Page 108 of A Kingdom of Wild and Power
Zagreus and Kage exchanged a glance, unease settling between them.
‘There is only one god capable of that,’ Zagreus said slowly, fear tightening his voice. ‘Only one whocould move freely through every realm. One of the originals.’
‘I thought there were three originals,’ Kage said, rifling through memory. ‘Hades, Zeus, and the Sun God.’
Zagreus shook his head. ‘No. There were more. One eventheyfeared.’
Kage turned back to Rio. Her smile widened, stretching into something sharp and knowing.
‘Who?’ Kage asked, watching the way her expression tipped into something dangerously pleased.
‘Nyx,’ Zagreus answered, the name heavy as a curse. ‘The goddess ofnight. Zeus’ first wife. The mother of Thanatos and Eris.’
I’ve never told anyone this.
It is a secret I have kept, and will keep, until the end of my days. But I write it in this diary as a confession.
I had grown distant from my mother for many years. Especially when I was older and discovered that I was in actual fact, a goddess named Hecate. My mother and I never saw eye to eye. And in the end, I ended up despising her.
I don’t know why I did it.
I’ve always been good with poison.
Tabitha Wysteria
Mal stared at the abundance laid across the long stone dining table in the main hall, her brows lifting in open surprise. Platters and parcels covered the surface in uneven clusters, their scents thick and heavy in the air. Only minutes ago, Morthos had returned, unloading packages from the back of his wyvern with the ease of a man long accustomed to travelling between skies and kingdoms.
‘I’ve also brought some fresh produce,’ he announced, clapping Ash on the back with a grin. ‘So the Fire King might not starve to death.’
‘I appreciate it,’ Ash replied, polite as ever.
‘Where do you get it from?’ Mal asked, leaning forward to pluck a handful of grapes already soft with decay. She rolled them between her fingers before popping one into her mouth. To outsiders, the sight of wyverians eating was often unsettling; their food had to be rotten. Touched by time. It was said that Hades himself had once cursed them to consume only spoilt fare, hoping to drive Hecate from mortal lands and back into his waiting arms. The curse had not worked. Mal had meant to ask her father whether the old tale was true.
Something in her bones told her it was.
She brushed her hand along Ash’s arm, offering him a small smile. He barely glanced at the food before them. The weeks spent stranded in the Kingdom of Darkness had carved him thinner, the sharpness of his cheekbones more pronounced. Back in the wyverian castle, securing fresh provisions for him had been simple enough. Here, isolated and reliant upon whatever Morthos could scavenge or barter, it had become a quiet, gnawing struggle.
‘There’s a little village not far from here,’ Morthos explained, motioning for them to sit and make use of the feast. ‘I travel there once a month for supplies. I may have to go more often…’ His gaze lingered on Ash. ‘Your food doesn’t keep very long.’
‘How do you pay for it?’ Mal asked.
She ignored the faint crease that formed between Ash’s brows at her bluntness. The question was not just plain curiosity. She needed to know whether her father, King Ozul, still ensured his younger brother wanted for nothing or whether he had truly cast Morthos aside.
Morthos seemed to hear the unspoken weight beneath her words.
‘I supplied the village many years ago with one of mywyverns,’ he said. ‘It allows them to travel between settlements, to trade with those who cannot journey themselves. In return, they’ve kept me fed all these years.’
Mal leaned back slowly, a grape poised between her fingers before she let it fall into her mouth. She studied her uncle in silence, tasting both the fruit and the answer.
She could not decide whether she felt relief or disappointment.
Morthos had once attempted to murder her. She understood why her father might sever such a bond. And yet…King Ozul had always been attentive and fiercely devoted to his kin. The thought that he had truly turned his back on his own brother unsettled her.
It made her wonder whether she had ever truly known her father at all.
‘I read to mother this morning,’ Mal announced, brushing the conversation aside as though it were nothing more than smoke. ‘She seems a little more herself lately.’
‘Reading to her must help,’ Morthos replied quietly.
