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Theron ignored their cries and dove into the middle of the melee, landing atop the princess. He grabbed her around her middle and rolled to his feet as she shrieked in pain. Theron shouldered through the onslaught of frenzied soldiers and paladins, letting their weapons cut him to ribbons, shielding the princess as best he could. When at last he’d made it outside the vicious huddle, a bloodcurdling, triumphant cry went up. Someone raised the dualist’s head high.

“Your Majesty!” one of his people cried.

“Get them back! The princess is injured!” Theron ordered.

He wrapped her in his magic, healing broken bones and deep gashes, a punctured lung and a fractured face. When he was done, he turned his magic to healing his own wounds. Only when he was surrounded by the armed soldiers of Aureum, their backs to him as they kept the surging crowd at bay, did he relax a fraction.

“Should have let me die,” Epicasta spat at him, tears running down her blood-stained face.

“Maybe, if you’re very well-behaved, I’ll indulge you—after our wedding,” he hissed quietly so that only she could hear.

“I shouldn’t have hoped. I’ve only sealed my fate,” she sobbed.

And he his. Theron closed his eyes and sighed.

“If you tell me where your mother is holding your lover, I’ll free him for you. You may even keep him by your side, if you swear to stay out of my way and keep your mother on a leash.”

Epicasta laughed bitterly.

“It’s too late for that now.”

“The princess is here! The dualist attacked Princess Epicasta! Guards, to me! Get the princess back to the palace safely!” Stentor cried, riling up the crowd.

Epicasta closed her eyes and sighed, wiping the tears from her face, resignation and resentment turning her grey eyes flinty. Theron held out his hand to help her stand but she slapped it away. She struggled to her feet, glaring at any who dared meet her gaze or offer assistance.

When Stentor’s ragtag band of bloodthirsty soldiers saw Epicasta emerge from the huddle of Theron’s people, their eyes widened at the state of her—hair in disarray, her clothes torn and gory, her skin marred by dirt and blood, the evidence of horrific wounds painted in crimson across her gown. It ignited a frenzy. They turned from her to the body of the dualist and screamed, falling on it as they tore it apart. Only a few kept their heads and surrounded the princess, keeping the people at bay with sharp bronze and barked orders.

As the soldiers turned to wolves, hungry for the flesh of their enemy, Theron’s people retreated from the carnage.

“Report,” Theron ordered.

The nearest Aurean soldier got to his knee and bent his head.

“Greetings to the sun of Aureum. We travelled from Altanus in the company of High Priestess Myrina and a contingent of her paladins the moment word of your predicament reached us. We were attacked twice on the road, once by bandits, once by monstrosities, leading to our unpardonable delay. Her Holiness is just behind us, outside the city, and has come to purify you as well as chastise Queen Flora for keeping you, Your Majesty.”

If people could explode from a combination of self-hatred and rage, Theron would have decorated the cobbled streets of Boreas in a grisly splatter.

He’d been a matter of days from his complete freedom. If he’d had the patience and resolve, he’d have avoided this detestable marriage, Orithyia’s meddling—everything. He could have fucked Aurora to within an inch of her sanity and finally—finally—wrapped her around his finger for good. He’d have had an oracle begging for his touch, his to control, no complications in sight.

Now, because his fairy had a bloody conscience and deep-rooted need for total monogamy, his odds of controlling her were slim at best. Instead, he’d made deals with the two women he despised most in Trisia and was marrying the third on that ignominious list. Theron released a hissed breath through clenched teeth as his magic burst from him.

No, not because of Aurora, because he’d been afraid. He cursed himself. Cursed his cowardice.

And vowed to make Orithyia and Flora pay.

Because he should have received numerous letters announcing that his people would soon arrive, Myrina in tow. They would have had runners delivering the mail a week in advance of their coming, at the least. He should have received word the moment the gates opened, but the letters had no doubt been intercepted. And those two conniving snakes had known—they must have. All her bluster about the fate of Trisia and still Orithyia was Flora’s creature through and through.

He’d been played for a fool.

Theron laughed, a bitter sound with an edge of hysteria. His soldier looked at him with concern.

“Your orders, Your Majesty?”

“To the temple of Passion for an audience with High Priestess Myrina.”

By the time they arrived in the temple plaza once more, his people had helped him change out of his soiled temple robes and into something finally befitting his station. Boots polished to a high shine and decorated with gold fittings, loose linen pants in a deep blue, a belt encrusted with gold and jewels, an open robe that sparkled as if spun from pure gold, sapphires glinting in the swirling decorations. He donned a thickly braided gold and sapphire necklace accented with pearls. They tamed his long hair and adorned him with a matching set of gold and sapphire earrings and a headband of the same that cut across his forehead. The look was completed with golden cuffs and rings. Theron felt more himself than he had in weeks. It would have to do for now.

Myrina had taken charge of the chaos, ordering priestesses and paladins alike to recover the people buried in the rubble, treat the wounded, and ensure order throughout the city. She was in her element amongst the chaos. It suited her.

When she caught sight of his approach, her amber eyes glittered with pleasure. She barked out a few more orders, getting the whole relief effort organised in a matter of moments before she approached him.

Myrina wrapped thick, welcoming arms around him and kissed his cheeks.

“My little lion, I’ve missed you!”

“And I you, Aunty,” Theron returned the hug, enveloped in her warmth and softness. A part of him came home for the first time in weeks.

“That’s High Priestess Aunty to you, young man!” she giggled, wrapping him on the forehead. But his smile must have shown his troubles, because her amber eyes softened and she pressed a hand the same rich, ochre brown as his to his cheek as her dark brows pinched in sympathy. “Oh, my poor boy, what did they do to you?”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, on hair so deep a shade of red that it was nearly black, just showing streaks of grey threading through. She was the only one he’d ever dared unburden himself to, the only one he fully trusted with his sorrows, his joys, his weakness. It was Myrina who had kept him whole when his world had shattered as a young man, forced to take the crown long before he was ready.

“Nothing that your presence can’t make better.”

“Come, my little lion. Anything can be solved when we put our heads together over a cup of tea.”

How he wished that were the case.

Inside the temple of Passion, everything was dipped in red, like being swallowed whole. Here, Her energy felt like a lover’s sigh, like a current of fervour shivering and shimmering everywhere he stepped. It was here he felt most at home, wrapped in the embrace of Passion’s ruby-red columns, tapestries and mosaic floors. When they reached the foot of Passion, Her statue adorned in gold and sparkling crimson, Theron and Myrina knelt, paying their respects. The incense settled his mind at the same time as it energized him.

When they stood, clerics in ruby uniforms ushered them to Myrina’s quarters, returning once they were settled with tea and biscuits, both of the highest quality. Passion was a goddess who advocated for the patronage of those most passionately dedicated to their crafts, after all, and many repaid the patronage given by the temple by serving it in whatever way they could. Walls were decorated with paintings and sculptures made by the most talented artists while the temple was, at most times, filled with the sweet sounds of musicians mastering their skills.

Myrina settled her plump, beautifully adorned self into her seat and sipped at the aromatic blend in her cup. Theron relaxed into his seat across from her, staring into his cup.

“I’ve fucked up, Aunty.”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, telling her everything he’d experienced since he’d landed at The Colonnades Of The Colossus. From his divine punishment to meeting Aurora, her magic, the plague, Flora and Orithyia’s meddling, the queen’s magic, her daughter’s threats, the vivarium, the attack by monstrosities, his brush with death, the paladins’ investigation, and finally, his deal with Orithyia. Myrina listened without judgment.

“You didn’t receive my letters?” she asked, pained.

“No.” He shook his head.

“Why didn’t you wait? You’ve always been so cautious.”

“I didn’t think you’d come, Aunty. I thought I was alone.”

“Oh, my little lion.” Myrina got up from her seat and held him in her arms once more. “I will always come for you. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

“As am I. Now, my wedding takes place in a matter of days, and it’ll be a miracle if we manage to get back to Aureum without Flora trying to start a war using her daughter as the catalyst.” He put his head in his hands.

Myrina sat back, pondering the situation, sipping her tea as she gazed out the window at the palace beyond.

“I’d always wanted you to marry for love.”

“You knew that was never going to happen,” he chided her gently.

“I just wanted you to have what I had.” She smiled sadly.

Though uncommon, high priestesses could marry. Myrina had run away from the palace as a young woman to wed her lover and join the temple. What she and his uncle had shared had inspired plays and songs dedicated to their romance. But he’d died young, and Myrina had dedicated herself fully to the goddess who had given her the greatest love of her life.

“Not everyone is fated for a great and passionate love, Aunty.”

“And yet, the way you speak of Aurora gives me hope.” She smiled conspiratorially. “Don’t think you can convince me otherwise with all your talk of using her magic for Aureum. She can be both your greatest asset and your greatest love.” She poked him in the arm to emphasize her point.

He snorted. Always the incurable romantic, his Aunty.

“It’s lust, not love.” Theron waved her off.

“Passion approves of and encourages both.” Myrina nodded sagely.

“How is it, that after I tell you of all the horrors I’ve endured, you only wish to discuss romance?”

“Bad habits.” She shrugged, unrepentant. “You should cultivate some.”

“Incorrigible.”

“Guilty as charged.” Myrina grinned briefly, before her expression turned pensive. “I’m quite cross with Orithyia. Leave her to me. That hoard of treasures alone will be enough to push her off her snooty pedestal.”

Triad willing, it might mean the bitch’s retirement altogether.

“Also, I wish to meet your intended, Princess Epicasta. It sounds like she might be convinced to side with you, or join my temple, if for no other reason than the protection I can offer.”

Theron groaned.

“Aunty, if not her, then I will simply be forced to wed another of Flora’s spawn.”

“Yes, that sacred vow of yours. We’ll have to be careful of that, but I have some ideas. First though, I need to meet the princess.”

Theron wasn’t entirely sure he wished for his Aunty to put herself in the thick of things like this, but if anyone could handle herself, it was Myrina. At the very least, it was worth considering whatever schemes she had in mind.

“Then shall we depart for the palace?” He put his cup down and offered her his arm.

“Yes, I think so.”

They left the temple, whereupon Myrina was forced to see to the lingering issues of the attack. Theron took the opportunity to look for Aurora. She was no longer at the entrance to the temple of Justice. His heart constricted with worry. She was safe at least, wasn’t she?

“Who are you looking for?” Myrina asked, finished with her tasks.

“No one.”

“That’s an awful lot of concern for no one .”

“Aunty…” he warned.

“What? I’m a busybody. It’s my goddess-given talent and I hone it to perfection to honour Her.”

“And maybe if you say it often enough, you’ll make it true.”

“One can only hope.” She patted his arm with an irreverent smile.

With Myrina on his arm and both her paladins and his soldiers at his back, he felt more confident than ever marching into the Viridian palace. For the first time since his arrival, he was treated like royalty instead of Flora’s plaything. It was probably for Myrina’s benefit, and only because he was to be their princess’ groom, but it was a refreshing change nonetheless.

With Flora busy dealing with the attack, both he and Myrina were greeted by another of Flora’s daughters, who was quickly cowed into letting them into Epicasta’s private quarters. Outside the set of interconnected suites, a heavy guard had been placed. No doubt Flora had realised she’d been mid-escape when she’d been embroiled in the melee and had taken precautions against a second attempt. But as they were ushered into the inner sanctum of Epicasta’s rooms, two voices were raised in a dispute. Before the attendant could intervene, Theron grabbed her wrist and shook his head.

“Go, and speak of this to no one.”

“My goddess will be most displeased with you if you breathe a word,” Myrina threatened with a smile.

The attendant left them on their own.

Theron held a finger to his lips and pressed his ear to the door. Myrina did likewise. Theron recognised Epicasta’s shrieking, but the other voice was baffling.

“Hyllus?” he whispered, bewildered.

“The avatar?” Myrina asked in hushed tones.

Theron nodded.

“You told me he was dead!” Epicasta screamed, followed by the crashing of a vase.

“I said he was no longer under Flora’s power!” Hyllus explained.

Another crash, another shriek.

“Which is the same damn thing!”

“Please, calm down, Cassy.”

“Don’t you dare! You have no right! I don’t care if you were his best friend and that you shared the same name, don’t you dare call me what he did! You could have saved him when he was first taken and you ran like a coward! You don’t deserve to share his name!”

Something heavy hit the door, followed by Epicasta’s sobbing.

“Is he dead? Is he alive? Where is he? Tell me!”

“He’s here, Cassy. I’m right here.”

“What are you saying?! He’s in Boreas?! Where?!”

Theron looked to Myrina. It was time to interrupt. They opened the door as quietly as possible. Just in time to witness Hyllus kneeling before Epicasta as she wept on her knees on the floor. The avatar took a pendant from beneath his tunic collar, an ancient artefact by the looks of it. He pressed it, and in an instant, he was transformed. His hair lengthened and lightened to the colour of ripe wheat, his eyes transforming from grey to bright blue, his freckles melting off his bronzed skin.

Theron’s eyes widened in shock. He’d been hiding behind an ancient enchantment this whole time? How had he managed to get his hands on it?

“I’m here, Cassy. I escaped that first week from your mother’s prison, and I hid at the Nivean court under my friend’s identity, working to become the ambassador’s bodyguard so I could save you from your mother. But then I was named the avatar and I knew I had to get you out of here while I still had the chance.”

So the avatar was Epicasta’s weakness? That made things significantly more complicated. Not only had the man freed himself from Flora’s clutches, there was little Theron could do to threaten the man into keeping Epicasta on her best behaviour. Nor was he likely to take too kindly to Theron’s plans for the princess. Merciful Triad, what a mess.

“You…you’re really my Hyllus? You’re really alive?” Epicasta’s hand trembled as she reached for his face.

“Yes. And I finally have the power to save you. Please, let me.”

Myrina gasped, her eyes filled with tears. Epicasta and the transformed Hyllus turned towards her, their eyes wide with shock and terror. Hyllus reached for his bow. Theron stepped in front of Myrina, a snarl building in the back of his throat. He’d rather be twice punished by Justice than allow anything to happen to his Aunty.

“Bound by the thread of fate and dyed in the deepest red. My goddess blesses you with Her passion,” Myrina said, her voice breathy and reverent.

Triad preserve him, he’d seen that look on her face only a few times but it always spelled trouble. The kind where she did all in her power to wed whoever it was who caused it. She’d not spoken too often about the powers Passion had bestowed on her as high priestess, but she always knew who was deeply in love with whom, who was having an affair, whose love was unrequited, and who her goddess had tied by fate.

“High Priestess Myrina?” Hyllus asked, bewildered, lowering his bow.

“It is I, Avatar, and what a pleasure it is,” Myrina replied, scurrying over to the two lovers and pulling them up off the floor. “And you must be Princess Epicasta. The last time I saw you, you were no taller than my knees! Oh, I’m so thrilled to meet you again.”

This boded ill for their former plans. Theron groaned and closed the door behind him as his Aunty fluttered and fussed over the couple. How was he to salvage this? It was clear to him at least that Aurora’s visions couldn’t be changed. But how was he to go through with a wedding ceremony with Epicasta while not marrying her and managing not to incur Knowledge’s wrath? A headache bloomed behind his eyes.

“You simply must be married in Passion’s temple. No one will be able to legally challenge your union then.”

Theron cleared his throat.

“That’s my intended you’re speaking to, Aunty.”

Myrina laughed.

“Oh no she’s not, my little lion. She’s his.” She pointed to Hyllus, who hugged Epicasta closer, a look of warning for Theron in his bright blue eyes.

Theron cursed. Epicasta sighed, defeated.

“No, he’s right, Your Holiness. I don’t think we can circumvent Aurora’s vision. I tried by running away, but as you can see, all that got me was caught in the middle of a mob and now placed under heavy guard.”

“But she only saw you in the middle of the abduction ritual, right?” Myrina asked.

“That’s right,” Hyllus said, his eyes sparkling with hope.

“What about after that? She didn’t see you both completing the ceremony, did she?”

No, she hadn’t. Just like she hadn’t seen Theron being saved by the avatar after the monstrosity had punched a hole through him. As he’d already told her, she didn’t see everything.

“If we’re to believe her visions are of what is fated, then we needn’t circumvent them to alter the future. A rock in the middle of a stream forces the water around it. We can’t change that the rock is there, but we can make choices that allow us to bend our path.”

Maybe they couldn’t change what Aurora saw, but Myrina was right. Now that they knew what was to happen, they could alter the flow of events before and after, as they were doing now.

Theron grinned.

“I have an idea.”