at the front of the garden and the viewing deck with its stunning vista of the sea, but in the end, it was Eumelia’s music that drew him to the virtuoso herself.

She sat on one of the carved marble benches arranged in a semi-circle around the fountain.

Her profile was tilted down at the lyre in her hands, her silvery-graphite robe with rosy-gold accents radiant in the sunlight, framed by the cobalt-blue sky, fluttering ivy cascading down the snowy columns, and the distant sea sparkling with gold.

She hadn’t noticed them yet, lost in her music—as always.

Theron glanced at Lykos. “And… Amatheia’s sculpture?”

“It’s there,” Lykos pointed to the sinuous wall of the hedge maze curving at the garden’s edge. “In the center.”

“Solon said he placed it prominently here.”

“That he did.” Lykos shrugged, nodding at the carved fountain.

“Right on the top of that fountain, but I ordered it to be moved out of sight.” He sighed before continuing.

“Presumptuous of me, perhaps, but this garden has a history. I remember us playing hide and seek and chasing each other here, Theron. Your parents loved this place. Your wife was a part of it… but not everything.” He didn’t add anything more.

Theron stared at his friend, his throat tight.

“This was so thoughtful of you, Captain,” Calliste said what he couldn’t.

Lykos’ eyes were fixed on the ground, his black hair swaying gently in the breeze. “This place deserved much better than to be abandoned.”

Theron finally snapped out of his bewilderment and tugged at Calliste’s hand. “Let’s talk to Eumelia. Maybe we can coax her into playing for us while we brave that maze.”

Lykos followed silently behind them.

Eumelia stopped as soon as she noticed them, her eyes widening. She rose and curtsied; her carefully arranged black curls gleamed in the sunlight as she bowed. “Majesty. Lady Calliste. I didn’t expect you here…” Then she flushed. “I mean, I know this is your garden, Majesty, but…”

He tilted his head at her. “I didn’t expect you here, either. You never told me this is where you practice.”

A gentle flush swept over her cheeks. “I was told that this garden doesn’t hold the best memories for you.”

No, but it feels like that is going to change. He smiled at her. “I don’t mind if you practice here. And this piece sounds even better in the open space. Could you play it again while we wander here?”

Beside him, Calliste clasped her hands together. “Please, Eumelia. We love this tune.”

Her face brightened, but then her gaze flickered to silent Lykos and her expression instantly snapped into a polite mask. “Of course.” She sat at the bench again, her fingers gliding over the strings to effortlessly unleash the same wistful melody.

Theron listened for a moment, then pulled at Calliste’s hand.

Together, they walked to the maze’s entrance, where a rose-covered trellis marked the way to a small square. In the center, against the wall of greenery, stood a sculpture of a woman with two archways on either side of her leading into the maze.

He was about to pass it and follow the left path, which he remembered led to the heart of the maze, when Calliste stopped him, tugging at his hand.

“Theron, look.” She glanced up at the sculpture.

He followed her gaze; he had seen this sculpture so many times that he’d blocked its significance from his mind.

Now that he looked closely, the familiar symbols caught his attention.

It wasn’t just a woman, but a goddess carved in marble.

She gripped the pommel of her sword as if about to draw it from the scabbard.

In her other hand, she held the scales, already lifting it, the chain taut, with the pans perfectly aligned.

Themis. She’s been here all along.

“Theron?” Calliste asked, probably worried about his sudden stillness.

He shook his head, finally tearing his gaze away from the sculpture and the image of his father, seated in his office with papers before him.

“That saying… You know, my father’s saying I mentioned to Hades.

” He touched the scales, reciting from a distant place within his soul.

“ 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. It feels like he was speaking about this sculpture.”

Her eyes widened as she glanced at Themis again. “Oh, so this is the moment before making the decision?”

“Yes,” he replied, still amazed at how sharply and clearly everything stood out in his mind. “This is Themis, about to inspire the decision.”

“At the entrance to the maze,” she laughed.

“I already know the path, Calliste.”

“How do you know if anything has changed in the years you haven’t been here?”

He paused. “I don’t. Which way do you want to go?”

She looked both ways. “Let’s see if we can reach the center by following what you remember.”

They walked down the white gravel path between the high walls of lush greenery, passing one side entrance, then the other. He headed for the third, just about to come into view.

“Interesting,” Calliste said suddenly. “On the trellis we just passed, the roses were red, but the other trellises have white roses.”

He paused, glancing back and then ahead at the entrance he intended to take, noticing white roses winding around it. “Huh,” he thought back to his childhood years. “You’re right. I don’t remember that.”

“If the last time you were here was years ago, then you wouldn’t. But if this is part of the original design, wouldn’t they plan different colored roses as markers?”

“They would,” he said slowly, returning to the entrance marked with red roses.

“Can you tell me your father’s saying again?”

He repeated it.

“Let the choice be what the Fates whisper in your heart,” she said. “Heart, Theron.”

“Red for heart? Isn’t that… too obvious?”

Her smile was bright and delighted. “Love is always obvious.”

Why do I feel lighter when you smile at me, Calliste?

They continued along the path, following the red roses marking the entrances to the inner parts of the maze.

He held her hand, basking in her presence, the sunshine, and the scent of roses—more intense in the shadows.

Eumelia’s tune still lingered in the air, even though the music was fainter.

They navigated the paths until they rounded the last corner, where Calliste stopped abruptly, sucking in a surprised breath at a dark, ominous shadow on the path before them.

He pulled her close. “It looks like the shadow of her statue.”

“Oh.” She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. “Of course. After what I’ve seen in the Underworld, this makes me jumpy.”

He thought about her facing all the creatures Eris had lured into the Roots, alone, and helpless anger surged through him. “I couldn’t protect you then, but from now on, I will.”

She lowered her eyes to his amethyst pendant and nodded.

They rounded the last corner and stopped in front of Amatheia’s statue, watching it in silence.

Solon must have spared no expense. The statue’s lifelike quality was unsettling, capturing something beyond mere likeness.

Even though Amatheia’s statue wore all the regalia of a young queen—a flowing, voluminous robe adorned with elaborate gemstone pins, her hair braided into a crown beneath a real tiara—sadness haunted her features.

Her hands, full of roses, rested just above her slightly bulging belly, hinting at her forthcoming motherhood; petals and blooms drifted downwards to settle at her feet.

“Has she always looked this sad?” Calliste left his side and stepped closer to the sculpture, her eyes fixed on Amatheia’s face.

“Yes,” he replied hoarsely. This is the testament of my neglect.

She turned back to him, her eyes wide before her expression softened—but this did nothing to remove the bitter taste in his mouth.

It was a snapshot of Amatheia when she was still alive and married to him, a record he hadn’t known about, but true and accurate, presented to the woman he cherished like an accusation.

His mouth set, he climbed onto the stone bench by the statue’s plinth and examined the carved roses, tracing some with his finger until he found one that looked slightly different. He carefully lifted the marble top, surprised by how skillfully it was designed to look like an actual flower.

The golden coin inside glinted in the sunlight. He held his breath, recognizing it in an instant, then carefully removed it, closed the top and jumped down to Calliste. “This is it,” he said, handing it to her.

She examined the coin, turning it in her fingers and nodding slowly.

“Oh, Theron. Will you believe that this is from the same Temple that sends us our coins? I’d recognize this design anywhere.

The coins I carry with me are the same, just in silver.

” She returned it to him, casting a final glance at the sculpture before turning away.

Guided by Eumelia’s music, still playing from behind the walls of the maze, they found their way back to the exit in silence. The coin was secure in a small pocket on his belt, yet it felt much heavier than it was.

“It must have been a shock for you to see her like this,” Theron said.

Calliste paused and looked up at him. “Like what?”

“Sick at heart.”

Her glance was part surprise, part contemplation. Then she replied, “But I already knew about it—it didn’t come as a shock. What are you worried about?”

He didn’t reply right away. Part of him didn’t want to show vulnerability, but another part was ready to take the risk, knowing she wouldn’t use his weakness against him, even if he admitted she was his weakness.

As they emerged from the maze onto the small square with the statue of Themis, he finally said, “Your judgment. That’s what I’m worried about. ”

Her eyes widened, then she halted and glanced up at Themis, thoughtful.

He braced himself.

“Most of the statues of Themis I’ve seen wear a blindfold,” she said while looking at the sculpture, “but this one doesn’t.

It makes sense to me, now that I know your father’s saying.

I think that in your grief after losing them, and every other circumstance twisted around you at the time, you lost sight of yourself.

When pressured into marriage, you decided with your head, sacrificing your heart for your kingdom. ”

His lungs felt so tight that he wasn’t sure if he could breathe again.

“I do not dismiss what she went through. It was unfair to both of you, but Theron, you’ve learned your lesson, came here to make amends, and you’re doing your best. If you fear my judgment,” she continued, unaware of his turmoil, “know that my heart has already passed it, and it’s not likely to change. I’d trust you with my life.”

He watched her, his breath caught in his chest until he slowly exhaled. You are one of a kind, and I no longer care about what you did in the past. Taking her hand again, he led her out of the maze, too dazed to speak . But would you trust me with your future?