Melos: House Trajan Book 3 by Petra J. Knox

Author:Petra J. Knox [Knox, Petra J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-11-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Sierra

As I watched my love, my heart, transform from man to bird, I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that Demos was… an owl. Not just any owl, but my owl. The one Lucius, ironically, had gifted me that day in Port Minerva. The fact had me reeling, especially seeing it happen right in front of me. It was so shocking to my mind, that I simply put it in a box of things I didn’t have time to examine.

“After you,” Phobius said. I had forgotten he was there, and I startled. He had his arm extended, gesturing for me to move ahead of him and start our trek toward Lucius.

I shook myself and put one foot in front of the other, wincing at the cold ground that wasn’t smooth by any stretch of the imagination. It was only thanks to my super healing that blisters or worse hadn’t torn my frozen feet to bloody pieces already.

“Phobius…” I wasn’t sure how to word what I wanted to ask him.

“Yes, my lady?”

When I looked up at him beside me, his expression was indulgent. He wore that smugness of his like a cloak. I could never read him well, whether he was humoring me or mocking me. Taking him in now, I tried to see Demos in him. They weren’t remotely alike.

“I want this over,” I replied. “Tell me what I need to do.”

For once, his expression seemed serious. “What are you saying, exactly?”

We stopped walking and turned to face each other. “I may not know the specifics or even the general gist, but I know war is coming. I know an elemental that resides over winter is trapped in some kind of painful mental loop, and I know the Owl needs to be held accountable for whatever it is they’ve been doing. I want it to stop. What do I need to do? And don’t you dare tell me that I just need to sit pretty and watch as the Ongahri and my men walk into danger, leaving me behind, coddled and protected.”

His blue eyes studied me, starting with my hairline all the way to the lift of my chin. I felt like he was reading me like a book, assessing me, taking my measure. Finally he said, “Aren’t you a surprise. I’ve pegged you wrong, madame. I think the more appropriate question is what are you willing to do?”

“I have no idea until I learn what it is that can be done.” I was growing irritated, once again, at people who had more information than me. “Do I need to go straight to the Basilica and demand answers from their Supreme? Do I need to travel to Providence and speak with my father, implore him to arrange a meeting with the leaders of Titus? The Constants? Gods, I’ll do that and more, even going back to that—that desolate frozen forest and pour hot water on that frozen mound the elemental is trapped in. What. Can. I. Do?”

He said nothing, only stared at me with wide eyes.

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