Page 9 of Queen to the Sunless Court (Brides of Myth #2)

Courted By Dream

Calliste

Morpheus seemed to be lost in thought as he guided her through the golden corridors of Hades’ court.

“Quiet in here,” she observed.

“It’s because Persephone is away.” He cast her a sideways glance. “When she goes to her mother’s court, all her kokythiai leave with her.”

“ Kokythiai ?”

“The daughters of River Cocytus and the water nymphs of the Underworld. Persephone’s retinue.

A chirpy lot.” He smiled, as if at a private joke.

“Hades has never had many courtiers, so his palace becomes quiet when Persephone is away.” He halted in front of an ornate golden door and pushed it open, gesturing for her to come in.

The first thing she noticed was a wide, tall window, divided by thin columns, framing a view that pulled her instantly. “Oh.” She absorbed it, incredulous. “Is this…”

“Asphodel Fields.” Morpheus said with a smile in his voice.

An ocean of luminous white flowers stretched as far as she could see.

Each blossom was like a glowing star, their endless profusion softly illuminating the undulating landscape of low hills.

To the left stretched a forest of cypresses, their dark trunks towering higher than any in the mortal realm, thousands of tiny copper lights glowing in their branches.

“That light among the cypresses… Are they fireflies?”

“No,” Morpheus replied. “The cones. The Underworld cypresses have glowing cones, so the Shades don’t get lost between them.”

She couldn’t tear her eyes away, fascinated by the vista of the Underworld more than the chamber, even though it was a marvel of black marble and amber pillars supporting a ceiling like that of Hades’ library: obsidian-black, with sparkling constellations of gemstones embedded in its inky depths, each shimmering with its own light.

The bed was a comfortable arrangement of white, layered silks and fluffy pillows. She sat at its foot, her eyes still fixed on the view through the window.

“You like it here,” Morpheus observed.

She inhaled the honeysuckle fragrance wafting in. “It feels… like home.”

“Does it?” Leaning against the wall, he gazed at the cypresses in abstraction.

“Hades is right—you have a unique bond with our realm because, as a healer, you understand its nature. Healing can be a matter of life and death, though I’ll be the first to admit that your gift of healing, and the power behind it, is unique, much like a gem I haven’t seen anywhere else.

It’s fascinating.” He paused for longer, then added quietly.

“It’s also interesting that you feel at home here.

I, too, cherish the Underworld and cannot imagine living anywhere else, but I was born in this realm. ”

“It feels as though I’m attuned to it.” She placed her hand over her heart. “As if a piece of me is connected to it… It’s difficult to put into words.” She glanced at the luminous landscape again. “I wish I could visit the Asphodel Fields.”

“I’m sure you do.” Morpheus turned to her, now framed by the window, with the faint light dancing on his snowy wings.

He seemed almost crystalline in appearance.

“But first, you need to recover. You don’t even need to sleep—resting here should rejuvenate you in no time.

Then we can head to the Roots to identify that deity, and you can return to your realm. And your king.”

“Oh. Yes, of course,” she mumbled, a merciless blush spreading across her cheeks. She fixed her eyes on the gauzy bedding, praying Morpheus wouldn’t notice, but her hopes were swiftly dashed.

“You’ve gone red, Calliste. Is King Theron the reason my father is so envious?”

Calliste glanced at him briefly, trying to decide if she could confide in him—but the argument she’d had with Hypnos in the library was telling enough.

“Yes. But Hypnos doesn’t seem to understand that ultimately, I belong to Mount Hellecon, my sisters, and my order.

Theron—I mean, the king knows this. We both understand that although we met by chance, we will eventually have to part ways. ”

“Oh?” Morpheus hummed under his breath, amused.

“It’s obvious to me,” she replied, regret slicing into her.

The god of visions watched her absently, leaning against the wall beside the window, the flecks of silver in his eyes twinkling like faraway silvery fish in turquoise depths.

Honey-haired, with his snowy-white wings tinted with teal at the tips and his slender, yet unmistakably powerful build, he was the essence of enchantment.

“Interesting. You clearly know your destiny.”

She tried to puzzle out the irony in his voice. “I know where I belong.”

“And you’re certain it’s not in King Theron’s arms?”

A warm tingle spread through her chest, but she still couldn’t understand why he kept teasing her about it, so she changed the subject. “Why did you say your father doesn’t own up to his mistakes?”

“Huh? Oh, right. He just doesn’t. He has always been controlling, and now he’s set his sights on you. As a mortal, you’re at a disadvantage… as mortals are far easier to bend to a god’s will.”

She squared her shoulders. “We’ll see about that.”

“That’s the spirit.” His eyes gleamed with approval. “I’ll be on my way. I’d offer you food or drink, but… all you need here is rest while your body heals in the mortal realm. I’ll be back soon.” His white wings seemed to leave glistening trails in the air as he left.

Although he looked like Hypnos, everything about his gentle nature set him so blissfully apart, even his scent, like a citrus fruit she couldn’t quite name.

She didn’t know how long she lingered at the window, gazing across the Asphodel Fields. Sun didn’t grace this realm, and nothing seemed to mark the time of the day, though she suspected there must have been some way to measure the passage of time here.

Unless the immortals had no need for it.

She lay down and closed her eyes, lulled by the deep silence of the Underworld.

***

She couldn’t tell if she had fallen asleep or slipped into deep relaxation.

Time and darkness washed over her in lazy waves and currents, lulling her as she sank deeper into the quiet until she floated in the unwavering, radiant heart of calm.

Suddenly, it felt as though everything tilted, and she found herself perched on a whipped-up cushion, with her back sinking into similar softness among iridescent white peaks. The air was scented with green apples. The sky was majestic cobalt.

A flash of red and gold pulled her attention to the right.

Beside her sat a marvel of a man—no: a god, his wings shimmering, the angular lines of his face softened by the curl of his long, fair hair, floating like wisps of incense.

His pale skin was misty at the edges, his eyes two silver blurs in the haze surrounding him, his mouth chiseled, its corners raised a fraction.

His crown of poppies gleamed, smoked, releasing a scented mist that unraveled into endless blue threads.

He sat on a throne carved from clouds, shimmering like pearls in the sunlight, while she was perched on its cushion-like armrest as they floated on what seemed like a cloud with a mountain peak piercing through it on the horizon.

Awestruck by his presence, she watched him while somewhere far away, an ethereal chorus of voices sang a divine hymn, distracting her and making it difficult to place him despite his air of familiarity.

But he was certainly a god, and when his intimidating beauty registered with her, she hastily looked away.

“Don’t,” he crooned in a voice as heated as the breeze.

“I know I shouldn’t look—”

“ Don’t look away .”

When she glanced again, his gaze locked on hers, and it was as if she was pulled underwater, where everything was subdued and sluggish; like drowning, inexorably, in him.

“My favored doesn’t have to be coy in my presence.” Smooth syllables rolled off his tongue, rippling like threads of smoke from his crown. “And you are my favored. Don’t you remember?”

She scrabbled for words, flustered. “Forgive me.”

“Don’t.” He lifted his hand, his thumb hovering over her mouth before he delicately pressed it against her lips.

“Don’t apologize,” he finished, his smile indulgent.

“My favored doesn’t need to apologize for anything.

” His eyes were now like silver embers, their glow saturating the space between them.

He traced his finger across her lower lip.

Deep in her abdomen, a yearning she’d never known twisted into existence. Her cheeks heated up. A thought echoed in her mind like a silver beat of her own heart. I belong to him.

“How does that feel?” he asked, taking his hand away and lowering it onto the armrest beside her.

“Like not enough.” It was barely a taste, and she wanted more—so much more.

“Imagine…” His voice was faraway, dreamy. “What our kiss would taste like. That’s why I’m careful with you.”

That craving deep in her abdomen spread through her whole body, heating it up, but she tried to keep her head and unravel the mystery of him. “Why am I your favored?”

Amusement softened his face. “My reasons are endless, but here’s one: because of your unyielding heart; that everlasting light burning inside you that draws me in ways I cannot, and don’t want to, explain, because I enjoy mysteries.

I like it that you resist even me; I like the pull of our attraction, Calliste, our little games and quarrels that ultimately don’t matter, because in the end, you cannot belong to anyone else but me. ”

Her breath stilled at the name he uttered. “Calliste—is this my name?” Suddenly, the distant chorus fell silent, and she jolted, feeling as though she was about to grasp a memory just out of reach.

He rose from the throne and turned to gaze down at her. His silvery aura intensified, harsh now. The scent of green apples and incense from his smoking crown thickened in the breeze around them.

She sank back through the silver depths, unblinking, serene, exalted by his presence. Why did I press him for my name? It’s irrelevant.

His voice seeped into her mind, its sweetness scalding.

“The more important question is whether you can imagine yourself as a goddess beside me, my daylight, my delight . Together, our combined powers would have Olympus—” he gestured at the mountain peak breaking through the clouds on the horizon, “—and other immortal courts vying for our attention.”

She glanced. The mountain peak was home to a magnificent, towering court crafted from white marble, with columns carved from crystal, or diamonds, its roofs blazing with gold tiles. “But… I’m a mortal, aren’t I?”

“With me by your side, you’ll reach unimaginable heights, becoming powerful—and then, immortal.”

“With you… Who are you? Tell me your name.”

He chuckled, relaxing. “I’ll trade it for a kiss.”

There was something delightful about this game—him—everything about this magical moment: his attention, the power exuding from him, the wonder of his closeness. “A kiss,” she repeated, mesmerized, wanting him more than anything. “Just one?”

His brow lifted, a challenge glowing in his eyes. “Do you think one will be enough?”

“No,” she exhaled, caught in a slow, burning swirl of emotions. The distant chorus crescendoed, the hymn like moonlight, gentle yet hypnotizing. Her body hummed in expectation.

“You crave no other man but me .” He stated it as if it was a fact as he leaned forward, his face close, features harsh, the silver pouring from his eyes nearly blinding.

“On that note,” he said, his voice wrapping around her like smoke, “have you ever wondered what it’s like to make love to a god? ”