Page 53 of The Shadow of Polaris

He would die beneath my blade.

I raised my dagger, its razor edge webbed with violet magic.

“Goddess, I beg of you. Canissa needs their King,” he cried, crawling away from me.

The dagger was ice in my fist. It whispered in my ear, urging me to plunge it into the king’s chest. I pounced at the whimpering, fragile man. Before its gleaming point met flesh, however, a calloused hand caught my wrist.

“Elpis. Stop,” Aryx whispered.

The warmth of his body radiated to mine.

“It’s okay. Put the knife down.” His thumb stroked the soft underside of my wrist. “Come back to me.”

The tingling receded, pulling those violent thoughts with them.

“That’s it, come back.” He stepped into me and stroked my cheek.

The crimson tunneling in my vision faded, and the puppet strings of magic let go of their hold. I felt the fullness of his lips meet mine. He breathed me in, interlocking his fingers with my jaw. My grip around the hilt relaxed. The dagger clattered to the floor.

Everyone and everything vanished. Only the two of us occupied this second in time. He pulled away, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His eyes smoldered, warming my cheeks. I swallowed the dryness in my throat.

“Good girl.” His voice was full of desire.

Before I could wrap myself in his lingering kiss, everything rushed back. What was I doing? I couldn’t kill Zecharius. He was just doing his duty. He was right; the people needed him. I sucked in a breath, looking down at the old man cowering before me.

“Oh, thank you Goddess. Thank you,” the King cried, a bead of snot dripping from his long nose.

“I-I’m sorry,” I stammered, relaxing into Aryx’s outstretched arms.

Someone clapped behind us.

“Well, well, well, making a scene like that. You sure are your mother’s daughter,” a male voice thundered through the hall.

Chapter 28

We turned to see the God of Autumn himself with arms crossed, leaning against the frame of the dark corridor’s entrance. I dropped to my knees, bowing deeply before him. Like Polaris, he hovered above the floor as he started towards us, a long, red robe trailing behind him.

The god was glorious in every sense of the word. Tattoos clawed across the olive skin of his bare chest, wrapping over his shoulders and down his spine. He had long brown hair neatly pulled into a braid that hung to his hips and a full beard that enveloped his hardened chin. A crown of gold-dipped antlers wrapped around his broad forehead with a regal weight that only a god could withstand.

“King Procyon, please, listen to us.” Aryx rose from his bow.

“You dare command me, Spring Prince?” Procyon’s husky voice boomed over us with a transcendent force that could crumble even the strongest of citadels.

He knelt before me, running his thumb across my lower lip.

“Stand tall, my Queen, embrace the power you’ve inherited with grace.”

Aryx watched as Procyon guided me to the table, his mouth now a thin line across his face.

“Sit. We will speak like civilized folk.” Procyon pulled out a chair with one long arm and motioned for me to sit.

Collecting myself, I lowered to the chair and clasped my trembling hands tightly. The god sat across from me, motioning for Aryx and Zecharius to join us.

“Lords and Ladies of the court, you are dismissed for the day. Tell no one of what happened here.” The council flooded through the exit, figures fading into shadow as their steps receded.

“Now, what is it you wish to discuss? What’s so urgent it cost six of my best guards their lives?” he asked.

Procyon raised his hand to Aryx as he opened his mouth to speak. His palms were larger than my face. With one quick grip, he could crush my skull to dust. Procyon looked at me, the deep orange of his eyes sparkling with curiosity and a faint trace of amusement as the half-god beside him grew red in the face.

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