Page 43 of Queen to the Sunless Court (Brides of Myth #2)

On the Blade’s Edge

Calliste

Hypnos’ words from their argument by Styx echoed in Calliste’s ears as she watched the sunlight shift across the floor, its hue deepening into a lush orange with the early evening tones.

In her chamber.

Alone.

Their afternoon had ended after the kiss. Theron didn’t say much afterward, his thoughts hidden in the shadows of his face.

She wondered if he already knew the truth about her husband, and—a chilling thought crept in—perhaps he’d rather enjoy their time together for a little longer before confronting her about it. She had no doubts about his affection… or his principles.

His divine patron was the goddess of justice, after all.

Do you know that I killed my husband? She wanted to ask him outright, but faltered, the fear of speaking it aloud and reducing everything they had to ashes wrapping an invisible cord around her throat, tightening each time she was about to confess.

She let him walk her back, only half-believing his excuse about needing to attend another meeting.

And there she was, four hours later, stewing in dread that poisoned the taste of her late afternoon meal. She took a long bath, scrubbed herself clean, and tried on the new robe Melitta had brought.

It was green; not the subdued, mossy green of her usual healer robe, but a vibrant, bright malachite. As she looked at herself in the bath-chamber mirror, it occurred to her that even a color she had always associated with calmness could feel the opposite.

It was an emboldening energy. She ran her hand over it, trying to absorb it. She looked herself in the eyes as she tied her hair back with a simple strip of leather and adjusted the silver clasps on her collarbones. “I killed him,” she whispered, letting it hover between her lips and the mirror.

She reached for the small brush and the tiny pot of eye paint Melitta had lent her and bent closer to the mirror to apply it, indulging in the luxury she’d never had.

Or at least trying to—she lacked the skill and the thin charcoal line on her lower lid looked nothing like what Melitta had drawn there for her first dinner with Theron.

Still, it served as a distraction from the uncertainty of what he might know about her marriage.

She stared at the uneven smudge: just a painted lie.

“On the night he branded me, I pushed him into the fire and left him to burn to death.” Her hand holding the brush dropped to her side, the line across her eyelid as obvious as the truth she held back from Theron.

Her courage faltered as she imagined her words turning everything between them bleak and hopeless.

“I can’t,” she whispered, setting down the brush. “I can’t tell him this .”

A knock on the door made her jump.

“Evening, Calliste,” Captain Lykos greeted her with his unapologetically charming smile, running a hand through his black hair. His brow lifted at her painted eye, then his gaze flickered to the unpainted one. “Theron sends me.”

Her breath caught. “Oh?”

He rubbed his chin, imposing yet casual in his black breastplate embossed with golden lions. “He asked me to accompany you to his study.”

She kept her voice neutral. “I don’t think I’ve seen it yet.”

“You haven’t,” he confirmed.

She took a steadying breath and then recalled what Theron said about sending Lykos to her to coax a confession out of him. Ah, this must be his ploy to test my theory. She smiled. “Please step in for a moment, Captain. I was preparing myself and I’m nearly done.”

“Of course.”

She returned to the bathroom and stared at her reflection, trying to decide whether to paint the other eye or rub out the line.

Captain Lykos leaned against the bathroom door frame, watching her in silence until his smoky baritone broke the quiet. “I’ve always wondered why beautiful women waste their time on that.”

She shot him a quick sideways glance. “It’s war paint, Captain.”

He chuckled. “You don’t need it, Calliste.”

“No?”

“Of course not. Theron will capitulate without it.” His voice was light and amused, with a hint of appreciation, almost as if he couldn’t help but flirt.

He crossed his arms over his chest, casually pushing back a strand of dark hair from his shoulder, his muscular arm flexing beneath the black sleeve of his tunic. “No need to improve perfection.”

That sealed it. She reached for the soft cloth to wipe away the paint, then she almost chuckled. “I wonder how many women have heard that from you?”

“Only those who should.” The corners of his lips lifted in a lazy, knowing way.

She could imagine women swooning at just the shadow of his smile, especially since it wasn’t all swagger.

She had seen enough of him during their journey to Anthemos and knew that beneath it all, he was much like Theron: an uncompromising, competent warrior, unflinching in the face of responsibilities.

If he flirted as well as he fought… She straightened up, meeting his eyes, knowing he didn’t expect this question from her and counting on the element of surprise, especially since they were alone. “Has Eumelia ever heard it from you?”

His eyes widened, his charming smile fading into sudden seriousness. “Eumelia?” he repeated, probably not realizing how softly he pronounced her name. “She doesn’t appreciate compliments like that.”

“Hmm.” Calliste finished wiping away the paint. “Makes perfect sense. She seems too serious for that. Probably not the right way to win her over.”

“No,” he murmured, straightening up.

She reached for the tinted balm, gently dabbing it on her lower lip. “I watched her this afternoon… Well, both of you. She’s like a rare, exotic bird; a delight to observe and listen to, but very guarded. Am I right? You likely know her better than me.”

Captain Lykos didn’t reply.

She put away the balm and turned to him. “Or maybe you wish you could get to know her better,” she said quietly. “But it’s impossible right now.”

His expression remained unreadable.

She didn’t need more than that—he didn’t try to evade or make a joke of the situation—because it was no laughing matter for him. “I’m ready, Captain. Lead the way.”

The corridor windows framed the burnished orange light of the sunset as it darkened to smoky violet with hints of navy, shining on the murals of the Sea Corridor and the sirens and mermen painted in azure and gold.

As they navigated unfamiliar flights of stairs and corridors, she realized that Theron’s quarters were secluded from the main compound. “Are we still in the palace?” she asked.

Captain Lykos slowed his pace. “Hmm? Oh, you mean it’s a long way? His study used to be his father’s observatory.”

“An observatory?”

“To watch the stars.” His mouth quirked.

“He’s a loner, in case you haven’t noticed.

Some chambers in the main royal wing are full of painful memories.

After those family tragedies, he struggled to find a comfortable place and eventually chose a set of chambers at the top of the palace, which his father had built to watch the stars.

Theron had them redecorated and, thankfully, took my advice on making them secure. ”

“It’s quite far from the prince.”

“When Kalias was well, Theron slept in the chamber next to him, except when he dozed off over paperwork in his study. But I’m also responsible for watching over Kalias,” Captain Lykos paused. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

He hesitated, giving her a cautious look. “Is it obvious? About me and… Eumelia?”

“When you sat beside each other, it was clear to me. But I have a more discerning eye than most.”

“Indulge me.” He wore the hopeful expression of someone seeking good news from an oracle. “I’m interested in your assessment, though I probably won’t hear anything new. What did you think?”

“Permission to speak honestly?” she quipped.

“Granted.”

“She’s aware of your attention but finds it irritating.”

He raked his fingers through his hair. “Hah. Well observed for an outsider. She hates me.”

“Why?” Calliste asked after a moment’s silence.

His face darkened. “We had a terrible start when she first arrived at the palace a year ago, and, well, things haven’t improved since.”

“A terrible start?”

“A disaster. But that’s a story for another time,” Captain Lykos waved his hand, sighed, and resumed his walk, taking another flight of stairs. “Can I ask you not to mention it to Theron?”

She kept a neutral face. “Why won’t you tell him?”

“Hmm, it would complicate…” He made a vague gesture. “Matters. He’s got enough to deal with.”

“He’s lucky to have such a steadfast friend.”

He didn’t comment. “Here we are.” He turned the corner and stopped in front of an ornately carved door bearing the emblem of Hesperis. He entered without knocking. “A certain healer you wanted to see, Theron.” He was back to his cheerful demeanour in a blink.

Theron’s study was spacious and sparsely furnished, flooded with the saffron light of the setting sun, making the amber tiles on the floor glow like embers. The entire wall opposite the door was a glazed window, divided by thin, sculpted columns, framing the vista of Anthemos and the sunset.

Theron turned away from it as they entered. “Make sure no one disturbs us, unless it’s about Kalias. I’ll take her back to her chamber myself.”

“Are you sure you’ll manage? She’s a handful.”

Calliste arched an eyebrow at the captain. “Am I?”

“You know you are.” He winked. “I should check you for weapons.”

Theron frowned. “I don’t think that’s necessary. Why would you—”

“He’s joking,” she said, holding back a chuckle.

“Huh.”

“See?” Lykos mock-saluted. “No sense of humor whatsoever.”

“On your merry way, Captain Pain-in-the-Neck,” Theron huffed.

“That’s not much of a pain.” Captain Lykos grinned. “Calliste, what’s worse than a pain in the neck?”

“Pain in the perineum,” she replied straight away, thinking she could get away with it, but as Theron’s eyes widened, she realized he knew the term.

Thankfully, Captain Lykos didn’t. “Huh?”