“Let’s see, someone I love just died, and a friend is injured. You helped with that one, so thanks, but still it hasn’t been a good time.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said.
“You’re not going to run?” Pen asked quickly and with more conviction than she felt. “Honestly, I didn’t really think you’d be here.”
“I know we need to talk. The gods know it been long overdue.”
He tried to smile again, probably trying to lighten the mood, causing several new wrinkles to crease around his eyes.
He wore animal hides, perfect for blending into the forest. She wondered if he felt out of place in the city too.
Pen tried to speak, but any greeting she came up with died on her tongue.
Finally, she was able to force out, “I watched you die. I was there.”
“I know,” Tyndareus said. “I have a lot of things to explain—”
“Are you a god?” Pen asked cutting him off. “Are you actually Maniodes? Because that would be a good start.”
He blinked and looked away, clearly surprised, but she could tell he had been expecting that one.
“Yes,” he admitted.
Pen’s heart raced, and a million questions flooded her mind. Questions along with several reactions. There was mainly anger at the whole situation. Anger that he hid for so long, but also for making his actions of following her so obvious. Anger that he faked his death, that all of it meant nothing now.
Resentment took over.
“Did you know what I was?” she asked in a hitched voice. “Did you know this blood magic was in me? That’s why you trained me to fight, encouraged me to be clever. Was my mother like this too? Are there more like me? More people connected to the Warrior line? Was I some kind of experiment?”
He was taken aback then, even hurt.
“No,” he insisted, taking a step closer.
Her heart jumped to her throat, and she backed away.
He froze, hand outstretched, and appearing even wounded at her reaction.
“You were never an experiment, but I knew what you’d be before you were born,” he confessed. “I knew,” he admitted, “but my Blood Warrior line was dying, and I wanted to strengthen it. I had been following Hamia’s children, and theirs, and so on. Watching the family grow and spread. I loved every single one of them. When the world turned on the Warriors, granted for decent reasons, I was terrified you’d be wiped out. And yet, Leda and her father survived. They were connected through a distant uncle and his unknown bastard son.
“They had no idea who they were related to. No one knew they even existed, but the power survived in them, in Leda’s father. His name was Melanthius, by the way, your grandfather. I was there when it awoke in him. A small string of blood rose from his wrist as he scratched what he thought was a bug bite, and it terrified him. He never used the power and never told anyone. I don’t think he knew what it was. If he did, I don’t think he would have disowned Leda.”
“He disowned his own daughter?” Pen asked. She couldn’t imagine any scenario where she’d even do that to Alard.
Her father nodded. “For being with child outside of wedlock.”
“So, I was just a means to an end, and so was she,” Pen accused. “You just wanted to strengthen your precious Warrior’s line.”
“Don’t make it sound like I’m some vile monster going about impregnating women,” he spat. “I loved your mother, and you, Pen. The Blood Warriors were the only thing connecting me to humanity, you were all my family. I didn’t want to lose that. Yes, that makes me sound selfish, but I loved your mother for the entire family’s sake, as well as yours.”
He stopped then, practically panting after all that.
Pen watched him for a lie. She wasn’t great at reading people, only pissing them off, but she knew her loved ones. She could always tell when Arch or Raisa was upset even when they tried to hide it. It had been the same with her father too. When you lived with someone that long, you learned their silent means of conversation.
As a child, Pen noticed that whenever her father lied, he’d look down for a split second before meeting the person’s eye again. That hadn’t happened once during this explanation.
“If you loved me,” Pen said, “why did you leave? Why fake your death?”
“We didn’t exactly fake it,” he confessed.
“We?”
“Nyx came to me because of that infection. I asked her to keep an eye on you, but she couldn’t let me die. She couldn’t lose another son.”
Pen nearly broke then, thinking of Alard and how she tried to bring him back.
“So, she healed me but said I still had to ‘die’,” he continued, making air quotes around last word. “She waited until you buried me, with an illusion of the wound, then she dug me up.”
“Why not come back then?” Her voice was uneven.
He paused but said, “Nyx wanted me to live as a mortal man. Dying is a part of that. She couldn’t bring herself to let her son go, which I’m grateful for, obviously, but she still wanted me to theoretically ‘die’ to accomplish that too. She made it part of my punishment for having you.”
“You could have told me everything anyway. We could have kept it quiet from Nyx,” she shouted. “I would have believed you. I trusted you!”
“I know I should have done something, but she could have found out. After so long, though, I did start bending the rules, like at the lake.”
He came forward again taking her shoulders. She hadn’t realized until then how much she was shaking. She wanted nothing more than to just let her papa hold her, but the resentment was too strong. She pulled away, shoving his hands aside.
“Talk!” she barked.
He froze, hands partially raised. He lowered them now, and his head, but continued.
“If I showed myself right away, I would have had to explain everything to everyone, mainly Arch’s family, because you were still with them. I thought I’d wait. I didn’t like it, but we needed time to pass. I knew you’d be furious, but it was the best plan.
“I kept an eye on you the whole time, planning to come back after a year, and I saw how happy you were. I didn’t want to ruin that. So, I thought a year and a half would be okay, then two years. And then Alard was born, and I thought that complicated things. He was a beautiful little boy, Pen.”
She did break then, but kept still as tears rolled down her face. Memories flooded in of the stories she’d tell Alard of his grandfather.
His hand rose toward her, but he caught himself before trying to touch her again.
“Do you want me to just keep talking?”
Pen nodded.
He cleared his throat and gathered his thoughts again.
“After the … incident, when your powers awoke, I knew I had stalled for too long. If I had been there, I could have told you what was happening. I could have taken you to a safe place so no one would be hurt. Pen, I’m so sorry.”
“And after?” she asked with clipped words. “That would have been the perfect fucking time.”
“I didn’t see it happen,” he said. “I was probably hunting, but I found their graves and your cottage. I knew then what happened.”
“You could have tracked me,” she said.
“I tried, but I taught you too well about hiding in the wilderness. I tried to find you, but it was like you vanished. Until the lake in the western cliffs.”
“That was just happenstance?!” she asked shocked.
“Aye, it was. I heard the ruckus you were making by throwing the rocks into the water. I followed the sound.”
“That was you?!” she shouted. “We were alone, isolated, we could have talked!”
He faltered.
“Well?” she pressed. “I thought you were a hallucination. I thought I was losing my mind. And then Phaos shows up claiming it was him.”
“I’m sorry,” was all he said.
She shoved him, her anger seething again, and she had to do something other than stand ther
e.
“Why not then?!” she screamed.
He swallowed but confessed. “I was afraid. It had been so long. I … I didn’t know what to say or even how to continue. So, I fell into the same routine of watching over you.”
She could only stare at him, astonished as rage shook through her.
“You were scared,” she whispered, then louder said, “You were scared of me?”
“It’s a bad excuse, I know.”
Pen backed away from him and paced around the room. She made sure to always keep him in her sights, though.
She didn’t know what to do or even how to react. She wanted to punch him but hug him at the same time.
She didn’t even know what to call him. Should she stick to the name she always knew, Tyndareus, or his real godly name?
“Pen.” He went to catch her arm.
“Don’t!” She pulled away. “You were scared of me!”
“It was the entire situation, not just you.”
“And for good reason it seems.”
Pen spun towards the new voice, heart jumping to her throat, and she drew her blood then. A curved dagger formed into her hand, and a tendril reached to her right hand sprouting a second blade.
“See? You’re not exactly inviting,” Phaos said.
He just stood in the archway leading to her bedroom, perfectly calm.
She heard her father groan beside her. “Not the best time.”
“I promised I wouldn’t interfere unless it got dangerous, like in the woods with her little trap, and she just summoned two blades,” he gestured to her in frustration.
“Only after you startled her,” Tyndareus said. “Pen isn’t a danger.”
Phaos studied her, and Pen couldn’t move under that gaze, so she glared right back. She tried to move one foot back, to gain ground, but it wouldn’t move.
Panic started to settle in then as she tensed her entire leg trying to make it move.
Phaos blinked, and Pen’s foot suddenly did twitch back, but she stumbled.
Tyndareus saw her right herself, then glared at Phaos again.
“Do not do that to her!” he barked.
“It was only a precaution,” Phaos defended, raising his hands. “She did trap me last time.”
“I don’t care,” Tyndareus growled.
“What did he do?” Pen asked.
“He can petrify anyone with his gaze.”
“It doesn’t work perfectly on you, though,” Phaos said watching her and took a step closer. “Can you move right now?”
Again his cold yellow eyes met hers, and she was frozen. She focused on her right arm trying to raise it, but it only twitched, then moved slowly like in a dream. At least she still held the daggers. As she focused on them, she remembered how she was able to grab Nyx’s bone safely. It wasn’t affected by her soul drawing power.
“Phaos, stop this,” Tyndareus pleaded.
“It’s not hurting her. It’s just an experiment.”
“I’m not an experiment!” she shouted.
She gave up on her arm and turned to her blood. The daggers melted and formed a large arrow connected to her left hand.
Phaos’s gaze turned to shock and fear. Now Pen met his eye and shot the arrow forward.
“Pen, no!” Tyndareus shouted.
Phaos jumped back reaching for his glowing sword, but Pen stopped the arrow an inch from his heart.
“I can move this,” Pen said calmly, wiggling the arrow before drawing it back. “What are you doing here now?”
Phaos stiffened. “You don’t get to demand anything from me.”
“Well, I’m a demigod, not just a boring mortal,” Pen said. “That doesn’t grant me some privileges, uncle?”
“Pen, lower the arrow,” Tyndareus pleaded. “You can’t kill him anyway with it.”
“I bet it would still hurt,” she said remembering how he flinched.
“He was helping me track you,” he said. “We’ve both been following you. He promised to stay out of this unless there was any danger, and there wasn’t until he showed up anyway.”
“You’ve always been blind to your daughter’s temper,” Phaos said as a defense.
“And you’re not with Leander?” Tyndareus accused.
“I’m thinking of Furos,” he barked. “You saw what he became, what he did. I was blind to that.”
Pen pulled the arrow back another inch unconsciously. She could only imagine the temper of the god of war, Leander, but she knew the stories of Furos. How he killed his mother and tore through mountains, killing hundreds of people.
She hadn’t been proving them wrong either about her own anger.
She melted the arrow back into her hand. She couldn’t bring herself to apologize aloud, but she tried to relax.
“I’m not a danger like that,” she said.
“Not yet,” Phaos accused. “This is why we’ve been watching you. And it’s exactly what I mean by you earning our trust. It hasn’t exactly been working.”
“That isn’t needed,” Tyndareus defended.
Pen looked to him. Her father watched Phaos with conviction and frustration.
“I’m glad you’re alive,” she admitted, drawing his attention and surprising herself.
He turned to her and beamed. Some unease remained, and now there were even tears in his eyes.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there,” he sighed.
“Me too,” she said.
He moved to embrace her.
“I’m still pissed,” she said stopping him.
He paused but nodded, still smiling a bit.
“That’s sweet and all,” Phaos said, demanding her attention again, “but I need your word about something, Pen.”
“What?” Pen sighed. She wanted nothing more than to just go to sleep and awaken to a new day without this madness. The entire past week had been draining.
“Phaos—” her father tried to interrupt.
“We will call on you,” Phaos said still just watching Pen closer than she liked. “I have to talk some things over with the others, but when we do contact you again, I expect a swift answer.”
“Answer about what?” Pen asked. “I’m not promising to anything that vague.”
“It’s in regards to the other Blood Warriors, and you do seem to be accepting that role.”
“That’s none of your business,” Pen barked.
“It is when it affects my people.” His tone broached no further argument.
“So, what is it that I need to promise?” Pen asked arguing anyway. “That I’ll play nice?”
“As I said, we will contact you in time.”
Before Pen could demand more from him, he morphed into a hawk and flew out the window.
“What the fuck was that?” Pen asked rounding on Tyndareus. “What was he talking about?”
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“They don’t entirely trust you, mainly Emera to be honest, because you … caused the death of your family,” he admitted slowly.
Pen’s fists shook. If Phaos was still here, she’d probably punch him.
“Look,” her father said turning to her, “I know that wasn’t your fault. If you want, blame me, because I should have warned you about all of that.”
Pen couldn’t reply. Her heart beat too hard, and she wanted to hit something.
She saw him hesitate to say more but he continued, “There is something I need to take care of—”
“So, you’re just going to run off again too?”
“No,” Tyndareus insisted. “I just … I do have to finish something, find someone.”
“Who?”
“Our brother,” he said looking towards the window Phaos flew out of. “His name is Lumeon.”
Some of her anger melted into confusion, but she couldn’t deny the curiosity too. “You have another brother? There’s another god?”
“Yes, but he’s been missing for some time. We just want to make sure he’s all right.”
“Can I do anything to help find him?” Pen offered, fascinated that there was another god in general.
“You have enough on your plate,” he said. “And you look like you’re about to pass out. Are you okay?”
“No,” she admitted. “But if you need any help, let me know. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to stay in the city, but I don’t want to just lose contact again.”
He smiled and moved to hug her but stopped. Pen saw how unsure he was, and she didn’t blame him, given how she’d backed away a few times.
Pen closed the distance and hugged her father, trying to not cry from the exhaustion.
Chapter Forty Eight
Pen
The froth slid back down the inside of her mug back into the ale. It was only half empty, though they’d been sitting here for hours just drinking and talking, mostly drinking.
Raisa was buried. Palrig found a nice plot in the cemetery for her. Once her coffin was lowered and covered with earth, Pen and the others just went back home.
Pen tipped the mug back again to watch the froth slide. She tried to not feel anything, sick of being sad all the time.
The familiar blanket of morose grief clung to her. It had never left, but now it constricted around her chest.
Now and then she’d look up to Drivas. The same grief was in her eyes, but anger tinged the edges. She was more responsive than Pen, which Pen was glad for. At least she was talking to Palrig. They sat right next to her, but she didn’t hear anything, letting the words rush over her.
It wasn’t until someone reached over and took her mug that she came back to reality.
Palamedes sat across the narrow kitchen table holding her mug. He watched her react and cocked an eyebrow. His bandages were hidden by his tunic, but Pen was still very much aware of them. He nearly died too, helping her.
“Ready to come back to us?” he asked.
“I didn’t go anywhere,” she protested.
“You haven’t said a word all day.”
“Well, I just did now. Happy?”
Pen sat back, letting him keep the mug.
Drivas was watching her now, probably surprised that she’d finally spoken.
“Sorry,” Pen said to her, though she didn’t know how to continue.
“You want to leave again,” Drivas said surprising her.
Grief of the Undying (The Ichorian Epics Book 3) Page 27