Page 39 of The Shadow of Polaris

“Like I said, she’ll use him as a strategy to lure me back. My mother is quite skilled at using love to her advantage. She knows I’d do anything to free him.” Aryx sighed and brushed his hand against a canvas portrait hanging on the wall next to me.

It was of a handsome, middle-aged man with the same amber eyes. He was holding the hand of a grinning toddler with slightly blurred features, as if the artist struggled to capture the child’s likeness because he couldn’t keep still.

“If I help you. Promise me that when this is all over, I’ll never see you again. I’ve had enough treachery and deceit for a million lifetimes, and I don’t need anymore. I want the life I deserve. And I want nothing to do with you.” Aryx’s back straightened, and although I couldn’t see his face, I knew he grimaced against my words.

The sound of my voice pierced the air in the room until it faded away, leaving a heavy, impenetrable silence between us. Finally, he turned back to me, his eyes fierce and emotionless as they had been when he first entered the chamber.

“If that’s what you wish, then I promise it.”

“Good.” I paused, swallowing the lump in my throat. “So, when do we go?”

Chapter 22

We agreed to stay the night at the manor, keeping watch over Arcturas as she regained her strength. I kept my dagger close, avoiding Aryx’s wandering gaze from across the study. He remained in a rocker by the window, scanning the outer grounds for arachnae throughout the night.

I shrugged off his attempts to make conversation, raising my blade in his direction any time he opened his mouth to speak. My mind raced through everything I’d learned tonight,thinking of my parents and my mother’s subtle cruelty. As children, my sister and I would sneak into her chambers and watch as she brushed the long locks of midnight hair that fell just below her waist. Wonder danced in our eyes as she’d hum tunes to herself, applying blush to her already rosy cheeks. I never questioned why I was left to play alone in our nursery while Adria and our mother explored the gardens together. While I dressed my dolls with makeshift clothes made from old kitchen rags, the pair would twist flower crowns into each other’s hair. My childhood admiration put her on a pedestal, shrouding the obvious difference between my sister and me. As I grew into adulthood, I simply accepted the inequality between us. It had always been there, so why think it out of the ordinary?

I grew up to believe my father loved my mother, but the more I lost myself in memories, the more I questioned. The subtleties of their strained relationship were there; however, they were nearly undetectable unless looking for them. My mother reaching for her husband’s hand as he pulled it away. The empty expressions they shared. The silent tears shed in the late morning hours as my mother sat, unaware of her two daughters hidden behind a closed armoire door.

My father loved me until his dying breath, always embracing me a second or two longer than he did Adria. Maybe that’s why she despised me so much. The jealousy. The truth of my birth. Maybe it was fear? Had she known of the power I possessed? Did she punish me and lock me away in order to save her family and her city from the demons that lurked beneath my surface?

These questions ricocheted against my mind as I watched the half-god pace across the chamber. Faint moonlight filtered through thin, floor length curtains, casting shadows across his furrowed brow. Allowing myself to dive into my past was easier than dealing with the pain of my present.

Eventually, I’d have to come to terms with it. I’d exposed myself entirely to a man that lied and manipulated to achieve a goal. A part of me still noticed the broadness of his shoulders, the way his lower lip pouted slightly when he was lost in thought, the blonde, smooth locks of hair that framed a powerful jaw. I shook my head and focused on my anger. Better to feel rage than to the sickening attraction I still held. He wasn’t Rune, I reminded myself. He was a killer. A liar. A cold-blooded soldier, willing to hurt anyone or destroy anything that stood in his way.

Flicking the dirt from under my fingernails with the blade, I sunk lower into my chair. Once Tethys was gone, I’d truly be free. I snorted. How many times had I said that to myself before?

Once I escaped the tower, I’d be free.

Once I got to Ursae, I’d be free.

Once I accepted my demons and shadows, I’d be free.

At what point did it end? Was my life bound to be this constant battle for freedom?

I sighed and tried to silence those thoughts. Outside the arched windows, a petal floated in the springtime breeze of the manor’s garden. It bounced in the air, spiraling towards the hedges below. Landing in a pond of lily pads, it sunk beneath the surface, disappearing into the murky jade depths.

“You should get some sleep,” Aryx said, his voice clipped.

“If you think I’d even close one eye in your presence, you’re gravely mistaken. I’m not falling for any more of your tricks.”

“Suit yourself. We have a long journey tomorrow. Now’s your chance to rest.” He shrugged, indifference bitter on his lips.

Arcturas growled low in her throat as he started toward me. Rather than stopping beside my chair, he brushed past, heading for the chamber door.

“Where are you going?” I asked, turning to face him.

Without looking back, he said, “To go get some sleep. There are beds far more comfortable than those shitty old chairs.”

#

At dawn, we escaped into the city, blending into the crowds of early risers off to work. Arcturas trailed behind us under the cover of landscaped shrubbery. With the diminishing darkness of night, the city bloomed. We passed through the markets with merchants bustling from customer to customer, selling plump fresh produce. We filled our satchels with rations of hard cheese, fruit, and cured meats. Although the journey to Canissa wasn’t long, the roads were treacherous, and the hills were steep. On foot, it’d take double the time as it would on horseback.

Aryx stopped at a fruit stand on the outskirts of the market. Turning to face us, the farmer dropped his armful of apples in surprise at the Spring Prince, inquiring about the price of his plums.

“O-On the house, your highness,” the merchant said, bowing deeply.

Aryx bent to collect the bruised apples, now rolling down the street.

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