Page 13 of Dark as the Cursed Abyss

No one dared speak in return.

Her aunt had not asked it of them yet.

“I expected more of you and certainly expected you, niece, to be accompanied by someone more accomplished.”

Chloe’s jaw clenched and her lip curled slightly. What a bitch. She was as accomplished as any in court, besides her brothers, but they were too chicken to step foot ashore these lands.

“But most of all”—Avra paused for a moment, cocking her head to the side, eyes widening and mouth thinning from that lurid grin—“I did not expect to see her.”

Everyone turned toward where Avra stared, locked in a trance with the southern princess.

The queen leaned forward and whispered, “You look so much like him.”

Clutching the hilt of her still sheathed sword, Farah stiffened. “I look nothing like my father,” she ground out in a scathing tone.

The smile returned to Avra’s lips and she stood, striding slowly across the room toward Farah. Pounding filled Chloe’s ears and she questioned whether she should endure the wrath of her aunt and step between them or if the woman meant no harm. Or at least no harm at this moment.

When the queen finally approached, she placed both hands on Farah’s cheeks and the princess attempted to recoil. “Not your father, you poor girl.”

She moved her gaze over Farah’s skin, taking in every bit of her. A thumb grazed over Farah’s jawline, and the princess audibly inhaled a sharp breath.

“Thea, please, you are frightening said poor girl,” Chloe finally said, cutting the tension in the room.

Sighing, Avra released her grip and took a step back. “You certainly are your mother’s daughter, anipsiá. I meant no harm.”

Chloe stepped closer to the southern princess, quickly glancing down to see if she’d heeded Chloe’s warning and donned the thin silver band. “You always mean harm, Avra, unless it suits you more than those you wish ill will against.”

“And what are those particular words supposed to imply, dearest?” Avra waved her hand off and turned to head back to the dais, settling on her throne once more, this time with a more casual pose.

She might as well get the conversation over with. The sooner they dealt with Avra and fought past her needless requests, the sooner they could return to Nexos, army and fleet hopefully in tow. “That it is possible if a certain kingdom offered you something you wanted that you would spurn your own family—perhaps even the whole of Odessia.”

A sharp laughter boomed in the great hall. “Do you think so little of me? That I would turn my back against my own people? Against my sister?”

“I do.”

Behind Chloe, she could hear the captain snicker under her breath. This was no laughing matter. Avra despised her family, Giselle the most of all. It was the reason she was married to such a heinous god and apparently the reason her first born was dead.

Fiddling with her rings, Avra asked, “So, what have you come here to offer me?” Around and around her fingers spun, one in particular catching Chloe’s eye.

Three, thin golden bands adorned in diamonds and culminating with an emerald as large as the space between her knuckles. The ring from Iris’s vision.

“We have not come here to offer you anything. Hades is on the brink of being risen, as you well know by this time. King Edmund of Harrenfort and King Athanas of Morentius are set to stage war with the Olympi’s aid. The entire Mykandrian will fall to bloodshed as it did a century ago if we do not stand up for justice and peace. We are asking you for aid.”

Eyes flaring and glittering with the flame of the candelabra beside her, Avra shifted in her seat. “And if I don’t offer that aid? What then?”

“You just said you would not turn your back against your people!” Farah yelled, out of turn. Chloe reached her hand out, gripping the princess’s arm before she could storm toward the dais.

“Maybe I lied. Young girl, your father can be very convincing. He offered me something, something I have wanted for a very, very long time.” A shadowy, hooded figure came up from behind the dais, stepping beside Avra and placing a hand on her shoulder.

Fuck. Had Khalid really beat them here? Had Avra forgiven the man?

“Look at all your faces,” Avra laughed, “terrified. You most of all, Princess. Afraid of your own father. Tsk Tsk.”

The figure lowered its—his—hood. Standing beside the queen was a young man, around the height of Alexander, maybe a bit taller. He was more broad and his skin was as equally pale as Chloe’s aunt, so were his eyes, the same eyes Giselle and Chloe both bore. His hair, however, resembled her uncle, Halius. Deep crimson locks flowed back in braids down his back. It was the guard from outside the palace, the one who had let them into the inner city. How had she not seen it, even behind the mask?

“May I formally introduce Acacius, my son.”

Chapter Ten