by Morgan Rice
He placed a hand underneath her chin and lifted it so she had no other place to look but into his eyes.
And all of a sudden it was as if all the air had vanished from around her and she felt warm, warmer than she had ever felt.
His dark eyes flicked to her lips, and some unseen force drew her to him, pulling her away from her resolve to stay away, pulling her away from Rexus and all she had ever held dear.
With a soft smile, he lifted a hand and stroked her cheek, and Ceres could not for the life of her look away. He leaned forward, his lips finding her throat, so soft.
She took in a staggered breath while her hands knitted through his thick dark curls. She found his lips, warm, soft, and she moved hers across his, slowly, tingles spreading through her, and all that had ever been and all that was, was no more.
“Thanos!” Ceres heard, a female voice, bringing her back to reality.
She turned her head to see Stephania standing there, her lips pinched together tightly, tears in her eyes.
Thanos gave Stephania a hard glare.
“The king needs to see you,” Stephania snapped.
“Can’t it wait?” Thanos asked.
“No, it is of an urgent matter,” Stephania said.
Thanos exhaled a slow breath, an expression of disappointment in his eyes. He stood up and bowed toward Ceres.
“Until next time,” he said, and marched back toward the library.
Feeling quite embarrassed, Ceres rose to her feet and was about to leave, but Stephania stepped in her way, eyes seething.
“You will stay away from Thanos, you hear? Just because you are dressed as royalty doesn’t mean you are one. You have nothing but commoner blood running through your veins.”
“I…” Ceres started, but she was interrupted.
“I know Thanos likes you, but soon he will grow tired of you the way he does every commoner. And once you have given him what he wants, he will throw you out of the palace just like he did the other girls.”
Ceres didn’t believe Stephania for one second.
“If he has so many other girls, why do you want to marry him?” she asked.
“I don’t have to explain myself to a lowlife like you. Stay away from my future husband, or I will find a way to make you disappear, do you understand?”
Stephania started back toward the library, but then she turned to face Ceres again.
“And just so you know,” she said, “I will be telling the queen about all that I saw.”
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Thanos paced nervously back and forth outside of Ceres’s door, his hands sweaty, his throat dry, his armor too restrictive and hot. Nothing felt right. Nothing was right. Although he realized he had no choice other than to accept his uncle’s orders, he knew Ceres would not understand and that she would be hurt and quite possibly hate him for it. And the worst part was, she would be in the right to do so. Even he despised himself for agreeing to do as his uncle had commanded, and he wished there was some way out of this nightmare of a predicament.
Thanos wiped the sweat beading on his brow, and cursed silently.
It was idiotic to pace about here like a drunken fool, he knew, for the king had commanded him to leave immediately, so there was no time. But Ceres deserved the truth from him even if it would cause a mountain of a rift between them. Even if his greatest fear came true—that she would never want to see him again.
Never.
He squeezed his eyes shut as the horror of that thought settled in. And then he realized there was another reason he was here. A huge part of him needed to see her again, in the event he was killed.
He shouldn’t think of matters he had no control over, he reprimanded himself.
He gritted his teeth and knocked on the door, and once the new handmaiden opened, he stepped inside.
Right when Ceres saw him, her face went pale.
“Thank you for freeing Anka and for allowing me to have her as my handmaiden,” Ceres said.
He glanced at the girl and nodded toward Ceres.
“Of course. Ceres, may I have a word?” he asked.
Thanos noted that Ceres’s shoulders went tense, and an unsettled look in her eyes verified she knew something was terribly wrong.
“Of course,” Ceres said.
“Perhaps we can take a walk,” he said.
They went into the hallway and climbed the stairs to the rooftop, a warm breeze tugging at his hair. From here, Thanos could see the entire capital, houses built as if on top of each other, and he could even hear the riots on the streets.
He stopped at the veranda and faced Ceres. She was so beautiful, he thought, her white dress blowing in the wind, her strawberry blonde hair moving with the breeze. But it wasn’t her beauty that made him adore her so. It was her thirst for life and learning, and the passion she carried for the people and things she loved.
He took a deep breath and looked her in the eyes before he spoke.
“King Claudius has ordered the royal army to annihilate the rebellion,” he said.
Her lips squeezed together ever so slightly, and she turned away from him, looking across the city.
“Was that what the note was about?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“And since you are in your armor, I assume you will be one of the ones enacting the king’s orders,” she said.
He didn’t want to say, the words feeling like molasses in his throat.
“I wish I didn’t have to, but I have no choice, Ceres,” he said.
“One always has a choice.”
Her voice was flat, but it was greatly constrained, he could hear, and he knew with certainty all she wanted to do was scream at him.
“How can you say I have a choice? You have no idea what it’s like to live beneath the king, his eyes always scrutinizing you, the threat of death always looming around the corner.”
“My brothers are out there!” she yelled, tears welling up in her eyes. “My friend Rexus. Will you kill them if you see them? Will you slay the very ones I love?”
His chest filled with a dull ache, seeing her upset, when all he wanted to do was to make her smile and make her feel safe.
“I realize you are angry—” he said.
“Because they are my people!” she shouted. “They are your people, too, Thanos. Can’t you see you are fighting for a corrupt king, for oppression? Is that what you really want?”
Clenching his fist, he remained silent.
“You will be fighting against exactly what it is you yourself are trying to escape. Don’t you see?” she said.
He knew she was right, but he had to do this or the king would have no qualms about throwing them both back into the dungeon, like he had threatened when Thanos tried to object.
He gripped the railing, clutching until his knuckles turned white.
“I have to do what I don’t want to get the things I desire more.”
She stood rigid as a board, her beautiful emerald eyes widening, her mouth open in shock.
“What more could you possibly want than for your freedom and for the freedom of your people?” she asked.
“You!” he said.
Ceres’s eyes turned conflicted and tears welled up in her eyes. She exhaled a breath and gazed downward, wrapping her arms around her waist as if doing so would protect her heart somehow.
“I need to leave now. I just wanted to inform you where I went before I disappeared,” he said.
“Don’t go. Please,” she whispered, her hands falling limp at her sides, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry, Ceres. I have to.”
Her face morphed into a dozen shades of sadness and she let out a cry.
“If you do this, I won’t ever talk to you again,” she said, her voice shaky and not quite certain. “That’s…that’s a promise!”
He watched her run away, and although Thanos wanted nothing more than to go after her and take her in his arms, kiss her tenderly, he found his feet immovable. He stood quiet f
or a moment, anger and shame washing through him.
In order to save himself, he was about to give up all that he loved.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Thanos rode toward General Draco, passing tent after tent, passing tens of thousands of Empire soldiers peppering the Alva Mountains, and he did nothing to hide the animosity in his eyes. The despicable general stood for everything that was wrong with the Empire. In fact, he hated the corrupt man just as much as he hated his uncle; perhaps even more. It was rumored, after all, that General Draco was the one who had killed Thanos’s parents.
Thanos finally arrived and dismounted his horse and strode across the scorched grass toward the silver-haired general. The middle-aged man stood in front of his tent, his red cape waving in the wind, a bandage wrapped around his muscular shoulder above his armor. He had been wounded yesterday when Blackrock Square had been stormed by the rebellion, Thanos had heard. If only that arrow had pierced his black heart.
“Come, my new lieutenant,” General Draco said.
Thanos did not want that title; the king had forced it upon him. And now that the Empire stood between Ceres and him, driving a deep wedge that could destroy any chance he had at being with her, he detested it even more. However, he valued his and Ceres’s life, so he would honor the title until the rebellion had been squashed.
Thanos followed the general inside the tent, where they ended standing around the massive oak strategy table in the middle of the room, a map of Delos and figurines strategically placed upon it.
“Your uncle speaks very highly of your combat and strategy skills, Thanos. I hope you will live up to your reputation.” The general spoke in a rushed manner.
Thanos said nothing.
“The rebellion has grown out of hand, and we must squelch it today,” General Draco said. “The rebels attacked Fountain Square today, as we suspected they would, and at this very moment, Empire soldiers are forcing them out of the piazza, northward. The instant you leave this tent, you will lead a company of one hundred and twenty men to the north side of Fountain Square, to here.”
The general pointed to the map.
“You will capture or kill the leaders of the rebellion, and bring them back to camp dead or alive.”
Thanos’s heart groaned because he knew anyone brought back alive would be tortured to death. It would be more merciful to kill them all, he thought, although he didn’t want to do that either.
“This mission must not fail, and due to the king’s high recommendation, I requested you for this task,” the general said.
“I understand,” Thanos said.
“And just in case you need motivation, your uncle told me to inform you, if you do not succeed on this mission, he will have Ceres thrown into the dungeon, and she will be used as bait in the next Killings.”
*
With one hundred and twenty Empire soldiers and four wagons of weapons in tow, Thanos arrived about a mile north of Fountain Square, at the very street where the Empire soldiers would steer the rebels. He ordered his men to stack weapons in abandoned houses, set up traps on the streets, and carry the firepots onto the rooftops.
Thanos climbed to the roof with two dozen Empire soldiers, while the others hid inside houses behind closed shutters to wait for the revolutionaries to pass by. He stood there, pacing, waiting, hating himself more with every minute that passed.
Hardly five minutes passed when Thanos heard the first set of horse hooves pounding against the cobblestones. Still fraught with conflict about his mission, detesting how he was being used as a pawn in the king’s game, he lit the tip of his arrow and waited for the revolutionaries to come galloping around the corner. He could not rebel outwardly against the king, he knew; and yet he could find a way to do minimal damage to the rebels, and especially to those closest to Ceres.
Within seconds, four men on horses dashed by, their blue ensigns waving in the wind. Before they could pass, they were shot down with arrows from other Empire soldiers, and fell wounded in the street.
Thanos’s arrow was still in his bow. Sweat trickled down his cheek.
Quickly, the rebels were snatched up by eight Empire soldiers and thrown into a slaver cart to be taken back to the camp for questioning.
This isn’t right, Thanos thought. He knew he had no choice but to slaughter them.
Or did he? Could he save these men and women they were ordered to attack?
A group of nineteen came next, and just as they rode past Thanos, the Empire soldiers on the rooftops tilted the firepots, the hot oil drenching the revolutionaries. Their shrieks pierced Thanos’s heart, and he had to look away from the writhing bodies on the streets. Once the hot oil had cooled, all nineteen were thrown into a slaver cart to be taken back to camp.
Just as the Empire soldiers had finished clearing the streets, hiding the evidence of the attack, another small group of riders came galloping toward them.
“Rexus!” Thanos heard one of the men yell.
Immediately, Thanos remembered Ceres had mentioned that name when they had spoken on the rooftop of the palace, and his gaze scanned the revolutionaries.
A muscular blond man turned his horse around and steered it to the side of the street, waving.
Behind the small group rode a slew of revolutionaries, but before they arrived at the attack site, Thanos killed the flame on his arrow, hopped down from the roof and into an alleyway, lying in wait for Rexus to pass by.
Before Rexus came close enough, a mob of Empire soldiers stormed out from the houses and started slaying the revolutionaries.
Rexus, Thanos could see, startled at the surprise attack, but quicker than eyes could follow, Rexus pulled one arrow after another from his quiver, shooting his enemies down, killing every single one he shot.
Once his arrows had been depleted, Rexus hopped down from his horse and pulled his sword, slicing Empire soldiers down left and right with the speed and precision of a combatlord, Thanos saw.
Thanos dashed out from the alleyway and tore after Rexus, his sword held high, pretending he was going to attack. He wanted to get to the young man before anyone else had a chance to slay him dead.
He snuck up behind Rexus and wrapped an iron arm around his neck, and with a hand clasped around the young man’s mouth, Thanos dragged him into the dimness of the alleyway.
But Rexus was strong, and he wrestled out of Thanos’s grasp, drawing his sword.
Thanos held his hands out in front of him and dropped his sword to the ground.
“I mean you no harm!” he yelled, retreating deeper into the shadows, hoping Rexus would follow.
Rexus slashed at him with a force that had Thanos hopping backwards, frightened he had made a mistake and that this could be his last hour. Rexus lunged and spun around, whirling like a tornado after Thanos, the sword slicing through the air, making a swooshing sound.
“Ceres told me you were her friend!” Thanos said. “I want to help you!”
Rexus paused for a moment, staying his sword.
“This is a trap,” he said.
“No. She was worried about you. She knew I would fight, and she mentioned her brothers. She mentioned you.”
Rexus hesitated.
“Stay here and you will not be killed,” Thanos said.
“I won’t leave my men out there to die!” Rexus growled.
Of course he wouldn’t, and Thanos should have known that. But he was doing this on the fly, with no time to plan.
As quick as a flash, Thanos snatched an arrow from his quiver and shot Rexus’s sleeve, the arrow wedging into the wall behind Rexus, confining him.
The distraction gave Thanos just enough time to dash behind Rexus and knock him on the head with the hilt of his sword.
Rexus fell to the ground unconscious and Thanos exhaled a breath of relief. He might not be able to save everyone, Thanos knew, but at least he had saved one of Ceres’s friends’ lives.
Thanos climbed back onto the rooftop and looked down toward the street.
Many Empire soldiers had fallen—many more than he thought would. He saw the opportunity to save the revolutionaries, yet to make it look like he had made the best decision for his own men. No one would blame him for retreating if he judged that his men were being butchered, losing sorely.
“Empire soldiers retreat!” he shouted. “Retreat immediately!”
A few of the Empire soldiers looked up with questions in their eyes, but Thanos knew they would follow his orders. Empire soldiers were trained to obey no matter the command.
The soldiers on the rooftops trickled down one after another, heading toward the wagons, and the soldiers battling the revolutionaries in the streets and inside houses retreated toward the wagons while fighting the enemy off.
Seeing his men were safe, Thanos was just about to join them, but then a faint sound behind him caught his attention. He glanced back to see a young revolutionary, a sword in one hand, a spear in the other.
Thanos drew his sword and took a step toward the man.
“I have no desire to harm you,” he said.
Screaming, the young man came at Thanos, the tip of the spear pointing straight toward Thanos’s heart.
Thanos spun around and hacked the spear out of his opponent’s hand. The young man slashed, but missed, and before the young man could withdraw his arm, Thanos had sliced it open.
“I do not wish to kill you!” Thanos said again, taking a cautious step back. “Walk away and you will live.”
“Anything from an Empire soldier’s mouth is a lie!” the young man said.
The young man cried out and his jaw clenched, and in no time he was back at Thanos, jabbing.
“I know you are Prince Thanos!” the young man said, stabbing toward him.
“Correct. And who are you?” Thanos asked, blocking.
“That I will tell you once I have run my sword through you,” the young man said.
“I must warn you, I have yet to lose a duel.”
The young man’s eyebrows rose, no fear present in his face.
“There must always be a first!” he yelled.
The young man sped toward Thanos, their swords crashing then, a power struggle, blade against blade. Shoving with a roar, Thanos pushed him away, but the young man was at him again. He was powerful, Thanos noticed, rage, anger, and passion for his cause probably fueling his strength.