His eyes followed the snaking road that ran from the city entrance up past domes and towers, and all the way up to the castle, resting on a hill. That was the road General Draco had described in strategy meetings, the road they would travel to seize the castle. The road where blood would flow. The road that would be unrecognizable after they had marched through it. The wall around the city was tall, but with ladders, ropes, catapults, and flaming arrows, tens of thousands of Empire soldiers attacking at once, the city would be theirs soon enough, General Draco had said. And indeed it would, Thanos knew.
When he turned around to behold his crew, the tension on board had become so thick it felt like a wall around him. Was it more than just the nerves of the warriors he was detecting? The entire trip, Thanos had sensed someone or something watching him, although when he felt eyes burning at the back of his neck, he’d turn around to find no one and no thing. He would brush it off, thinking he was growing paranoid, but just when he had forgotten about it, again, it would suddenly be as if cold fingers were creeping down his spine.
He nodded toward General Draco, who stood by a giant of a man, wearing golden armor and a visored helmet. The hulk was the tallest Empire soldier Thanos had ever seen, a true giant. The Typhoon, the rest of the men on the ship called him, although Thanos doubted that was his real name. It was rumored the Typhoon had taken on a group of twenty wild northern warriors at once, and had killed them all in under five minutes.
General Draco and the Typhoon would lead the attack on the great city, and Thanos would bring in the second group of troops once the main gates had been opened. They would attack immediately, General Draco had ordered, not give the rebels of Haylon a chance to gather their armies, although Thanos didn’t doubt they had already seen their fleet of ships and that their army was more than ready to defend the city. No one would be able to defend against the numbers King Claudius had sent, Thanos knew.
Hundreds of rowboats were lowered onto the choppy azure ocean, and the Empire soldiers descended into the vessels with weapons and heavy armor. Some larger boats carried catapults and boulders.
General Draco invited Thanos into his boat, and Thanos took a seat next to the Typhoon. He felt like a dwarf next to the beast.
“Remember, the goal is to take the city in under an hour, before nightfall,” General Draco said. “Kill anyone who resists.”
“We will spare the women and children, correct?” Thanos said.
“As long as they obey,” General Draco said. “As long as they bow before the Empire’s banner and pledge to submit to the king’s laws.”
“I don’t see how the women and children will be a threat, even if they did resist,” Thanos said.
“It is the king’s orders. I do not question them,” General Draco snapped, glaring at Thanos.
Thanos looked away, but he made a decision to not kill women or children – not even if they rebelled.
They arrived at shore and Thanos hopped out of the boat, the warm water reaching right above his knees as he hauled the heavy oak vessel toward land with other Empire soldiers. Just as he glanced back, Thanos noticed that General Draco and the Typhoon looked at each other, and then the general nodded before heading toward the white, sandy beach.
At first, Thanos considered the gesture somewhat suspicious, but when the general turned to him and nodded, too, he thought nothing more of it.
The boats were hauled ashore, the weapons and artillery placed into wagons, and the Empire soldiers organized into twelve battalions, Thanos to lead one of them.
He took his place in front of his men and led them southward, down the coastline, wading through ankle-high water. He felt that familiar sensation running through him, a combination of excitement, fear, and adrenaline: the battle was about to begin.
Yet Thanos had not gone very far, the water still splashing on his ankles, when suddenly, without warning, he felt a shooting pain in his upper back.
He dropped to his knees, stunned, not understanding what was happening.
He felt cold metal in his back, and with a start, he realized: he had been stabbed.
He knelt there, lightheaded, not understanding. They were still far off from reaching the enemy.
Then Thanos felt the sword being pulled out of him, and he shrieked, the pain unbearable. He looked up to see the Typhoon step in front of him, wiping the blade of his sword clean of Thanos’s blood.
He grinned down, and that was when Thanos realized: he was being assassinated.
And no one was turning to help him.
“Any last words?” the Typhoon asked, his voice impossibly deep.
Thanos gasped for air.
“Who sent you?” he managed to ask.
“I will tell you,” the Typhoon replied. “When you’re dead.”
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
Ceres sat in the dungeon on the damp floor, her back against the cold stone wall, fully defeated as an endless stream of tears trailed down her face. How – how was she to continue on? Thanos had left her. Nesos was dead. And worst of all, Rexus…
She let out a faint sob and inhaled a jagged breath as the memory came rushing back. Rexus, shot in the back, falling from her reach, backwards, out of the tower window. Torn away from her when they had been so close, so close to starting a new life together.
It was too cruel.
Ceres sobbed. There was nothing more to fear now, she realized. Not even her life mattered anymore, it seemed.
She did not know how much time had passed when she heard footsteps coming down the hallway. She didn’t move. She was beyond caring what the royals did to her, so much so that if they were coming to kill her, she would welcome the merciful death.
A woman and three men appeared on the other side of the bars. Ceres refused to look up, but she knew from the overly sweet rose perfume that the woman was Stephania.
An Empire soldier unlocked the cell, but Ceres’s gaze remained on the floor. She would not acknowledge them.
“You have been ordered to the Stade,” an Empire soldier said.
Ceres didn’t move.
“You will compete in the Killings.”
Ceres felt the life rush out of her. So. They would kill her after all.
The soldier grabbed her by the arm, jerked her to a standing position, and bound her wrists behind her back. When Ceres finally looked up, she saw Stephania smiling.
Stephania stepped forward.
“Before you die,” she said, venom in her voice, “I thought you might like to know something.”
She leaned in close, her breath uncomfortably hot on Ceres’s neck.
“I sent a messenger to Haylon,” she said, “bearing a very special message. I told Thanos never to defy me. Never to make a fool of me. Now, finally, he has learned why.”
She beamed, satisfied, though Ceres did not know why.
“Thanos,” she said, “is dead.”
The Empire soldiers hauled Ceres through the musty dungeon corridor and up the stairwell. They dragged Ceres outside and led her to an enclosed horse-pulled wagon. Once the door was locked and the soldiers had taken their seats at the front, the wagon rolled out of the palace courtyard and onto the streets of Delos. They passed houses, and weaved through hordes of citizens making their way to the Stade.
Ceres hardly took notice of her surroundings; everything passed by in a blur. Nothing mattered anymore. Everyone she loved was either far away or dead.
In a daze, she realized they were moving through Fountain Square, and Rexus’s face flashed before her eyes. Just weeks ago they were here, happy, hopeful, free.
And just yesterday, he had been in her arms, professing his love; and a moment later, he had fallen to his death. How could a being so vibrant, so alive, now be nothing more than a memory?