The Stone Queen (The Dark Queens Book 9) Page 6

  The pillar was so close I could smell its fire. But it wasn’t like the smell of wood smoke typically associated with an open flame. This smelled of darkness and wild magick, which were two impossible smells. I knew this, and yet it was the only description I had for them.

  One thing was solidifying in my mind. This was no normal fire. This flame came from the gods themselves and that’s how I realized I had seen its like before. Mother would often create a similarly burning patch of it from the very tip of her finger with naught but a thought. And just as I thought it, the fire began to take shape, drawing closer in some spots and out in others.

  And as it drew nearer and nearer, it changed entirely. No longer fire, it was now a man—a powerful warrior with armor so deeply black that it was void of all color. It did not shine or even gleam. It was pure, consuming darkness. His skin was the rich umber of deeply burnished wood. His face was chiseled of granite, his jawline so sharp and square that it made me think of a finely honed metal blade. Upon his head, he wore a crested helmet full of bloodred bird feathers. After lifting his hands, he gently removed the helmet and tucked it to his side.

  He had wavy dark-brown hair that nicely framed his already handsome face, making him look ten times more appealing than before.

  I sucked in a sharp breath, trembling all over, as for the first time in my life, my heart gave a violent surge that was not at all fear or rage but something altogether different. My entire body felt like a taut bowstring, quivering and ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

  There was no doubt in my mind that what stood like a towering tree before me was a god. And at a guess, I would say that there was only one it could be. I’d never worshipped him before, but I had worshipped his sister. Wetting my lips, I stared at the god of war and wondered why he was here and who he had come to see. I could not make sense of his being here. Had this been Zeus, it might have made more sense, but Ares wasn’t known for being a flirtatious and carefree god amongst the mortals. Legend always depicted him as fierce, charismatic, and cunning.

  Maybe if I’d been in the midst of a war, his being here would make sense, but it was just me, alone in the dawning night. What business could he possibly have with someone like me? Immediately after thinking that, I thought of something else. Maybe there was more to it. Maybe he was exactly where he was supposed to be. I glanced at the quicksilver gleam of his blade that hung by its hilt at his side.

  Gods, he was a big man. Tall and broad shouldered.

  I was stunned by his undeniable beauty and feline gracefulness. He moved like a predator, which made sense, I supposed, considering who he was. And then my heart suddenly and instantly clenched with fear.

  Perseus was Zeus’s son, and he’d cursed me to a violent death just now. Had his father actually answered his supplication by sending his other son to finish the task? I sucked in a sharp breath and quickly averted my eyes, no longer thinking of the god of war as anything remotely beautiful but now terrifyingly deadly.

  I shook as I expected to hear the snick of his war blade sliding from its sheath to give me my final punishing blow for daring to bring dishonor upon his mortal half sibling. But as the seconds ticked past and I heard no sound of his war blade, I dared to chance a peek up at him.

  He stood there like a mighty sentinel, calmly staring back at me. A gentle wind riffled through his hair and swayed the ends of his chiton. He reminded me of a statue come to life, and he studied me almost as though he’d never seen anything quite like me before. That was impossible. He was a god, and he’d literally seen the birth of my world. But he was not simply looking at me. His eyes were moving all over my body, and they burned with obvious curiosity. His was not the look of someone sent to end my existence but rather a study by someone who couldn’t quite seem to make me out.

  It was a bit unnerving to be so blatantly studied in that way.

  I thought then of Mother’s eternal banishment from Olympus and wondered if his being here had anything to do with her and nothing at all to do with Perseus after all.

  I swallowed and dug my fingers into the loose, rocky soil, aware of the bugs now crawling over my sprawled-out legs. Nyx had taken up residence in the sky once more. Mother would surely be worried about me and wondering where I was. My stomach knotted up into a nest of nerves.

  Should I speak to him? Ask him why he’d come? Or should I not? Would he think me impertinent if I tried? If I were one of my sisters, I would speak up. As an immortal, I would not fear Ares’s hand of justice. But I was not immortal like my sisters. I was very mortal and extremely breakable in the hands of that god.

  I struggled with an internal desire to know why he’d come but also with a deep sense of self-preservation. A stuttery breath spilled off my tongue.

  As if that sound made him aware of how strangely we were both acting, he finally moved, and shamefully, I almost jumped out of my skin. My wings tingled with the need to fly, to get as far away from him as possible. Even my feet burned with the need to run. But I was no swift-footed Hermes that I could beat War in a race. There was no outrunning Ares, and if he really wanted to take me down, he could with but a snap of his long, masculine fingers.

  “Do not fear me, child.” He spoke for the first time, and his voice was deeply exotic and melodious.

  My brows quickly drew in with consternation, and my lips parted. I was no child. I was a maiden of seventeen years. But before I could mutter those words, I remembered to whom I would be speaking and shut my mouth.

  His full, wonderfully designed lips stretched, and a curious glint filled his eyes. “You wish to speak with me?”

  I shook my head, but I was speaking before I realized what I was doing. “I’m not a child. And stop talking so much. Your voice bothers me.”

  I wasn’t lying. It bothered me in a wonderfully decadent way. My skin tingled everywhere, and between my legs was a strange heaviness I’d never felt before. I couldn’t describe the sensation so much as the feelings they gave me. Longing. Heat. Quickly clamping my mouth shut, I suddenly wished like the Underworld that I’d not said that. What if he thought I actually meant his voice displeased me? Would he take offense? I waited, fully expecting to see the fury of his wrath rain down upon me any second. Olympians weren’t known for their patience. But he did the most unexpected thing instead.

  He tipped his head back, exposing the long, lean lines of his powerfully strong neck, and laughed. The winds suddenly rang out with the sound of it, like the most beautiful of music. I sat entranced watching the god of war take delight in whatever it was I’d said that was so funny.

  I was shocked and also a bit enraptured by the sight. Gods above, he was beautiful, wasn’t he? My heart gave the merest bump of agreement.

  “You are a feisty one, aren’t you, woman?” I sensed his teasing, but weirdly, I liked it too. “And what, pray tell, is wrong with my voice? I’ve never been told that it offended anyone. Just the opposite, in fact. One of my more redeeming qualities, or so Dite tells me.”

  My brows rose high up on my forehead at the casual reference to his lover and the goddess of love and lust herself, Aphrodite. And shame like I’d never known filled my body. What must he have thought of me? Here I was, nothing but an impertinent human female. Beautiful by mortal standards but no better than a hagfish compared to the beauty that daily surrounded him.

  Automatically, I tucked my wings in tighter around my middle. I did not usually like to keep unprotected in this manner, but he was war, and I knew there was nothing I could do to save myself if he really wished to destroy me. The wings were many things for me. My comfort. My joy. And also a shelter when I felt threatened, as I did right now.

  I felt a tugging on one of my feathers, and when I looked, it was to note that Ares held it in his massively large palm and was tracing the quill with his other hand.

  Words completely left me as I marveled in that strangest of sensations. Not just touch, because Perseus had done it often enough, but his touch had never made me f
eel on fire. Alive and blazing like a nova. Everywhere Ares moved, it was like an arrow was shot through my flesh, making different parts of my body come alive with a mighty surge that unnerved and tantalized me. I couldn’t keep from shivering, which he must have noticed because he looked up at me from beneath his long, dark lashes, and a curl of a grin took up residence on the left-hand side of his delectable-looking mouth.

  “Does this bother you?” he asked in his deeply sensual voice that I was coming to crave as much as the freedom of winging through the skies above.

  I sucked in a sharp breath. “No, no. But surely you’ve seen other wings before, yes?”

  He shrugged and finally released my feather. I thought I would feel relieved, but I felt anything but. An ache was spreading mysteriously through me. I wanted more of his touch, even though I knew I had no right to it. Not to mention that everyone knew he was the property of Aphrodite, and I did not wish to become another Helen of Troy. Not that I was as pretty as her—I was sure Aphrodite would feel no jealousy from looking at me—but Helen’s ultimate fate had been far from pleasant.

  “I’ll admit that I’ve not been around many of you winged types. I tend to be around ringing steel and the stench of blood most days. I never knew feathers could be so different. Your rachis is like mother-of-pearl, and there is gold threaded through the snow-white of your vane. It’s quite beautiful.” He smirked and glanced momentarily at his feet.

  The look made me imagine that it was partly flirtatious and partly self-conscious, which couldn’t be right. There was no justifiable reason that Ares would ever be caught dead flirting with me. Number one, he was not that type. And there was the not-so-minor issue of Aphrodite being his lover, and everything after her would be a massive step down. It was clearly my wishful imaginings and nothing more.

  But even so, my cheeks blazed, and I fought not to lose control of my mouth. Because right now, a smile the size of Olympus wished to take up residence upon my face. He’d called my wings beautiful, and though it was most likely a throwaway compliment, it’d sounded almost true upon his handsome lips.

  I sniffed to hide my confusion and quickly tucked my wings behind me, so tight that not an inch of them could be seen from my front. Not because I hadn’t enjoyed his compliment but because I wasn’t sure that I believed it, and I didn’t want to make a fool of myself by allowing my emotions to run away with me. My back felt electrified. Like an eel’s skin, it sparked and popped and made me aware all over again of the feathers he’d called beautiful. “My mother’s always told me I had fine wings.” I shook my head, silently reminding myself that this did not in any way matter. “Why… why are you here, Great God of War, Ares? Have you come to smite me?”

  I was in it now, and I might as well be honest about my fears. If he’d come to execute me, he was certainly proving effective at getting me to lower my guard, which I didn’t want to do.

  One dark, thick brow rose as though he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or chastise me for daring to be so informal with him. I was a mortal, he a god. I had my place, and he had his. But today had been terrible, and any sense of self-preservation I’d had left was quickly consumed by the adrenaline runoff coursing through my body.

  I thought I heard, in the distance, my name upon the wind. I stiffened, imagining it must be Mother searching for me. I glanced toward the right and frowned.

  “Be calm, little one,” he was quick to assure. “You will be well. I will make certain that sister Ceto knows you were with me.”

  I blinked as my brows gathered in tight. “Why? Why would you do that?”

  Again, my mouth didn’t wait for my brain to process what I should and should not say.

  The smile on his face slowly faded, leaving him with an intense look of curiosity. “Do you wish me to leave?”

  Why would he ask me that? The question had sounded almost intimate, as though we’d known one another long enough to actually be honest and sincere rather than cursory and pat, as one tended to get with casual acquaintances.

  I cocked my head. “Would you care if I did?”

  He blinked, and he looked shocked by my response. I wondered why I was suddenly so calm and serious and where this nerve of mine had suddenly sprung up from. This wasn’t like me at all. Mother had always taught me to revere the gods, to never do anything to draw attention from them to me, saying that by doing so, I could wreak havoc upon myself and my bloodline.

  Her words had always seemed like nonsense. Why would the gods care about someone so minor? I wasn’t the only low goddess walking the earth. There were others, born and dying in obscurity, the infamy of their fathers and mothers of no grave importance to anyone other than themselves.

  He snorted. “You’re a very strange bird, aren’t you?”

  Again I blinked. What did that mean? “I’m not a bird, or a harpy, if you wondered. I’m just me. Just Medusa.”

  Still, he looked taken aback by my responses, and I couldn’t understand why. I thought I’d been respectful.

  “Do you have serpents, Medusa?”

  “What?”

  I wrinkled my nose. What an odd question and a very strange segue. Hadn’t we just been talking about my feathers? Where did this nonsense about serpents come from?

  Then he did the most amazing thing ever—he sat, cross-legged, before me. We were quite a distance apart, yet it felt surprisingly intimate. The god of war was sitting in the dirt with me. But why?

  Once more, I heard the call of my mother ride the winds, this time much closer. She would likely stumble upon us soon, but Ares did not look in the least bit bothered.

  He lifted up one leg and casually dropped his forearm over it. His big, brawny body looked completely relaxed and at ease.

  “Would you be surprised if I told you that an oracle’s words told to me over a hundred years ago are what led me here to you tonight?”

  “What?” I knew I sounded simple, but none of what he was saying made much sense.

  Ripping up a chunk of grass, he began to absentmindedly drag a clump of it between his fingers, but his eyes were faraway and reflective.

  “One comes who will change the course of your destiny. A maiden of stone and venom, with a heart of gold and a soul poisoned by darkness. She will be yours truly. Forever and ever, brother War, but the road will be long, painful, and more of a curse than a blessing. But if you stay strong, if you hang in there, your future will shine brighter than Midas’s own gold. So it is spoken, so shall it be…”

  His deep voice, full of heat and other things, made me shiver. His dark, burning eyes returned to mine, and they were filled with silent curiosity. His look was soft, and I sensed he was trying to put me at ease.

  I shrugged, rolling my wrists as I did. “And you think that’s me?”

  His look was boldly assessing before he finally sighed and said, “I’m not certain. I visited the Fates tonight, though, and they assure me that it is you.”

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it, because this was absolutely the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard. “But think rationally.”

  “I’d say I’m fairly rational. I am known as a master strategist, and as I’ve said, I’ve waited over a hundred years before moving on this prophecy. All roads point to you.”

  “It couldn’t possibly be, though. I am no maiden of stone and venom, and I will certainly never be your greatest love.”

  He chuckled. “Do you deny me, then? Consider me hideous to look upon?”

  I didn’t actually believe he was fishing for compliments. How could he be when his looks rivaled Adonis’s? He had slashing cheekbones and perfect dimensions, and he was everything a male god should be. I snorted. “Don’t be absurd.”

  “About?”

  Now it was my turn to lift my brows. “Is the great god of war actually fishing for compliments?”

  “Ha!” He barked with laughter, and all I could do was sit and watch him. His looks were beautiful but severe at times, just as a lifelong soldier’s could be expected
to be, but when he laughed, it was like he became a different person. He was radiant and, for just a moment, looked carefree. “You’ve a tongue on you, female. Me, fishing for compliments. What an absurd notion.”

  His nostrils flared, he glanced toward his right, and I swore that for just a moment, maybe there’d been a glimmer of guilt in his eyes. It was quickly washed away in the glow of his eternal flames. He pursed his lips and gave a coughing grunt, and I rather wondered if he weren’t trying to gather his thoughts.

  It was bizarre, this new reality I now found myself in. Chatting so animatedly with an actual god of Olympus, as though he and I were old friends and not new acquaintances.

  “Maybe you’re right, Medusa. Maybe you aren’t this female destined to become my greatest love. Perhaps I should leave.” He said it more like a question than a statement, and I was confused all over again. That was not an uncommon state for me at the moment.

  A gentle wind riffled through my feathers, and a lone one, the very one he’d been toying with earlier, molted. It fluttered in the breeze as feathers tended to do.

  Moving quicker than a cobra’s strike, Ares snatched the feather from the air, staring at it again in that studious and thoughtful manner of his. And I could see it, what made him such a master strategist. How he’d been the very one responsible for drafting the plan to bring down the mighty titans. Zeus was always given credit for just about everything good that went on up there on Mount Olympus, but I knew he could not do half of what he did without loyal Ares by his side.

  His long fingers stroked the feather almost tenderly, and I couldn’t help trembling at the sight of such a powerful man looking so… normal. It was strange, this new dichotomy of his. In my mind, Ares had always been bigger than life. He was an immortal soldier who surely had the tongue of a sailor, the skills of a pirate, and the deadly grace of an agitated adder. He’d never been a male that I could somehow identify with, a quiet and clearly intelligent being with whom I would feel such a strange and instant connection, and I was deeply rattled by that reality.