Loxias. The Orthrus who’d bid twenty thousand crystals against Theron at the market. He stepped into Theron’s den, surveying the scene with cold silver eyes.
Theron went rigid, his protective snarl shaking dust from the ceiling. “Get out,” he snapped. “Now.”
Behind Loxias, a harpy folded her wings, feathers ruffling nervously. A minotaur followed in their wake, his bulk filling thedoorway. But it was only Loxias who spoke. “Hellhound Theron, your claim has been formally challenged. By ancient law, the union cannot be completed until the Moirae render judgment.”
Somehow, even if I’d known this was too good to be true, I wasn’t prepared for this. “Judgment? What kind of judgment?”
“Phonos of House Keres has invoked his right of formal challenge,” Loxias replied, still as calm as before. “The Moirae will hear both cases and decide the matter.”
Theron slid out of me, and I barely managed not to flinch. He cradled me close to his chest, hiding me from sight. “The bidding is finished. She chose me.”
Loxias didn’t seem to care about his brother’s arguments. “The choice must be ratified through proper channels. Callista comes into the protection of the Weaveguard until the hearing concludes.”
Protection? This had to be some kind of joke. The only place I’d ever felt safe was with Theron.
“I won’t go,” I said, burying myself deeper into Theron’s embrace. “You can’t force me.”
The harpy shot me an almost chastising look. “Lady Callista, you don’t understand the—”
A new voice cut her off before she could finish the phrase. “Callista’s refusal should be respected. She’s the one whosefuture must be prioritized. Not yours, and certainly not Phonos’s.”
Iaso glided into the den, her serpent hair writhing. Each snake was alert and agitated, nothing like the strangely welcoming creatures I’d met in the infirmary.
Loxias acknowledged Iaso’s arrival with a dip of his head. “Healer Iaso, the Moirae’s orders were clear.”
“Were they?” The Medusa stared at Loxias without blinking. “Or are you exceeding your authority by treating Callista as property?”
For the first time, I remembered the tales spoken of in Agrion. Similar to basilisks, creatures like Iaso could kill others with a simple look, turning them into stone. I half-expected her to do exactly that, to transform Loxias into nothing more than a statue.
But Iaso didn’t attack. Instead, she said, “Callista is distressed. She requires medical attention after such trauma.”
Loxias narrowed his eyes. “This entire matter is unfortunate. But formal challenges cannot be ignored, regardless of timing.”
“Then don’t make it worse.” Iaso’s snakes rose, forming a protective crown around her face. “Or shall I report to the Moirae that you ignored Callista’s medical needs?”
Theron remained perfectly still, but I felt the change in him. Every muscle had gone rigid with barely leashed violence. Hisclaws had extended without him seeming to notice, carving shallow grooves in the stone under his palms.
“She goes with Iaso,” he said, each word carefully controlled. “No one else touches her.”
“Very well.” Loxias gestured to the harpy with obvious relief. “Bring suitable clothing.”
The political maneuvering disgusted me. But Iaso’s intervention offered an escape route that wouldn’t force Theron to fight his own brother. Ignoring the harpy, I pulled the cream dress over my head.
“I don’t need anything from you,” I said, standing on shaking legs. “And I hope you know this changes nothing. I’ve already made my decision.”
“I’m not the one who needs to hear that,” Loxias answered. His voice held something distant, like a warning and a promise wrapped into one.
“I don’t suppose you’ll tell us what this is actually about,” Iaso prodded. When Loxias just stared at her in silence, she sighed and extended her hand. “I thought so. Come, child. You need rest before facing whatever political theater awaits.”
My brand still pulsed with warmth, but it felt weaker now. Distant. Our bond remained incomplete, hanging in the balance of whatever challenge Phonos had engineered.
“How long?” Theron asked, baring his fangs at his brother. “How long until the hearing?”
“The Moirae will summon all parties when they’re ready,” Loxias said, pausing in the doorway. “Could be hours. Could be days.”
Hours. Days. Time for Phonos to plan and prepare, while Theron could do nothing but wait. The unfairness burned in my throat like acid.
“It doesn’t matter, Callista,” Theron told me, seeing straight through my facade of bravery. “It could take aeons, and I’d still find you.”
