Court of the Phantom Queen

by Liz Meldon

  Athena pushed him away with a laugh. “Hardly. We’re not to work together, don’t you remember?”

  He exhaled irritably. “Goddess—”

  A single blast of a shrill metal horn, one whose cry sent enormous black birds shooting from the forest canopy, signaled the start of the event. With Nocta settled firmly on her shoulder—though a bit distracted by the recent flight of birds—Athena smirked at her Roman soldier before dashing into the trees.

  In the shadows of the many-coloured canopy, the hunters split up almost immediately, scores of gods and humans and fairies shooting this way and that. They were so determined to go the farthest, run the fastest, that they missed what was in plain sight.

  Athena paused just beyond the first tree when something glittering caught her eye. There, at its base, was a small statue of a gold raven, no bigger than her fist. Eighth on her list. Shaking her head, Athena sauntered back for it amidst the shouts and cries and giggles of fellow contestants, tossing it in the brown sack she had been given by the event’s organizers.

  One down. She sliced her nail through the runes in a single motion, scratching it from the parchment. Forty-nine items of the hundreds scattered to go.

  * * *

  Athena had managed to find nearly thirty-five of the fifty hidden items without running into a single soul. It wasn’t difficult, really; she merely paid attention to her surroundings, listened for the crunch of underbrush, and steered clear of drunken shrieking as lesser competitors gave in and started working together.

  Nocta certainly helped, occasionally craning his head and staring off into the distance during fleeting moments of silence. His attention always caught hers, and sure enough, Athena would eventually spot another player and head elsewhere. She had traversed the foothills of the mountains, trailed her fingers over the lake’s cool surface, and moved like a shadow in the dark bowels of the woods. And her sack was heavy because of it. Those whom she’d seen along the way lacked a competitive edge, wasting the hours away with frivolity. One group had even settled around a fire, oblivious to the goddess slinking by in the background as they passed a bottle of spirits from person to person.

  Clearly she was among the few taking this game seriously.

  And why not? Her real purpose remained on hold until the games finished. Why not find a way to busy and better her mind? Minuscule writing outlined the parchment’s edges; Athena had quickly deciphered it as clues for the bulk of the hidden items. These were the sorts of games she enjoyed—ones that required her mind and her body, working in tandem for maximum effect. She always had been the competitive sort.

  Athena strode through a glen, maneuvering around a grove of thin saplings with ease. Nocta soared overhead, his cries gleeful as he stretched his wings beneath the warm shine of the late afternoon. With her head buried in her parchment, Athena kept an ear out for the other players, all the while trying to decipher the clue to an object she suspected might be near.

  “Where the fairies dance…” she muttered, brow furrowed. She was sure it had to mean a fairy ring, but she couldn’t imagine the Otherworld housing one—nor had she seen one in all her travels that day. Besides, it was hardly fair. The object in question was an iron blade—all the fairies competing today had no hope of picking it up. And Athena preferred to win a fair game. Stumped, the goddess shook her head and lifted her gaze as she passed beneath the shadows of a tree, its branches stretched out long with baby green leaves unfurling. Should she see a fairy worrying over how to add the iron to their sack, Athena vowed right then and there to do it for them.

  It was then that a pair of arms snaked around her waist and hauled her off her feet, dragging her deeper into the shadows. Rather than drop her parchment in surprise, Athena held it tighter, hand balling into a fist, and struck back and up with her elbow. The collision resulted in a grunt from her attacker and a spurt of something hot on her shoulder—blood.

  “For all that’s good and decent, Athena!” Lugh cried, releasing her immediately and staggering back. He clutched his nose with one hand, but his eyes sparkled with mirth, not anger.

  “It’s well deserved,” she snapped, annoyed that she hadn’t detected his approach. She leaned to the side in an effort to find Nocta, but the canopy a cluster of trees obstructed her view. So be it. Her feathered friend would receive a light scolding when he was back by her side. Instead, she fixed her narrowed glare on Lugh. “What were you thinking?”

  “I’d hoped to make you laugh,” he said with a one-shouldered shrug, still pinching his nose. “Clearly I overestimated your sense of humor when you’re on the hunt.”

  She crossed her arms and ignored her hammering heart. “Clearly.”

  Still flustered, she couldn’t stop her gaze from sweeping over him. He had forgone all his armor today, starlight and dull grey alike, in favor of soft linens to his knees, belted with braided leather. The shoes he wore, she noted, he had acquired during their travels in the east—a thought that made her smile.

  “You don’t have a bag,” Athena noted. Lugh carried nothing with him besides the dagger hanging from his waist. His eyes twinkled as he tipped his head to one side.

  “It’s somewhere safe,” Lugh said, cautiously lowering his hand to reveal a bloodied nose. “Only a fool carries their treasures out in the open.” He looked pointedly at her heavy brown sack, then grinned. “I see I’ve found a fool.”

  “Like any man, woman, or beast could rid me of it,” Athena fired back with a scoff. “Did I break your nose?”

  He pinched it and wiggled it back and forth, then laughed. “No. Spilled some blood though.”

  Athena’s shoulder tingled as the warmth of a god’s life force ran languidly down her bare arm. She wiped it off with her other hand, then smeared that on her dress. The violet hid the red well.

  “Here,” she muttered, setting her bag down and retrieving the eastern silks she had found—twelfth on the list, hidden in a small inlet at the base of a mountain. She tore a small piece and took a step toward him. Lugh’s arms dropped to his side, and without thinking she moved in to clean him up, wiping away every last drop of blood. When she was through, the wound had closed, and she tossed the soiled silk aside.

  “Thank you.” He snatched her hand before she could pull away, then used the sinfully soft linen billowing around his thighs to clean the blood from it as well. “I suppose I deserved it, didn’t I?”

  Athena pressed her lips together, but when his sky blues met her stormy greys, she managed a nod. “Yes. You did.”

  “I can always trust you to put me in my place,” Lugh continued, chuckling. By then he had stopped wiping her hand, and instead held it between them, thumb pressed firmly to the middle of her palm. Suddenly he was inching closer, the spark between them like a bolt of lightning from her father’s quiver. When he spoke, his words were but whispers, soft yet burgeoning with emotions unsaid. “I’ve missed you terribly, Athena.”

  The implication had always been there—the hint of something more between them—but he had never been so bold as to say it. Well, say it without actually saying it. He had always known… Her vow, her promise to live her life untouched. Athena’s eyebrows drew together slightly, and she parted her lips, but just as she started to speak, Lugh kissed her. Hard and firm, his lips met hers most unexpectedly, and she withdrew immediately with a rather embarrassing gasp.

  “Lugh…” Athena yanked her hand back, though the invisible strand connecting his heart to hers kept her from withdrawing completely. The lightness had vanished from the golden-haired god’s features, in its place an uncharacteristically dark eagerness that startled her. Athena shook her head, but only just. “We can’t—”

  He silenced her with another kiss, cupping her face and pouncing. One of her hands flew to his chest—only it didn’t immediately do its duty and shove him away. Instead, slowly, her treacherous fingers coiled around the soft linens, neither beckoning him closer nor pushing him off. As both their lips pa
rted, Lugh walked her back, an arm thrown dangerously around her waist, until she collided with a young tree trunk, its bark scraping her shoulders.

  Sia had been right. Try as she might, Athena had willingly let this man, this god, draw her to distraction. And here it was—the climax of all their lingering glances and careful caresses.

  Her eyes closed tight for a moment, her lips savoring the feel of him, the taste of sweet wine on his tongue; for she knew that when she opened them, this would have to stop. All of it. The dancing. The private conversations in feasting hall corners. The competitions, both against one another and as a team. She would have to walk away—for her own good, and for the sake of what she had come here to do.

  Lugh’s hand wandered from the crisp cut of her jaw up to her hair, and she inhaled sharply at the feel of him playing with the pearls strung there. Something stirred within her. A desire she had denied herself all these long centuries—a satisfaction she had promised to never enjoy. Athena had taken a vow of chastity long ago. By choice. She opened herself to no man; not now, not ever.

  Yet here was Lugh, the only person to ever have tempted her to break the oath.

  She hadn’t ever been able to come to terms with how that made her feel. Perhaps, in the past, Athena had just ignored the issue—and she ought to ignore it now. Questioning her vow and her connection to Lugh wasn’t why she had ventured to the Otherworld.

  Athena had a task to complete, one that could eventually change the course of history, and Dagda’s court was only the beginning. She couldn’t lose her way so soon. She wouldn’t allow it.

  When her eyes fluttered open at last, tears clung to the lashes. Lugh seemed not to notice, his hold on her tightening as his mouth left hers, questing southward, down her neck.

  Push him off.

  Stop this.

  Although you might always regret it—enough.

  Athena tipped her head back, her braid catching on the rough wood behind her, and frowned when she noticed something in the leaves above. While the canopy was the gentle, youthful green of spring, a darker green, touched by age or by magic, cut across the underside of the leaves. She followed it for a moment, realizing the thin line created a circle. As Lugh nipped at her flesh, the harsh bite of his teeth encouraging a pleasurable twist in her core, Athena realized she had found what she’d been searching for.

  “A fairy ring,” she whispered. Lugh lifted his head, cheeks flushed and eyes dark with desire.

  “What?”

  She pointed up. “Look. It’s one of the clues.”

  The organizers must have added the circles in unsuspecting locations to make the game more challenging. Steadying her breath, Athena untangled herself Lugh and ordered him to lift her up.

  Perhaps they both knew it, but she didn’t need his help to scale the tree. It was the kindest way to break the connection. A distraction.

  Wordlessly, Lugh boosted her up, his fingertips pressing hard into her hips, and Athena searched the tree branches for a dagger.

  And when she found it, knowing she had also found a way out, her heart broke just enough for the old goddess to really feel it.

  “Down,” she murmured, tapping Lugh’s muscular shoulder lightly. When he complied, she held the ornate blade between them, the iron seeming freshly forged.

  “You didn’t happen to find a second one up there, did you?” Lugh asked playfully. “I’m afraid I’m woefully behind.”

  “No.” Her arm fell to her side as their eyes met. “Just the one.”

  Before he could drag her back in, like the tide pulling beached treasures out to the sea, Athena dropped her gaze and went for her sack. Once she had set the blade amongst her other finds, she straightened and pressed her hand to his cheek.

  Then left without a word. She didn’t run. Her pace was even, steady—slow enough that he could catch her if he tried.

  But he didn’t.

  He called her name, the sound rippling across the rustling grasses, but nothing more.

  Nocta’s relieved cry made her lift her head, and she held her arm out for him to land.

  “And where have you been?” Her voice shook somewhat. The little owl clambered up her arm to her shoulder, unaware of all that had transpired in his absence, and nipped at her earlobe.

  When the distance between them was great enough, Athena looked back beneath the shade of the clustered saplings. Lugh sat at the base of that tree, knees up and arms resting upon them. He appeared to be studying the fairy circle. Blinking hard, Athena turned away and dug out her parchment of clues.

  Only fourteen to go by nightfall. Somehow, that thrilled her less now than it had before.

  And that worried her most of all.

  Chapter 7

  Despite triumphing in the hunt and retrieval game and thus winning a seat at Dagda’s side for the feast that night, Athena was still no closer to broaching the subject of an alliance between the pantheons.

  All through the meal he had twisted and turned, changing the subject on a whim and constantly pressing her for details on the Roman empire.

  “Morbid curiosity,” he had insisted dryly when she asked why he wished to know such minute and unimportant details. “I can’t help myself. I lust for lands I will never see.”

  Athena had drunk more that night than any other—for reasons she refused to acknowledge, but could accept weren’t strictly related to Dagda—and had excused herself to her chambers as soon as the dancing started. But the King of the Otherworld couldn’t avoid her a second longer; as of yesterday, the games had ended, and Athena’s presence in court was for no other reason than to discuss private matters with the head of house. Customs had been observed—and Athena’s patience with Dagda’s painfully obvious avoidance had reached an end.

  Tonight, the dark cloud hanging over them would break, and when the deed was done, she and her party could make the appropriate preparations to leave without offending anyone.

  “Be sure to emphasize the rate of conversion to the Cult of One in the east,” Sia insisted, following Athena around her room like an annoying gnat. Athena exhaled deeply, crouching for a moment to slip her feet into a sturdy pair of sandals.

  “Shockingly, my friend, I am perfectly aware of what to discuss,” she said as she straightened, doing nothing to hide her exasperation, “given that I was the one to organize all of this in the first place.”

  “I…” Sia fiddled with the frayed leather hanging from his belt, blinking rapidly in the way he always did when someone had caught him off-guard. “Of course. I do not doubt your preparedness in this matter, Grey Eyes.”

  “Then what?”

  “As much as I despise these brutes, they will be a valuable asset in the fight against the One’s armies,” he told her, growing quieter with each word. He frowned for a moment under Athena’s scrutiny, and then seemed to shake off whatever darkness plagued him. “They are a simple folk. Too taken with beauty and physical strength, but they are good warriors.”

  “Excellent warriors,” she corrected. “They conquered this land from its original pantheon and continue to hold it. You think them simple, and many of them are, but the man or woman we choose to sit on our council will be wise and just.” Athena placed a hand on his shoulder, a hint of a smile reaching her eyes. “Be at peace, old friend. I believe our cause is just. If they do not agree to assist us today, they will when I bring the other godly houses into the fold.”

  Strength in numbers. All she needed was for the first few houses to offer up representatives, and then the rest would fall in line. She had been a respected guest in the Otherworld’s royal court on several occasions in her lifetime. Athena hoped that counted for something now.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather dress more…” Hebe pursed her lips as she looked her over. “Different?”

  The young goddess had drawn Athena a bath earlier and wished she wear her finest robes to the meeting. Athena, however, shirked all elements of finery and bea
uty. Her physical attributes were not bartering tools tonight—but her mind, her ideas, and her tenacity were. She dressed in a plain grey robe, lightly cinched at the waist, fabric draped down to her wrists. The garment ghosted over the floor, loose and nearly shapeless. No jewels. No baubles. Certainly no pearls in her hair. Unlike many, Athena had no need—or desire—to distract anyone with how she looked. Her ideas had always been her greatest asset.

  “At least let me style your hair,” Hebe pressed, but a soft tap, tap, tap at the door called Athena away. She waved her sister’s pleading requests aside with an irritated hand, wishing she had barred both her and Sia both from her chambers as she dressed.

  “The slave girl is here for you,” Felix told her when Athena poked her head into the hall. Sure enough, Sia’s beautiful Egyptian stood waiting. Ignoring the two behind her, Athena stepped into the corridor and gave a slight nod to the girl. Betrest bowed in return, cheeks flushed, the gold etchings on her skin seeming particularly luminescent tonight.

  “Come,” she said sharply, beckoning both Felix and Betrest to follow. Athena led the charge through the halls until they came to unfamiliar pathways, and finally the serving girl had to take over, guiding her down a series of winding dark corridors, the torches distantly spaced along the walls. They eventually stopped at a great arched doorway, flames burning bright on either side. Green like the valley where Lugh had kissed her, the wood of the doors had more carvings than any she had seen so far. Frowning, Athena stopped Betrest from opening it right away and moved in to investigate.

  Magical carvings. Signs to ward off evil. Some deeper than others. Every speck of wood housed a symbol. Half-moons. Dragon’s crosses. Intricate knots. Pentagram stars enshrined in thick, well-worn circles. Some of the etchings were unfamiliar to Athena, which immediately set her on edge. She had a vast repertoire of symbols from across the lands, mortal or otherwise, stored away in her memory. These were…new. Of Morrigan’s design, certainly. The Phantom Queen had made her mark, and her message was clear as day.