by Kate Kelley
Once, twice, three times. She raised the scissors and struck him violently, screaming with each swing of the tool.
His eyes widened in shock as his body jolted with each stab, and the corner of his feeble mouth dribbled dark blood. Lyra’s heart eased as she watched the life drain from him.
She stood and swung toward Ganymede. He smiled at her as if she had brought him a present. She screamed and lunged at him with the scissors, stabbing down forcibly. She struck the wall, leaving a coin-sized hole in the stone. She tugged it out and turned around to see Ganymede clapping slowly behind her. She lunged again and ran into the table, the bag of tools clattering to the marble floor. Ganymede sprawled on the bed, his hands behind his head in relaxation.
“Ahhhhh!” she screamed and jumped at him again. Her scissors pierced through the mattress as Ganymede disappeared again. She wouldn’t win against him. She thought of the Blue Lady’s words. “...grab it and slice your wrists. You’ll only get one chance.”
The scissors were swept out of her hands, as if suctioned by the air, and she grabbed at them as they flew into Ganymede’s hand.
“I keep telling them to stop bringing these in,” Ganymede tsked as if studied the scissors covered in the old man’s blood. He swished his hand and the object vanished. He crossed to the table and wiped his hands on the white sheet.
Lyra hands bled onto the floor, dripping thickly in splatters. She looked at the slice across her palm, and wished she had slit deeper.
“Ah, let’s clean you up, now,” Ganymede said softly as he crossed to her, stepping over the dead old man.
“I killed your man. Aren’t you going to punish me?” Lyra’s voice came out hoarse and her throat hurt from the screaming.
Ganymede flattened his hand to her wounded one and when he lifted it, the slit was gone. He swiped the sheet from the bed and wiped the blood from her hand gently. “He’s replaceable. He was old, anyhow. He’s rather a lucky man to have lived so fully and for so long.”
Lyra eyed the old man, his eyes still wide in shock, his face graying as the blood drained from his body. Her knees buckled.
Ganymede grabbed her and gently held her to him. Lyra quaked violently until she turned away and emptied the contents of her stomach over the bed. It was clear fluid, but still burned her throat and nose.
Ganymede rubbed her back as she retched and dry heaved. When she was done, he lifted her limp body and carried her out of the room to what resembled a wash room, except it was huge and the bathtub could fit three men. He sat her down on a tufted chair and ran the bath, adding lavender oils to the water. Lyra shook still, focusing on the water as the white noise lulled her mind into a blank space where it could rest from the trauma.
When the water stopped, Ganymede crossed to her and began undressing her. Lyra feebly fought but Ganymede continued, easily overpowering her. When she was naked, he lifted her and laid her in the bath, then crossed to the chair and dragged it to the side of the tub. He watched her as she curled her knees in and hugged herself. The warmth of the water enveloped her and after awhile, the shivering ceased.
“I know that you think I’m the bad man. That I want to hurt you. That I want to kill you. But you couldn’t’ be more wrong.”
Lyra’s eyes slowly dragged to his and she watched him as he spoke.
He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, leaning back. “It’s hard to explain the universe to someone so young. I’ve been alive only three thousand years, which may seem old to you, but is such an infinitesimal span of years in the ancient life of the cosmos.”
Lyra stared at him, the fight all but lost in her.
Ganymede leaned forward. “I spent my former years as a mage wasting time. In those days, mages were everywhere, and the class system was our way of life. I was on the bottom tier, as just a ground mage. I could grow vegetables and fruit, will life into the seeds, and so my hands were always dirty. I sold my vegetables and fruit at the market and my coin went to my sick mother, for her medicine. She was a dormant, you see. One day, the King passed through. I still remember his presence, like gold come to life. His powers were exceptional. He stopped at my cart, of all places, and bit into an apple I had grown. He said it was the best tasting apple he had ever had, and so he brought me to court to be a gardener. I met more powerful mages there, and began practicing my skill. I got better, but there isn’t much more to learn when your powers are so limited, you see.” His eyes flicked to hers for a moment.
Lyra sat still.
“I fell in with some druids who promised to increase my power, but I refused at the time. I felt their practices were too savage. It wasn’t until I was about one hundred years old that I began using their practice. It returned me to a youthful body,” he gestured to his form, “and it increased my power.”
Lyra clutched her ankles. “What was the practice?”
“Taking familiars. I’m sure you know what that means.”
“Draining power from a magical creature to use as your own,” she whispered.
Ganymede nodded slowly. “I didn’t drain my familiars, mind you, and it was always consensual. I offered a lot in return. I kept them comfortable and well-fed.”
His face fell as he averted his eyes. He touched his fingertip to the surface of the bath water, the ripples echoing around the action. “I lost control, got lost in the power a few hundred years after that. I discovered Eclipsa but it took several hundred years after that before I could use it. When I figured out how to open it, I did use it. And I discovered I could drain Fae as well, and I sought that distinct power like an addict of opioids. But I reformed--”
“But you killed my parents fifteen years ago.That isn’t such a long time ago,” Lyra reminded him.
Ganymede sat back and looked at her. He was handsome, surely. But his features were almost too perfect, too symmetrical, as if somehow designed by magic.
“My mission had changed at that point. I was looking for someone. I knew she would make me powerful, would give me what I needed. I was led astray again by my--colleague.” He clipped the word out as if he’d almost given something away that he didn’t want her to know.
Lyra stilled her mind, deciding that if he was going to talk, she was going to listen, wait for him to slip and reveal for a clue that could take him down. “And what were you looking for?” Lyra asked, keeping her voice low.
He smiled. “You, of course. The one who could give me what I want--what I needed to rise higher. You’re the key to saving the world.”
Lyra inhaled a ragged breath through her nose. “And how do I factor into that?”
Ganymede lifted his hand toward her and she flinched when he tilted her chin up to study her face. His eyes trailed over her hair, her jaw, her neck. A light sparked in his eyes, a dangerous fire Lyra was sure to burn if it was released.
“You’ll bear me a child.”
Chapter Twenty Six
Lyra clutched the edges of the tub, water sloshing down the sides to pool onto the floor. She shirked away from Ganymede’s touch. He relaxed and leaned back.
Lyra struggled with words. “I won’t let you near me. You
can’t--”
“My healer, before he passed unexpectedly, was examining you to see if you are near ovulation. It appears you are close, but aren’t there yet. As a Fae woman--or half-Fae, rather, you ovulate once a year. So my chance is coming soon and I don’t intend to miss it.”
“Why?” Lyra asked, her voice dipping low.
“An heir is what I require to rise in the ranks. I’ve tried, over the years, to sire an heir. Techni was the closest to being successful, but even he lost his mind. You see, the dark magic inside me is too toxic, too volatile for even the most powerful female mage.”
He suddenly rose and began pacing the floor. “Most of the children I’ve created have died shortly after birth. Those that survived go mad early in their adult lives. I’ve tried Fae women, but they die the instant my seed is in them--they naturally eschew dark
magic, but my seed binds to them and their bodies reject themselves in an attempt to get rid of it. Human women take it like a sickness--take Rhea, Terrin’s late mother, for instance.”
Lyra’s stomach roiled with disgust and she covered her mouth with her hand.
Ganymede took both Terrin’s father and mother.
Ganymede’s hand was back on her chin, and she flinched back, slipping in the tub as she flattened herself against the side.
“You are what I have been looking for. Oh, I’ve found half-Fae, half-mage women before, but the species mixed just right in you so that you can absorb dark magic and use it to power yourself. My Darkling. Our offspring will be the most powerful earthly beings to ever exist.”
The quaking in Lyra started up again but she refused to show her fear. She gestured toward the towel on the back of Ganymede’s chair. He turned and handed it to her, an adoration shining in his eyes. “What do you think?” he asked.
Lyra bit her tongue and stood, toweling off. Ganymede eyed her body, lazily studying her form as if she were a piece of art...or a piece of meat.
She stepped out of the tub and wrapped the towel around herself. “May I go?” she asked stiffly.
Ganymede rose and contemplated her a moment before nodding. She opened the door when Ganymede spoke again. “I don’t want to force you. You came here willingly, remember that. Think on what I’ve said. We could rule together. I’d always treat you well. You’d want for nothing, you’d rise in power with me by your side.”
Lyra stiffened and opened the door, praying he wouldn’t follow.
When she got to her room, she stiffly walked to the armoire and removed a black day dress with long sleeves and hurriedly dressed. It wasn’t until she curled up in bed that the shock returned and the tears came again.
Her head buzzed, and her eyes drifted closed.
✽✽✽
A moment later, she snapped her eyes open and froze. She was no longer in the bed. She was kneeling on the floor...it wasn’t marble. It was soft and fog rolled through it so that it appeared like a cloud.
Her head snapped up and her eyes landed on a man, standing a few feet away from her.
She scrambled to her feet, her breath caught in her throat.
It can’t be…
“Terrin?” Her voice was so small, she was sure he hadn’t heard her. He looked her over, confusion on his brow, then looked around him. Lyra ran to him and threw herself at him, but she passed through him as if he was only a puff of smoke.
Terrin’s brows came together. “Lyra?”
Lyra choked on a sob. “I’m sorry. I should have never returned to Gem. I should have moved far away. Ganymede wouldn’t have attacked your castle. You would still be alive. Tell me, at least, that Gaia let you go to Vanaheimr.” She clasped her hands underneath her chin while tears trailed down her cheeks.
Terrin stilled, gazing into her eyes. “Are you real?” he asked.
“I--I think maybe I died.” She certainly didn’t feel dead but how else could she explain what was happening.
“Who has you right now?” Terrin asked, stepping closer. His hand tried to grab hers, but passed through.
“I was taken to Ganymede’s castle. He’s insane, he’s evil. Edwin is there. I killed a human. An old man. He...he violated me--” She averted her eyes as shame covered her nerves and ended her rambling.
Terrin growled, his eyes flashing. “Who was it?”
“His healer. I stabbed him to death with his own instrument. I tried to kill Ganymede...Terrin, he’s all powerful. He can stop my body from moving, he can move my body at will. I have no powers, no aura at all in his castle.”
He stepped in closer. “Where is it, Lyra? Tell me where it is and I’ll find you.”
Lyra shook her head and tears sprang to her eyes and trailed down her cheeks. Her hands rose to cup his ghostly face. “I’m sorry you’re dead. I failed you. I should have told you a long time ago that I lov--”
“Lyra?” Terrin furrowed his brow and shook his head. “I’m not dead.”
Lyra lowered her hands. Her throat dried. “I saw you stabbed. Edwin said--”
Terrin strode close to her again, inches apart. “Edwin lied. Gods, Lyra. You thought I was dead? Is that why you went willingly? Did they threaten your life?”
Lyra fell to her knees and a fresh wave of tears spilled from her eyes as she choked out a sob. “You’re alive? Thank the gods, you’re alive! But where are we? Is this a vision? A dream?”
Lyra stood up and looked around her again, wiping her eyes with the heels of her shaking hands. It was familiar in some way Lyra couldn’t explain.
“You have to tell me where Ganymede’s castle is so we can find you,” Terrin repeated urgently.
Lyra shook her head. “Edwin drugged me so that I didn’t come to until we were already there. I don’t know how we got in. There are no doors to the outside and no windows. I scoured the place--”
“Think, Lyra, think. There has to be something you remember. Anything.”
Lyra clutched her forehead in her hand. “Wait, there is. I remember seeing a key when I came to. A dark green key in the middle of a blue circle. I’m sorry, that’s all I have.”
Terrin swallowed, rifling his hand through his hair. “Did he hurt you? What does he want? Who is there in the castle?”
“He... hasn’t hurt me directly. Only controlled me, which feels as much a violation as what the healer did. Terrin...he plans to make me bear him a child.”
Terrin inhaled sharply and exhaled a growl as he spun as if to direct his malice elsewhere, cursing as his fists shook.
“I can’t fight him, Terrin.” After a brief moment of silence, she cleared her throat. “Here, take this.” She removed the pendant from around her neck and handed it over. “It doesn’t help me anymore.”
Terrin glanced at it. “No. If anything is going to help you escape, it’s the pendant.”
Lyra shoved it at his chest. “No. It’s just a rock there. Give it to Zuri.”
Terrin scowled and set his jaw. “The Fae didn’t uphold their end of the deal. They don’t get to have the pendant.”
Lyra held it out still. “Give it on good faith for the future of your relationship. Between Ursa and Gem, and...between you and Vale. Don’t ruin your alliance with them or the possibility of marriage. The pendant does me no good where I am. Perhaps Zuri can help you find me with it. Tell her to set in her new crown as a diadem.”
Terrin hesitated a moment before picking it up and putting it around his neck. The brush of his fingertips on hers barely registered as a tickle.
“There aren’t many in the castle. I only saw Edwin, Ganymede, the healer, and some mad woman with blue hair who pops up out of nowhere and bothers me.”
“Are you two quite finished? We’d like to get on with the trial.”
They both turned at once toward the voice, and Lyra startled.
Gaia sat at a white table in the center, with eight gods and goddesses divided up on her left and right, speaking to each other in low tones. Lyra knew they were higher beings because they didn’t look human. Their skin glowed with pastel and jewel-tones, all colors of the spectrum, their eyes somehow ancient, even as their appearances shown generally young bodies. Lyra felt their power even from where she stood.
Terrin squared his shoulders and notched his chin as he faced the table of deities. Lyra noticed Macaria to the right of Gaia. Her eyes were glued to Terrin.
Gaia opened her arms and silence descended. Lyra held her breath.
“Prince Terrin of Gem Kingdom, do you know why you are called here today?”
Terrin inclined his head. “To discuss my involvement in my brother’s accidental death.”
Gaia turned hard eyes onto him and the other deities did the same, their eyes drinking him in.
“You choose your words well,” Gaia commented. “You are correct. As you know, the killing of a royal kin is forbidden, and punishment is condemnation and banishment from
Vanaheimr. I have called together various gods and goddesses of the afterlives. We’ve convened together already and discussed the incident. Half my group believes you are innocent, while the other half believes you are guilty. I will decide the final verdict.”
Macaria stood, her pale yellow hair piled high on her head. She wore emerald green, the deep color complementing her inky black skin. The material of her gown sparkled as if it were procured from the gemstone. Her violet wings were settled and tucked in, the tops curving gracefully behind her back. “We’ve called Lyra, the half-Fae female, as witness. We will hear a statement from her, and a final statement from Terrin before Gaia makes a final decision.”
Lyra swallowed thickly and her hands suddenly clammed up.
Macaria took her seat and Gaia trained her eyes on her again. “We brought you here, Lyra, because you witnessed Terrin’s part in Techni’s death. And because you requested this trial, we thought it appropriate that you be present for it. You may begin your statement.”
Lyra opened her mouth but no words came out.
Gaia had heeded my wishes…
It was humbling, to say the least. She blinked rapidly and stole a glance at Terrin. His jaw was clenched and his nostrils were flared.
He was angry, as was usual.
Their eyes connected and Lyra’s heart broke. If she messed this up, he would be banned from Vanaheimr. She sucked in all the nervousness, all the fear, and blew it out in a breath, her eyes closed in concentration. She remembered Terrin’s pure soul when she was taking her last breath.
When she opened her eyes, she looked directly at each deity, even when some of their gazes were voids to universes they probably built eons ago and gazing into them for too long meant certain loss of one’s mind.
She clasped her hands in front of her and notched her chin. Her voice cracked when she began.