Note: TW some blood and gore at the very end of chapter.
Chapter Twenty-Three
He Won't Fail Her Again
"Master."
Phobos groaned, head pounding as he awoke from much needed rest.
"Master."
A small hand was shaking him harder.
"Please, master, there is a problem. I need your guidance."
Phobos forced open his eyes, body protesting as the aftermath of the poison hit him all at once. His insides ached and burned, with his body weary, as there was a good deal of internal bleeding. His vision was fuzzy and his limbs were sluggish. He could make out the form of his familiar next to him as the room came into view in the low light from his open patio.
"Lady Wilhelmina has taken them."
That made Phobos sit up, confusion and worry filling him.
His behavior with her last night, once the effects hit him full force, was deplorable.
Phobos knew he should not have kept their arrangement after dinner. But she was so unwilling to part from him, and he knew the day was wearing thin on her, that he thought she would leave quickly, like their first two encounters. Yet, he was guilty too, as he indulged in their bath, touching what was forbidden not even a day ago. And then he held her to him, weakly attempting to get her to leave.
It was more poor judgement on his part, as his drive to be near her was only increasing. That seemed impossible, but everyday he learned more about her, spent more and more time together, was another day his senses left him.
After he sent her from the bath, he redressed and returned to his room. The two guards were puzzled by his state, and against his protest, had alerted the queen.
Elyon had shown up with the castle healers, who stopped the poison from causing more serious symptoms and effects. The queen had tried to question him as to the cause, even with magic, but he resisted answering. Seeing he was only causing himself more distress, she stopped, frustrated at his unwillingness to disclose the cause to her.
Phobos had passed out from exhaustion before he could debate calling Achilles off of his mission. As there was now too much attention on him again.
"What do you mean she has taken them?" he demanded, tongue thick in his dry mouth.
Achilles' dark eyes blinked up at him in the dim light. A cool breeze billowed in, giving him some relief as his skin still felt flushed.
"After you returned to your quarters, and Queen Elyon tended to you," Phobos winced at the idea of Elyon 'tending' to him like he was helpless. "Lady Wilhelmina retrieved Lady Taranee and went to the kitchen staff. They questioned everyone. Half a dozen of the staff are in the dungeon where I cannot reach them. I am sorry, Master. If I was faster, they would be dead, as you wished," he ended with genuine remorse.
Then added, unexpected heat in his voice, "They hurt you for so long. I will kill them, I promise."
Phobos leaned back into his plush pillows and placed a hand on his familiar's head.
"Your conviction is admirable. Do not pursue this any further," he ordered.
Achilles shook off his hand and jumped back, eyes flashing with electricity. "But they need to pay! Like the guards! I can protect you again! I-"
"Enough," he snapped. "Keep your voice low. Remember your place, Achilles. Do not argue with me. Do not disobey."
Achilles' eyes widen at the reprimand and looked down, arms wrapped tight around himself. "Yes, master," he whispered, voice thick with emotion.
"If Taranee is involved, she will invade the culprits' minds for answers. She is dangerous to our plans. If she even glimpses you in their memories, she may seek you out for answers. Are you sure they have not spied you for any reason?"
Achilles nodded.
"Good. While you are to remain unseen, you must avoid Taranee at all costs. One look into your mind and this will be all for naught. Understood?"
Again, he nodded, eyes to the ground, small hands balled into fist.
"The castle is too dangerous for you tonight. I have another task in the city for you. There is a woman who I think is becoming a thorn in my side again…"
In the morning, Phobos lingered in bed longer than normal, still fatigued by the aftereffects of the latest 'attempt' on his life.
In the clear light of day, the full magnitude of what happened last night hit him, and he grew angry. He was tempted to let Achilles finish his mission and kill the fools, jailed or not, as now Wilhelmina was involved.
And once the Keeper was a part of a fight, she finished it.
Knowing she was now working in her professional capacity as the Holder of the Heart, and putting the other Guardians to work, was about to make things tricky.
She knew he had some access to his magic, but had kept it a secret. Exactly why was a mystery. It implied a level of trust towards him that felt foolish given their past. Yet, it wasn't as misplaced as it should have been, as he wanted her to stay uninvolved in his plot, since that would lead to less accountability on her part.
Also, he did not want to face her on opposite sides ever again.
It would pain them both now, having to fight again, one day.
It made him think about what he would do in his freedom. If he tried for Meridian again, she would have to oppose him. Would have to fight. And she, and the Guardians, were so strong at this point in their lives, he would have to invoke stronger, darker magic to fight back. Magic that he wasn't sure wouldn't lead to their deaths.
To her death.
And that was not a victory he wanted.
So what did his future hold, if not the throne of Meridian?
That was the question on his mind as he entered the council chamber at mid-morning.
It was a decent size room, with a large rectangular table. It was the same table from when he had used the room, only the wood was brighter and held a polished sheen, where he had left it darker, with a natural texture to it. The room held the old flags of Meridian, each conveying the colors of previous Queens. The current flag hung above the wide glass window behind the tall, gilded chair at the head.
Elyon was standing at the window, staring at her expansive kingdom below. Her council was already seated, to the left of her chair, all quiet with pensive looks that they gave the queen's back. The Earth Regent was sitting at the end of the row, next to the empty seat at the other end of the table. The look he gave Phobos was less… subtle than the others.
To the right of Elyon's spot, with less seating, was an empty chair, followed by three of the Guardians and another vacant spot.
He could sit at the other end, and he doubted Elyon would object as she was making moves of her own, so contesting his still ambiguous position would look weak. Yet, Phobos wasn't there for games today.
He honestly wasn't sure what he was truly there for.
So he took the spot he knew Elyon had intended for him. On her right, across from Caleb, next to Cornelia.
His skin crawled as he sat in that vile spot, the Earth Guardian just as displeased as him at their closeness.
And, like he thought, the Keeper entered with Taranee and sat at the other end, Taranee at her left.
Phobos had spied a look at the fighter in her at the lake when he had hit her with that fateful stone. Now, looking at her, he felt that same excitement from before.
Wilhelmina was furious, and she wasn't trying to hide it. The power she command was unquestionable in that moment. She had spent weeks lost, floundering in her grief at the loss of her relationship. It was easy for everyone around her, even him, to forget who she was.
She was the Light of Infinity, and commanded the four Guardians, the four strongest elemental fighters in the realms, for a reason.
She was wearing Earth clothing, shorts and a simple shirt, with her short red hair messy. She looked the polar opposite of Elyon, decked in her teal and white gown, crown on her head, long golden hair in perfectly shaped braids.
Two lights who handled their problems drastically different.
"How many?" Elyon asked, voice even, still looking out the window to the sun-bleached city below.
Wilhelmina leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms and legs. "Twenty and counting. We had to stop so Taranee could recharge," she answered, a frown etched on her face.
"I will be good to keep going after lunch," Taranee assured, sounding fatigued.
"Twenty what?" an older man asked, worried as he looked between the two women.
The Keeper grimly answered, "Traitors to your crown, Julian."
The Earth Regent snorted and casually pointed out, "Trying to kill Phobos isn't committing treason; it's a public service. One that we all here have tried on numerous occasions." He looked at the Keeper. "Something some of us seem to have forgotten."
"That might be true," she countered, holding his gaze. "For us almost ten years ago, but that shit isn't the same now. Things change, after all."
"Yes," he bitterly mused. "They unfortunately have."
"So," she went on, unfazed by his comments. "Having any damn one go against Queen Elyon's direct orders is text book treason, in my book. Unless you think it's a good thing someone can be poisoned at the same table we all share?"
Julian interrupted before Matt could speak. "Lady Will is right. Putting aside who the target was, the fact they tainted any meal at that table is the true concern. Our Queen could have easily been the target."
"Also," Hay-Lin added, a look of determination on her face. "What if Will and Phobos shared food? I don't like anyone getting hurt, but at least Phobos can survive… that. If Will ate it she would have…" she trailed off, not needing to finish her thought.
Irma was quick to speak, looking around the table in frustration. "This is getting way out of hand. And, look, I get it. I really do. Phobos is an asshole, no offense," she added, glancing at him.
"What you speak is true," he admitted with a shrug, not bothered by her comment.
"But that doesn't mean people can try to kill him like every damn week. I'm not going to pretend to understand magical monarchies, but if Elyon says move the fuck on, then maybe do that?"
"Do you expect an entire planet to just, what, forget?" Caleb said, baffled. "That it's that simple? The pain? The blood? The death?"
"No one says it's simple," Taranee spoke up, calmer than the rest. "Just that you have to try. Caleb, you are a symbol for the people. You were someone with no magic that stood up to a magical ruler. And won. There is a lot of uneasiness that exists around the Heart of Meridian bloodline, beyond Phobos and way before Weira. The more I read about the history of this planet, the more I realize it's stuck in a vicious cycle. Discontent rises in the magicked-less, trouble builds in the kingdom, and magic represses it all until it boils over all again. Elyon can change that. Can show she's not here to oppress with the Heart, just help."
"And accepting Prince Phobos back is a step in that direction?" a young Galhot asked, skeptical.
"Yes, Aldarn," Taranee answered. "Because he's only the villain to some, not all. If he was still in power, a different set of people would be here now, thinking they were in the right, to finally end the line of queens. Elyon and Phobos are the only two sibling rulers this planet has ever known and they are both supported by some and hated by others. Them, together, would show a unity between the old ways and change."
It was an interesting thought. They both represented change. Him with his very birth, Elyon with her ideas. And they both had ties to the old ways as well. But that was just a thought.
Caleb looked at him, eyes heated, and demanded, "Is that what you want? Unity?"
Phobos rose a brow. "She is not wrong in her deductions," he admitted. "There has always been unrest in Meridian. On Metamoor. Many favored my court as I did not care what they looked like, only what they offered in service. Weira… was not ambitious. She did not seek change, only to keep to the status left by her predecessors. It was easy for her to remain blind to the plight of the lands while she dealt with problems in her court."
As Weira and her time was still a mystery to those around him, it wasn't surprising that Elyon now turned to him and asked, "What problems?"
Phobos frowned, debating.
She could not force him to recount this tale, as he would just remain mute in his defiance if she ordered it.
He glanced at the Keeper, her deep brown eyes watching him intensely.
Phobos sighed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "I made the mistake of thinking you were like her, like mother," he said, looking at his sister. "That you were blind, like her, to the realities of life." Elyon kept her face even, but he could see a flicker of confusion and yearning in her eyes.
She wanted to know where she came from.
It was a drive so strong that she threw away her right to the Heart when faced with a painful lie.
"One of Weira's greatest troubles was being the unfortunate queen to sire a prince. Metamoor is a planet soaked in magic, and with that comes ties to destiny. And superstition. To some, my birth broke the tight bonds of fate that had dictated the lands for centuries. To others, I was a curse that caused every storm, famine, and blight to plague the land. So, naturally, to a great many, it was best to remove the uncertainty that my existence brought to the kingdom. Only, when they succeeded, Weira made it so they never would again."
Phobos gave a tight smile. "It is only a matter of time before everyone turns to the thing they deem below them, if it means preserving their way of life, their reality. To revive her eight-year-old child, Weira used dark magic and lost the favor of the Oracle. So when a coup rose against her over the years, Kandrakar was forced to stay silent and watch her dethroned."
"Eight?" Elyon questioned, now sitting down in her chair, soaking up every word.
He nodded. "She used the power of the Heart to force aging upon me, so none would know what she did. It was one of the less pleasant experiences, I will admit."
"What spell… was used?" she pressed, wanting all the answers he would give.
"The spell she used is lost to me, as I was too young to know of those things yet, and not around to hear what was said. All I know is I am tied to the planet."
Phobos looked back at Caleb, who was absorbing his tale with a pinched expression. The prince did not tell his past, as he did not want pity from those around him. What was done, was done. It was only painful memories he rarely revisited.
"So, to answer your question, no, I do not seek unity. Just a path of my own making. Years from now, when you are long dead and forgotten, and I am still cursed to walk this mortal realm, because a queen was too weak to protect one child, unity will give me no solace."
Caleb leaned forward and asked, "So where does all of us, Meridian, Metamoor, fit in there? Are you just waiting us out now? Because nothing is good enough for you?"
Phobos openly looked at the Keeper and said, "I did not say 'nothing' is good enough." For a second, her bravo wavered, eyes warm and increasingly familiar. He looked back at the man across from him. "Just that I have no interest in this same fight. I have seen this all before, with many of the same players. The only difference here is Elyon. My participation, or lack thereof, will not affect the outcome."
"But it will!" Hay-Lin spoke up, hands balled in tight fist. "You know so much about everything! About what the people, all the people, want. Because you lived it too, like them," she waved at the queen's inner council. "And you said it, that it can be different, with Elyon leading everyone. Even if your mom failed, that doesn't mean you two can't succeed."
Cornelia added, not fully looking at him from the corner of her eyes, "At the very least, if you won't help, just don't make things worse."
Hay-Lin frowned at the comment and Irma huffed, sending the blond a heated glared.
"Enough," the Keeper sighed from her spot, looking at him. "After everything that's happened, we can't force him to help."
Matt shifted in his chair as he gave a hollow laugh. "Everything that's happened? Like a decade long illegitimate rule? Or how about breaking his vow to you?"
She smiled thinly, eyes flashing as she looked at the man to her right. "Yes, he broke his vow to me. And it was Kandrakar, my kingdom, that stripped him of his claim. Technically, the Council of Kandrakar has domain over his fate. The threats on his life are now Guardian business, and so are the threats to Meridian's Light." She pointed out. "And last time I checked, the five Guardians of Magic didn't need to force anyone to do anything when we do our job."
"Let's take a break," Elyon called quickly, looking worriedly between the two. "We still have a lot to bring everyone here up to date on. And we need cooler heads to prevail, understood?" she asked, looking around the table. She was met with agreement from all around.
Some people stayed seated, others stood to walk to the edge of the room and whisper softly in conversation. Elyon stood, walking with Cornelia to stand away from the group near the window, engaged in their own quiet talk.
After the ending of last night, he wasn't sure if the Keeper would approach him, but she did. She exchanged some words with the Earth Regent before she did, body tense, eyes narrowed.
It was clear that whatever camaraderie they shared when they arrived on Metamoor, even after ending their courtship, was quickly vanishing as the days passed.
Phobos stood as she came to him, and they walked to the side for their own space away from the others.
"Hey," she greeted, looking agitated, glancing back at the group before fully facing him. "You look… better than last night." She was frowning, eyes tracing his face. "You look pale. I mean, even more pale, than normal. I thought Elyon brought a healer?"
It did not surprise Phobos she was already informed with the rest of the night's events.
"She did. There was just substantial blood loss. This is normal."
A flash of pain crossed her face as her eyes dropped. "Normal, huh?"
This was exactly what he wanted to avoid.
Phobos reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I reacted poorly last night," he admitted, watching her downcast expression. "I just do not wish for you to be involved in those more upsetting moments."
She tensed, teeth worrying her lower lip. "I want to know if you're hurt," Wilhelmina said softly. "I want to help-"
He cut her off, needing to fix the damage of last night. She was stubborn and hotheaded. If he let any doubts linger in her head, she would only let them amplify her gloom. "I enjoy our time together," he admitted in earnest. "I enjoy your company more than any other person I have ever known. Pain, unrest. It has all been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. Yet, with you, I feel a peace I never knew I could have, even in this shackled life."
He moved his hand to cup her jaw and angle her face to his, so he could look into the beautiful, warm eyes he had grown to adore.
"I do not want those bitter moments to taint even a second with you." He leaned down, face near hers. "I am not here for you to save. I am not another mission. When we are together, you are safe to find the solitude you seek."
"Phobos," she whispered, reaching up to caress his jaw. "Helping you is different from saving you. I… I hope you know that. That I'm here for you and it's okay to need someone else, to need me, to help."
He pulled away, knowing he was seconds from kissing her, and it was inappropriate given where they were.
Only, she didn't care.
So bold.
So incorruptible.
So good.
He knew what he wanted for his future now.
But it was a fool's want.
It seemed like a small dream, after the monumental events of his life.
Yet this woman before him was larger than he could fathom.
As she pulled him into a searing kiss, filled with her worry and care for him, just him, he felt himself a fool.
"Master," Achilles called, urgent, panicked.
Phobos, still chatting with Wilhelmina for the few minutes before they had to press on with the meeting, tried not to make his divided attention known to the Keeper as he addressed the frog.
"What-" he questioned, only for Achilles to cut him off.
"There is a person here, a mage!"
"Another assassin?" he thought with exasperation. "We will deal with that-"
"No! Not for you! For Queen Elyon! There are aiming for her by the window. I can stop them but many will see me."
Phobos glanced over, as he was still fairly close to his sister. She was with Cornelia still, back now to the window. The glass was surely enchanted. Probably by Elyon herself. But the right spell, something long lost and created in darkness, could pierce it. What were the chances that the mage knew something of that magnitude?
Considering they currently had the queen as their target, it seemed probable.
Intervening would lead to questions about how he saw what no one else did.
Yet he was moving before he could truly consider leaving Elyon to her fate.
Later, he would reason that he did not want Wilhelmina to see the horror the death of a dear friend would bring one like her.
But, honestly, he just saw the smiling face of the little girl he failed, like Weira failed her son.
Like he thought, the window shattered with the force of the spell. It was in the shape of a black arrow that tore through the window and split the table in half. It scorched the ground and wood black with the tainted magic, wisp of darkness billowing into the air.
The stillness that followed, where everyone tried to process what happened, was both too long and too short.
He knew their hesitation was from their confusion.
Seeing Elyon's spell fail firsthand, seeing Phobos push both the queen and the Earth Guardian out of the arrow's path.
Seeing the blood.
The spell Weira used had always kept him whole. Would stop his limbs from being severed. So this pain was new to even him.
The arrow was made to tear through Elyon's magic, the same magic that kept him intact, so of course it actually succeed where countless other tries had failed.
His left arm hit the ground just as the pain bloomed in his gushing, cleanly cut stump. It was a testament to his life that he held in the scream in his throat, but he could not stop himself from sinking to his knees as he gripped reflexively at his arm, feeling hard bone, sticky flesh, and an endless waterfall of warm, oozing blood between his fingers.
"Taranee, Hay-Lin, with me!" Wilhelmina roared, snapping everyone from their daze. "Cornelia, Irma, heal him! Matt defend Elyon! Raythor, Julian, ready your men!"
There was a flash of light as they all took their magic forms, the three Guardians darting through the broken window and the Earth Regent hovering outside the now open space, wings extended to block the queen from view. Raythor and a few others quickly rushed from the room.
Irma was the first to his side, gaining her senses as she dropped to him, knees slipping in the pool of red.
"Okay, princy, I expect no complaints today," she said quickly, voice firm, not waiting for permission this time as her hands glowed with magic.
He wanted to retort something dry and sarcastic, but he could not speak. His jaw clenched closed from the pain. His vision was specked with black dots, as his heart thundered in his chest, shaking his brain against his skull with every frantic beat.
Even the sensation of cool water was not enough to douse the fierce fire that scorched his limb. He could not help but try to flex his missing hand. Brain fully panicked at the lack of response.
"Snap the fuck out of it, guys!" Irma yelled.
At that, Caleb was fast to react, rushing to Cornelia and shaking her. "You need to reattach his arm! You are the only healer in the castle able to do it!"
Stopping the blood from leaking from either ends of his limb, Irma encased the cut portion in a bubble of water, tinted a darkening pink, and placed it against the cleanly cut section of his bicep once she pried his hand free of the stump.
"Cornelia," Elyon called, tears streaming down her face. "Please, hurry. If that arrow broke my spell, it might break Weira's. He might actually, actually," she let out a shaky breath. "Cornelia, please!"
The tall blond was pale as she nodded, dropping to the other side of his arm.
"This will hurt," Cornelia warned, voice quivering. "I need to reattach… everything. Your nerves will… I'm sorry. I'm just so sorry."
Elyon dropped behind him, trembling hands trying to hold him still as Cornelia ignited with her full power, eyes glowing, flowers blooming from her very hair, becoming the living embodiment of nature.
And as she started connecting his body back together, every buzzing nerve, every sinew of torn muscle, every stretch of sliced flesh, this time he couldn't hold back the screams.
