Page 68 of The Cursed Chalice

Turning to the leaning mirror, I see the image of myself leaning on the glass.

“Aric, I said?—”

“I heard what you said. But would you rather she married someone else? Fuck someone else.”

I sit on the sofa. “If that’s our reasoning, we are fucked.”

Aric paces with his hands behind his back. Every so often, I lose him as he moves right to the edge of the mirror.

“Ares, under our name, she has protection from her family and Thorne.”

My fingers dig into my forehead. “Her being married to us puts a literal target on her back. Both the gods and my enemies will want her dead.”

Aric walks into the depths of the mirror, where I can’t see him.“This marriage buys us time. Hecate may find a loophole.”

My heart flutters with the thought of a loophole, and if anyone can find it, it’s Hecate. But unlike Aric, I am a cynic. “Time is not a cure. The end will come whether we find a loophole or not.”

Aric’s footsteps shuffle, then stop.“Her presence makes me feel sane.”

A bitter chuckle leaves my chest. “We haven’t been sane since Talia.”

The room drops into silence. I know Aric is thinking, trying to bring up something to convince me that this is a wise decision.

“Ares, it keeps others from using her.”

A sadness aches in my chest. “If it all fails, I will end up being her killer.”

“Who are you talking to?” Soraya’s voice stops my train of thoughts.

I sit up slowly, thinking about what to say.

“Tell her about us. If she wants to run…we let her. But if she stays….”

“Um, Ares?” Soraya is holding onto the doorknob like a lifeline.

SORAYA

I couldn’t sleep. I took a shower and changed into my pajamas. Still no sign of sleep. I did the only logical thing. I wandered around the house. So much has happened today. Kidnapping, my cousin’s betrayal, and now a marriage proposal. Do I want to get married to Ares? Suppose he is like Elias but more covert. Then I think about all the things Ares has done for me in such a short amount of time. How comfortable am I? But there are still things I don’t know. Questions that I have. Maybe Ares has questions. That’s how I ended up in front of his door. I heard two voices, like he was talking to someone over the phone. I waited and then knocked, but I got no response. I open the door. What I see amazes me.

Ares is rubbing his forehead, and his voice is changing as he speaks. If I close my eyes, one speaker is smooth, democratic, eloquent. The other is powerful, forthright, commanding. But it all comes from the same body.

He sits up in shock, and I hold on to the doorknob, praying that I didn’t get engaged to a man as mentally ill as Elias.

“Are you okay?” I ask, closing the door slowly behind me.

Ares sighs and points to a chair. “Have a seat; let’s talk.”

I sit on the long black sofa and grab a gold and brown pillow with a tassel and hold it to my chest. He’s going to say to me he can’t do it. He is changing his mind. I knew it. Or maybe he was about to tell me why he was speaking in different voices.

Ares leans forward on his knees. “I have what some people may call dissociative identity disorder.”

I sit and blink, trying to formulate words. I’ve heard of it, but I don’t know exactly what it is. Can I still marry him?

“Say something, Little Flame.” Ares sits still and waits, his nose flaring.

“Does that mean you’re schizophrenic?”

Ares closes his eyes and sighs. “No. I don’t hallucinate. I haven’t lost touch with reality.”