Page 19

The dulcet cords of harps and lyres filled the air, the harmonious sounds underscoring the clear, bright tones of flutes rising from an invisible celestial orchestra. The soft tinkling of water added to the beguiling melody, the jets spouting from the hundred crystal fountains adorning the open-roofed banquet hall and the gardens sparkling magically under the shimmering constellations and swirling galaxies stretched across an endless night sky.

Icarus observed the Gods and demigods circulating through the reception over his glass of nectar where he sat in a private arbor suspended above a small lake. It was the second day of the week-long banquet all divine beings were required to attend every one hundred years and was as much a social gathering as it was an opportunity for new demigods to be introduced and pay their respects to the Gods of Old.

It was Icarus’s fourth time attending the function since he’d taken the seat of the North Star.

Not much has changed since we were last here.

He was not sure if this was a good thing in view of the rumor that had been circulating of late.

Icarus became conscious of the avid stares he was drawing from the busy crowd. It was the reason the Guardians had requested a private pergola outside the main hall for the duration of the festivities. Though he had long grown accustomed to the naked longing with which many of the guests who attended the banquet openly regarded him, it was still uncomfortable to be the focus of such heated gazes.

He was distracted from his aggrieved thoughts by a low grumble.

“Like peacocks showing off their plumes,” someone groused under their breath.

Icarus glanced at the hulking, red-haired demigod leaning against a marble column beside him. Archon, the West Star and custodian of the war hammer Echo, was scowling at the glittering figures below.

“Better not let our Heavenly fathers and mothers hear you utter such blasphemy,” Icarus told his brother-in-arms drily.

“I shall give them blasphemy,” Archon scoffed. “Look at them! Tarted up to the eyeballs and acting like they have nary a concern in this world.” He narrowed his eyes, outrage simmering in the tawny depths. “Of course they don’t, the damn fools. We’re the ones working our armors off keeping them safe from the dangers lurking outside the Nether.”

Icarus swallowed a sigh. Arguing with Archon when he was in this mood was about as productive as trying to convince war demons not to be the monsters they were born to be.

“Why does Archon look like he’s about to eat someone?”

A beautiful, dark-haired demigod holding two platters loaded with succulent fruits and fine meats had alighted onto the arbor. Icarus smiled softly at his blood brother Rohengar, the South Star and wielder of the Spear of Light.

Nildar, the East Star and keeper of the divine bow Sky Piercer, landed gracefully in Rohengar’s wake, not a drop spilled from the drinks he carried. He gave one to Archon.

“Here, how about you down that and relax? Rohengar and I could feel your murderous vibes from the other side of the banquet hall. Even the Winter God was shuddering.”

Archon accepted the glass grudgingly. “Yes, well, maybe Boreas should stop being a giant baby and help us out in the Nether.”

“You’re the biggest baby here,” Nildar pointed out.

Archon sucked in air.

Translucent wings shimmered out of the corner of Icarus’s eyes as Archon and Nildar launched into one of their caustic exchanges. Several attendants hovered close by, their expressions nervous as they peered at the four Stars. Though they were meant to serve all the Gods and demigods at the banquet equally, the reputation of the Guardians was such that most weren’t sure how to behave around them.

Archon’s glares and Nildar’s icy stares hadn’t helped matters thus far.

Rohengar sighed. “Stop fighting you two. You’re scaring the servants.”

“We’re not scaring them,” Archon scoffed.

Nildar’s green eyes glinted with cold menace as he glanced at the loitering figures. “If this is enough to frighten them, they shouldn’t have signed up for the position.”

A Naiad overheard his remark. Her face crumpled. She darted into some bushes, her wings trembling like jewels as she sobbed. Her friends arrowed toward her to console her.

Rohengar pinched the bridge of his nose. “Great. You made her cry.”

“She’ll get over it,” Nildar said dismissively.

Archon smirked.

“Daphne won’t be pleased,” Rohengar warned.

Nildar and Archon sobered. Even the Guardians knew not to cross the queen of the Naiads. Daphne might come across as sweetness and light, but she was a Goddess who had annihilated entire battlefields in the past and was fiercely loyal to her kin.

“Maybe I should apologize,” Nildar muttered.

“By the way, where did you find that?” Archon indicated the bottle the East Star had brought from the banquet hall.

“This?” Nildar’s lips tilted in a mocking smile as he waved the bottle. “It’s a present. A specialty of the Spirit Realm. I’ve been meaning to try it for a while.”

Archon’s eyes flashed. “You got that from that horned bastard?!” he spat.

“If you mean the Wild God, then the answer is yes,” Nildar replied blithely.

Rohengar studied the East Star with a trace of concern. “Be careful, brother. Pan isn’t one to bestow gifts without asking for something in return.”

“Indeed,” Archon groused. “That son of a goat loves nothing more than forcing people into his service in exchange for a favor.”

“You are correct.” Nildar shrugged. “I had to promise him something.”

Archon stiffened. He fisted his hands, brows lowering in a fierce glare. “What kind of god-awful request did that brute make of you?!”

“I owe him a sexual favor,” Nildar said nonchalantly.

Icarus choked on his drink. Rohengar dropped the piece of fruit he had just pierced with a fork.

The glass in Archon’s hand exploded into glittering shards.

“You fool!” Nildar rushed over, grabbed Archon’s hand, and used a napkin to dab at the cuts on the West Star’s palm.

Icarus leaned toward Rohengar.

“He knows Archon can just heal himself, right?” he whispered sotto voce.

Rohengar hushed him.

“Did you—” Archon stopped and swallowed, unheeding of his wounds. “Did you really tell Pan he could bed you?!” His frozen gaze remained locked on Nildar.

Nildar scowled. “Of course not! I was only jesting. Besides, you know as well as I do that becoming a Guardian practically means taking a vow of celibacy.”

“Oh.” Archon sagged. “That’s—that’s right.” His cuts began to mend as he came to his senses.

Silvery laughter drew Icarus’s gaze to the main banquet hall. A group of Goddesses had just arrived. From the way the crowd converged on them, their company was sought-after.

“It’s the Moirai and the Hesperides,” Rohengar observed, a hint of surprise underscoring his voice.

Nildar and Archon wandered over to his side.

Icarus studied the Goddesses greeting old friends and acquaintances with bright voices and tactful smiles. Their beauty was dazzling even for deities and their confident bearing spoke of the power they wielded.

Nildar blinked. “Oh.”

Archon raised an eyebrow. “Now that’s one for the books.”

Icarus followed their stares.

A second group of Goddesses had entered the hall behind the Moirai and the Hesperides. Though just as physically stunning, their wings were as black as night and their austere auras signaled the darker nature of their divine abilities.

Icarus knew without being told that he was looking at the Furies and the Black Fates, blood sisters of the Moirai and the Hesperides.

The reticent manner in which the dark winged Goddesses were being welcomed was in sharp contrast to the reception their bright-haired and white-winged siblings had earned.

Icarus frowned slightly.

Their presence may be daunting but still, it is rather rude not to show them the same respect as their blood kin.

“It has been a good five hundred years since I last saw all of Nyx’s daughters gathered under one roof,” Rohengar murmured.

Icarus glanced curiously at his brother. Rohengar had left Rain Vale and assumed the seat of the South Star long before he himself was chosen to be a Guardian.

“I thought all deities were obliged to attend the centennial banquet.”

“They are, if their duties allow,” Rohengar replied. He exchanged a troubled look with Nildar and Archon.

“It seems the daughters of Nyx have been busy behind the scenes, just as we have been in the Nether,” Nildar said broodingly.

Lines wrinkled Archon’s brow. “We should talk to them. See if they have heard the same whispers that have reached our ears.”

Unease prickled Icarus’s scalp as he probed the Goddesses’ neutral expressions.

Could the reason that they have scarcely attended the banquets of late have something to do with what we’ve heard? That a God might be planning some kind of rebellion?

Movement behind the Black Fates captured his gaze. Icarus’s eyes widened.

Rohengar drew a sharp breath beside him.

Two figures had alighted at the entrance of the banquet hall. One was a handsome demigod with fair hair and dark wings that sizzled with stygian flames. The other figure was barely visible where he was wrapped in a storm of black wind.

Icarus’s belly tightened when the inky currents parted to reveal the second demigod’s form.

Jet-black hair crowned the deity’s tall, imposing frame. His eyes shone the color of purest cobalt and his sharply chiseled features would challenge even the prettiest Moirai’s charms. A shimmering tunic hugged his powerful body, the hem stopping just short of his knees and hinting at the muscular thighs beneath.

Icarus swallowed.

He flinched when Archon spoke. Heat warmed his ears when he realized he’d nearly been caught staring at the dark demigod below like a lovestruck fool.

“Who’s that with Coraos?” Archon was frowning at the new arrivals.

Icarus recognized the name he had uttered. Coraos was a demigod son of Nyx.

He must be the one with the gold-spun hair and dark flames.

“I believe that is Ivmir,” Rohengar replied.

Something in his brother’s voice had Icarus looking over at him. The South Star was still watching Coraos. A faint flush of color crept upon Rohengar’s cheeks.

Surprise swept through Icarus.

He had never seen that expression on his brother’s face before.

Rohengar took a shallow breath and recovered his composure.

Icarus hesitated before choosing to maintain his silence. It was not his place to question what he had just glimpsed in Rohengar’s bright, sapphire eyes.

Nildar pursed his lips. “So that’s the demigod Nyx sired with Queen Atlanteia’s son,” he muttered, his focus on Ivmir. “It explains the Dryad magic I can feel from him.” The East Star brightened in the next instant, the glee in his green eyes telling Icarus he had just recalled something that had tickled his funny bone. “Wait. Wasn’t he the one who got banned from attending the banquet when he was a child?”

Icarus blinked. “What?”

Nildar flashed a grin his way. “You likely won’t know this story. You were still in Rain Vale at the time.”

Rohengar sighed at Icarus’s questioning look. “Apparently, there was an…incident when Ivmir was still a juvenile demigod.”

“What kind of incident would warrant a ban from the divine banquet?” Icarus asked, aghast.

“One in which a star got destroyed,” Rohengar replied reluctantly.

Nildar chuckled.

Icarus’s secret esteem for the demigod he had been admiring from afar faded a little.

“I don’t like him,” Archon stated bluntly.

They all turned to the West Star.

Archon was wearing a mutinous look.

“Not that this surprises me, considering your frequent lapses in judgement in such matters,” Nildar said patiently, “but why, pray tell, do you dislike Ivmir when you have not even met him?”

Archon ignored Nildar’s unsubtle dig. “He looks like a lady killer. There, see?” He pointed, peeved. “All the female deities and attendants are already fawning over him.” His mouth twisted in a moue of disgust. “Good Heavens, even the males are trying to ingratiate themselves with him.”

Icarus looked over. Half the crowd had indeed peeled away from the Moirai and their sisters and were busy trying to engage the dark-winged demigod. From the tense looks on the Furies and Black Fates’ faces, it looked like they had half-expected this. The Moirai and the Hesperides joined the dark-winged Goddesses as they approached their demigod brother, the guests parting diffidently in their way.

A whispered exchange took place between the siblings.

Ivmir frowned. His annoyed voice reached Icarus’s ears.

“Why should I?”

Several of the Goddesses’ mouths flattened to thin lines. More words were traded.

Ivmir listened for a moment before crossing his arms, his expression growing even more irate. “And how is that my problem exactly?” He glared at the deities lurking close by. “I was born with this face. It’s not my fault these fools can’t stop gawking at it.”

Icarus choked on an involuntary chuckle. He bit his lip and smoothed his features into an impassive impression at Rohengar’s curious glance.

Over on the banquet floor, the eldest Moira Atropos and the Black Fate Tenebra were pinching the bridge of their noses. One of the Furies muttered something under her breath and looked beseechingly at the night sky. Coraos’s shoulders drooped, like he’d heard all this before.

A Hesperis patted Ivmir’s back, a gentle yet determined smile stretching her lips as she spoke quietly to him.

Ivmir brightened. “Really? You’ll let me fight Ladon?” His voice rang across the banquet hall, his tone full of passionate enthusiasm.

Hesperia scowled.