Vengeance Throne (The Callistra Chronicles #2)

THIRTY-SIX

PART TEN — CHAMPION

Pasiphae of Eo is dressed in blood.

Chapter Thirty-Six

When the shaking stopped, Pasiphae opened her eyes to a hazy darkness.

She could feel a heavy weight of what had to be debris pressed against her shoulder, and the fabric of Seth's sleeve beneath her fingertips. She could hear the dullest ringing reverberating in her ears—the effect of the colossal sound that had just erupted through the world—and she could smell the earth as if it had freshly rained.

But she couldn't see anything. They were surrounded by rubble.

"Gem?"

The low croak sounded right above her ear. Pasiphae turned her head; she could feel Seth's breath but despite their close proximity, it was so dark that she couldn't pick out a single feature of his face.

"Right here," she assured.

"Are you hurt?"

Pasiphae rotated her left shoulder slowly to test it out. It felt like it would perhaps bruise badly, but nothing was broken, and she could bear the pain.

"I'll live," she replied. "You?"

"Yeah," Seth sighed. He settled his forehead into the crook of her neck, his hair tickling the skin at her nape. "Thanks to you."

Before Pasiphae could respond, the sound of stone grating against stone echoed into the hollow they were tucked into. A shaft of light slashed into the small space, cutting into Pasiphae's sight with a sudden brutality. She blinked rapidly to adjust.

"Hey, Majesties, are you down there?"

The voice was undoubtedly Psyche's, but Pasiphae needed a delayed moment before she realised that she was not simply overhearing a conversation the faery guard was having with someone else—Psyche was talking to them.

"Over here," Seth called, clearly adjusting to the change in address faster than Pasiphae. "What happened?"

Something cluttered loudly above them again. Psyche was single-handedly moving the slabs of rubble out of the way, allowing more and more light to stream in and illuminate Seth's dust-smeared face. Pasiphae reached over and brushed away the grit lodged on his cheekbone.

"We won."

Psyche stated the fact with such a level tone that Pasiphae didn't believe her for a short second. When the faery guard only proceeded to continue moving more rubble chunks off the pile, it seemed that Psyche was being serious.

"Would you like to elaborate?" Seth asked. He steadied himself onto his knees and tried to give the piece of the ceiling pressed onto his shoulder a shove, but there was still too much weight stacked on top of them for anything to shift.

"The revolution was successful," Psyche clarified. Some more excitement was creeping into her usual dry voice. "The land-owning nobles are dead on the fields. Some outer Court members have fled into exile, but all have ceased to become threats. The system sits anew." Psyche paused. "The people of Airesi bow to you now."

A particularly large piece of rubble came loose at that moment, illuminating the entirety of the nook that Pasiphae and Seth were crammed into. When Seth gave the piece lying upon him a shove now, the entire caved-in structure adjusted and gave way, allowing him to stand and offer Pasiphae a hand up.

They emerged through the rubble, brushing off the dust and grit, and on cue, Psyche swept herself into a deep, theatric curtsy.

Pasiphae and Seth rolled their eyes in unison.