Page 64 of Queen to the Sunless Court (Brides of Myth #2)

The Last Secrets

Theron

A few days later, just as dawn splintered the sky, they were about to set off.

The days leading up to their journey had been peculiar. Theron couldn’t stop himself from rushing to Kalias’ chamber each morning, gripped by the fear that he might not wake up.

But Kalias would yawn, squirm, and curl under his blanket, only his bare foot sticking out, bargaining with him to let him sleep for a little longer.

He would tickle his foot to hear him squeak and hide it quickly, joy swelling in his chest as his heart sang.

At the same time, it bled, knowing that just a few chambers away, Calliste was likely still asleep. She slept through days and nights, as if it was her only comfort.

I’d rather be dead.

The shock and grief that had erupted from her at the beginning weren’t half as heartbreaking as their last conversation, where he could plainly see the devastation her thirty silent days had wrought.

He feared that the Calliste he knew—his wild nymph, his proud match—was gone, slain by Erebus in the depths of the Underworld, leaving behind only a shell of a woman in an impenetrable armor of silence.

That silence lodged like an icy splinter in his heart.

That she wouldn’t allow him close or let him hold her felt like a punch to his gut.

During that harrowing conversation, he had to force himself to stay still and respect the distance she wanted to keep, despite his desperation to crawl into her bed, take her in his arms and soothe that wound Erebus had left.

He glanced around his private courtyard, mentally mapping out a route that would lead them through the back of the palace to a less-traveled road out of Anthemos.

Just him, Calliste, and his trusted company: Argyros, Chrysantos, and Drakon.

They planned to meet Kassandros in Aganeeios, whose last report confirmed that he’d found who Theron wanted him to find.

But this time, they wouldn’t rush; it would be a quiet, anonymous journey.

Lykos was making rounds, talking to the sentinels, then climbed the stairs to the gallery, still unhappy with the arrangements. “I don’t like that you’re leaving me behind. Make sure you stay out of trouble.”

“Make sure Kalias stays out of trouble,” Theron replied, smiling as he watched his son chat with Calliste, Melitta and Gaiane.

“I’d rather make sure you do.”

“There is no one else I would trust with Kalias’ safety. As you know.”

Lykos sighed. “Are the messengers ready to keep me updated?”

“All the way to Aganeeios. We’re retracing our original route.”

“Except for Petrakelis Passage, I hope.”

Theron snorted. “I’m not going there again.” His eyes flickered to Calliste. She wore a tunic as white as her pinned-up hair, smiling at Kalias. She always seemed to have a smile for him.

“He’s grown fond of her, and it looks like it’s mutual,” said Lykos.

“Very mutual. He’s drawn to her. It was difficult to explain to him that she might not be coming back.”

“Wait, what?” His friend narrowed his eyes. “How is that even possible? You didn’t ask her to stay?”

“No.”

“Why in the pits of Tartarus didn’t you? ”

Theron exhaled. “Because that would be imposing what I want on her, and she needs to make her own decision. Besides, I once heard her say that she is her own sanctuary, and given that I have already invaded her actual sanctuary once before—”

“You’re an idiot. Well, it’s a good thing that at least one of us asked her.”

“Who? You? When?”

“When she first woke up,” Lykos muttered. “And if you asked her, she’d know she has other options. I bet you overdid it and she mistook you holding back for her sake as keeping her at arm’s length and abandoning her.”

“I didn’t overdo anything, damn it,” he snapped. “Look, I’d beg her kneeling on broken glass if I necessary—”

“Ooh, I would watch that spectacle.”

Theron lifted his brow. “You think I wouldn’t?

” His gaze darted across the courtyard again, drawn to her radiant face.

“But if I forced her to stay here, by any means, she would be conflicted. That’s why I suggested the trip to Mount Hellecon.

It’s been her home and her grounding place for so many years.

A woman she considers her mother lives there.

She needs to revisit it and see for herself that that is now her past, and hopefully decide that her future lies… here.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Lykos muttered, his face darkening. “What will you do? Let her go and return to... Eumelia?”

“Eumelia?” Theron blinked before remembering the conversation with Calliste, which felt like it was from another life.

How she had noticed what he had missed. Perfect timing, he thought, not without humor, I’m heading out now, so he has only about a quarter of an hour to rage at me.

At most. “You bring up Eumelia again. Why?”

“I told you,” Lykos’ eyes were flinty. “Decency.”

“We like to hold on to our secrets, don’t we? You certainly never told me.”

“What?” Lykos gave him a confused look.

“About you and Eumelia.”

“I didn’t tell you what about me and Eumelia?” Lykos played for time, but the alarm in his eyes was unmistakable.

Leaning against the wall, Theron turned to his friend, crossing his arms. “Thank all the gods that Calliste noticed the situation, because I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“She told you? Damn it.” Lykos’ face hardened. “You didn’t need to know that.”

Theron took a deep breath. “On the contrary. If I’d known about this development as it happened , I’d have thought of a different way to deter the Houses from trying to set me up with their daughters.”

Lykos glared at him, a deep frown carved into his forehead. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“That my courting Eumelia was a charade, created for our mutual benefit, and it worked perfectly, since neither of us have feelings for each other.”

“A—a what?” his friend stammered, staring.

“A charade,” Theron explained, “is an act maintained purely for appearances—”

“I wasn’t asking for the definition,” Lykos growled. “I know what a charade is, but how was your courting her… that ?”

Theron sighed. “I appreciated her from the day she started playing for me. We often talked until late night—mostly about music and unimportant things, but with time, she opened up to me. She’s always been respectful and not once crossed any lines, which was exactly what I needed at the time.

That’s how we became friends, Lykos. One day, as I was grumbling about unwanted attention from women I wasn’t interested in, and she complained about rich old men trying to win her over with jewelry she was forced to send back…

we realized that the answer to our problems might be right in front of us. ”

“But...” Lykos turned pale, his eyes flashing. “Couldn’t you have said something to me?”

“Damn it, Lykos,” he snapped. “ You were among the men I tried to protect her from.”

“What? Why?”

“What do you mean, why? She’s a good girl, and you didn’t need another trophy for your collection.”

“Damn it.” Lykos lunged at him, grabbing his robe and pinning him against the wall.

“What if I told you that I got rid of my last trophy the day I met Eumelia and haven’t been with anyone since—and it’s been the longest year of my life?

” A flame of desperation burned in his eyes.

“What if I told you I had been trying to get closer to her until it became clear you were courting her, and I had to convince myself it was for the best, because I couldn’t offer her anything better anyway, even though, by that point, I was doomed because she had ruined all other women for me?

” He took a deep breath. “What if I told you that from the day I met her, I never thought of her as anything but the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with?”

Speechless, Theron blinked at the bleak rage in Lykos’ eyes, realizing how wrong he’d been about him, and who he’d proved to be—beside the most faithful friend. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“How?” Lykos growled. “You can’t. She hates me, Theron, hated me from the day we met, and I can’t blame her. It was easier that way because I didn’t need to hope again.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Theron repeated. “When I come back. You have my word.”

“Gods.” Lykos released him and roughly scrubbed his face, his eyes still bewildered. “So, you’re saying that all those nights I tossed and turned in bed while she stayed late in your office—it was all just a show? Nothing happened?”

“I’ve never touched her, Lykos, or even thought about it. She’s...” He bit back the words he meant to say, but Lykos’ desperate glare pushed him to continue. “She’s been hurt in the past, Lykos. Music is all she has—”

“Hurt,” Lykos spat, his stare as dark as a midnight forest, bristling with wolves, their teeth and claws bared. “ Who hurt her ?”

“Dad!” Kalias called from below. “Can I ride Rebel?”

“No!” Theron and Lykos yelled in unison, hurrying down the stairs, only to find Kalias sitting on the bench in the courtyard, swinging his legs with a grin, while Calliste giggled behind her hand, much like the sentinels, Melitta, and Gaiane.

“You were taking so long with Uncle Lykos,” Kalias said. “And Calliste is waiting for you.”

“You’re right, we’ve taken too long.” Theron clapped Lykos on the back. “We’ll come back to this and set things straight.”

His friend nodded, though his gaze remained dark and distant.

At least it’s settled for now. There’s nothing more I can do at the moment. He looked at Calliste and his son, sitting beside each other, at ease. “Time to say goodbye.”

Her smile faded. She hugged Kalias. “One day, you’ll be a great king.”

“Because I know how to solve problems?” he asked.

She laughed. “Because of who you are. But yes, you certainly know that too.” She stood, adjusted her bag, hugged Gaiane and Melitta, then climbed onto the block next to Rebel, settling into the saddle extension.

Theron knelt beside his son to kiss him goodbye. “Behave. Uncle Lykos’ word is final while I’m away.”

Kalias grinned, then wrapped his arms around him. “Dad?” he whispered. “Please bring Calliste back.”

His throat tightened. “I’ll do my best.”