Chapter 83 Theron’s bracelet
Amarien's POV
I was dimly aware of the silence before I understood it.
The whipped they lashed at me broke the bracelet. Theron's bracelet.
That's why he's here!
The courtyard had gone deathly still. Even the wind seemed to have paused, as if the world itself was holding its breath. My cheek lay pressed in the dirt, slick with blood and tears, my vision swimming. Shapes blurred together, but one shape stood apart from the rest.
Theron!
He moved like he owned the ground beneath his boots.
Theron walked forward slowly, the wolf fur of his coat brushing against his calves, dark and heavy, its presence obscene against the white stone of the nunnery. His steps were unhurried, almost leisurely, as if he had wandered into a poorly staged play and was mildly disappointed by the performance.
I heard him sigh.
A soft, almost regretful sound.
"This," he said, his voice smooth as polished steel, "is what passes for righteousness now?"
No one answered.
"Honestly," he continued, clicking his tongue, "if the gods are watching, they're either embarrassed or taking notes."
He looked around at the nuns and concubines, his gaze dragging over them with open disdain. Women who had raised whips moments earlier now trembled, hands shaking, eyes darting away from him as though eye contact alone might doom them.
"Look at you," Theron continued mildly. "A dozen grown women, armed and eager… and you chose a pregnant girl to prove your devotion to the gods."
His smirked went cold, "Beating a pregnant woman to death," he said conversationally. "I've seen barbarism in the south, but this?" He shook his head. "You're setting new standards."
His eyes flicked down to me.
Something unreadable passed through his expression.
"Pathetic."
Argos stepped forward, face tight with fury, her mouth twisted into something ugly and defiant. "This does not concern you," she snapped. "This harlot broke sacred law. She carries a cursed child."
Theron's wicked smirk resumed.
It was slow. Beautiful. Terrifying.
"Oh, I assure you," he said softly, "it concerns me very much."
He turned fully toward her, hands clasped loosely behind his back. "You see, I've watched wars start for less than this. Kingdoms burn over pregnant women. But here you are, playing executioner with the authority of your gods."
Argos scoffed. "I am not afraid of you, beast!"
He tilted his head, studying her as if she were a curious insect. "You should be."
Her lip curled. "Leave now, or I will summon the royal army."
Theron laughed.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't wild.
It was indulgent.
"The royal army?" he echoed. "Dear woman… if they come, it will be to kneel."
He took one step closer.
"I dare any one of you," he said calmly, voice carrying effortlessly across the courtyard, "to touch her again."
His eyes glinted like silver catching in the moonlight.
"I promise you won't enjoy what happens next."
The concubines recoiled as one, fear breaking through their cruelty. Whips slipped from nerveless fingers and struck stone with hollow thuds.
All except Argos.
She snarled and snatched her whip from the ground. "You don't command us," she spat. "This curse dies today."
When she raised the whip, I didn't scream.
I didn't move.
I couldn't.
The world narrowed to that single strip of leather slicing through the air toward me…
But it never landed.
Theron moved.
So fast my eyes couldn't follow.
One moment, he stood several paces away; the next, his hand was wrapped around Argos's throat. Her legs were far from the ground, wriggling desperately.
Her whip fell uselessly from her fingers.
She made a choking sound, eyes bulging, hands clawing at his wrist as she swung in the air. Theron leaned in close, his voice low and intimate, as if sharing a secret only she could hear.
"You talk too much," he murmured.
Then, Crack!
A sharp, sickening crack.
Argos's body went limp.
He broke her neck!!!
Theron released her without ceremony.
She crumpled to the stone like discarded cloth, her head striking the ground at an unnatural angle. Her eyes stared sightlessly at the sky. Her mouth hung open, frozen in outrage.
Dead.
The courtyard erupted.
Screams tore through the air. The concubines scattered in blind panic, trampling one another as they fled, robes tangling, terror overriding all pretense of sanctity. Some sobbed openly. Others ran without looking back, convinced death chased their heels.
Only one remained.
Orgah.
She was still tied to the pole, near the edge of the courtyard, shaking so violently her knees knocked together. Her eyes were wide and wet, fixed on Argos's body.
Theron watched the others flee with mild amusement, then turned back toward me.
The world tilted.
My vision dimmed, dark creeping in from the edges. My body felt impossibly heavy, every breath a battle. I was so tired. So unbearably tired.
He knelt beside me.
Up close, he smelled of cold air and pine and something wild beneath it all. His presence filled the space, commanding, overwhelming.
"Well," he said lightly, as if we were meeting under pleasant circumstances, "this is not how I hoped we'd reunite."
I tried to speak.
Nothing came out.
His gaze dropped to my hands, still clutched over my stomach, knuckles white with strain. The bracelet scattered onto the floor.
"I see it took the whip to bruise your pride and summon me." Something shifted in his expression.
"Stubborn," he murmured with soft amusement. "I like that."
My vision blurred completely as he slid one arm beneath my shoulders and the other under my knees. I barely felt myself lifted, though I knew it was happening by the way the ground fell away.
The movement jolted a groan from my throat.
I wanted to argue.
I wanted to stop him.
But my body betrayed me, sagging against his chest, the warmth of him anchoring me against the dark.
Orgah let out a small, broken sob. "Please," she whispered. "Please don't..."
Theron glanced at her over my head.
"Shsss," he said calmly, placing a finger on his lips.
He turned and began walking.
The Nunnery that had once caged me up began to narrow and narrow the further out the distance.
The sky spun.
My ears rang.
The last thing I saw before the darkness claimed me was Argos's body lying forgotten on the stone.
Then everything went black.