Page 8 of Sons of Sorrow
That left me alone in the courtyard once again, and still with no solution for the parchment. What the hell was I supposed to do now? Trick some unknowing elemental from the Oriel of Fire into reading it for us? I kneaded the bridge of my nose, groaning as I walked away from the fountain —
And straight into Aphrodite’s face.
I yelped, jumping away. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Oh, not long,” the goddess said, twirling a lock of her hair. “Trouble in paradise? My poor little summoner. Sapling, starling, little darling.”
“Then you already know what I’m stressing over. They’re my guardians, but I’m their summoner. Their commander. They aren’t just cannon fodder to me, not just expendable foot soldiers. I could never make them do it.”
Aphrodite padded past me on bare feet, her skin and hair smelling of sugar. “Not even for the good of humanity, sapling? Or the good of all, one should say. Flora, fauna, humans, fae, everyone who calls this reality home. Why, even me.”
There it was again, the implication that the Withering might some day take hold of a god’s mind, drive them into the same frightening state of unbridled power, of mummified madness.
“A moment of pain,” Aphrodite said, “in exchange for safety and security. Sometimes the purest love is conveyed through selfless sacrifice.”
She tapped her finger on the rim of the dead fountain. It sputtered to life, clear, clean water dancing from its spouts, raining on the vines and leaves that had made its basin their home. Flowers blossomed from their stems, petals falling to adorn the surface of the water.
I clenched my fist. “I won’t sacrifice my guardians, even if they can cycle and come back to life eventually. The terror and pain of the Withering will always linger.”
Again I thought of Sister Dolores and Queen Aurelia. Frederick could remember. Surely they lived with the horror and memory of the plague themselves.
The goddess tilted her head and smiled sweetly. “You’ll figure something out, sapling. You always do. Only one gemstone away from completing your collection, hmm?”
She gestured at my medallion, the empty spot. An elemental gemstone in every cardinal direction, and a heart-shaped slot in the center. I sank my finger into the recess meant for the essence of fire and nodded.
“I’m hoping to change that with our visit to the Oriel of Fire.”
“Four elements united as one,” Aphrodite said, clapping her hands. “Oh, how delightful.”
“You know, it’s strange. I still don’t understand why I can command the guardians the way I do. By now I’ve come to suspect that it has something to do with the medallion. Did Hephaestus weave magic into it somehow? Is it your doing, maybe?”
The goddess laughed. “Don’t be preposterous. Your power comes from within. Why it applies to these guardians, I cannot say. The medallion, though lovely, and lovingly crafted by my dear husband, is merely a trinket. A place to keep your elemental jewels. Four of them, imagine that. And soon you’ll have my favor.”
My eyebrow went up my forehead. “I thought you already favored me, at least in the sense that you haven’t killed me or turned my skin inside out just yet. What exactly does having your favor entail?”
Aphrodite giggled, waving her hand dismissively. “You’ll find out soon enough, sapling. I promise, it’s nothing sinister. You’ll be so thrilled. But enough about elementals and illness. How fares your love affair?”
I narrowed my eyes, taken aback by the shift in subject matter. “Sylvain? I hardly think what we have can be called an affair at this point, but things are going great. Thanks for asking.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to offend. It truly does warm my heart to see the love between you blossom.”
Aphrodite ran her fingers along the waters of the fountain, plucking out a single flower, a white lotus. She held it to her breast and approached me, still smiling.
“And for this love to continue to blossom and grow, it must be nurtured and watered with plenty of trust.”
The lotus browned, its petals curling inward. It dried within seconds, then crumbled to dust. Withered.
“I really don’t know what you’re suggesting, Aphrodite, but I trust Sylvain with all my heart.”
“But do you trust his elders? His progenitors. His parents. Do you trust yours?”
Aphrodite pressed a finger into her dimple. I could tell that she wanted to feign thoughtfulness, but all I could think of was how she seemed to be openly taunting me. These entities and their cryptic bullshit. Why couldn’t she just say what she meant?
“We each only have one parent left,” I said, measuring my tone, rationing my patience. “I might not even have the one, depending on whether Baylor Wilde is dead or alive. I highly doubt I’d trust him, either way.”
Aphrodite reached forward, pushing the tip of her finger into the heart-shaped indentation in my amulet. I could feel the warmth of her touch even through the metal, the cloth of my shirt.
“But doesn’t it make you wonder?” she asked. “Sylvain’s affection for green leaves and plant life, despite his status as Prince of Autumn. Your affinity for commanding guardians when there is no record of summoners possessing such an ability. Does this not strike you as strange?”
