Page 43 of The Cursed Chalice
Nisa smiles up at Hecate. “I have to go wash up. See you at the table?”
Hecate stretches her hand out to Nisa. “If I’m staying, it’s best I do the same.”
Nisa watches her hand and slowly takes it into hers.
Both Aric and I look at Nisa, and we feel…at ease knowing that the child is beginning to feel safe. Nisa and Hecate leave the room, their chatter fading down the hallway.
“Should we go to dinner, Aric?” I ask out loud. I look across the windowpane. Something I hardly see is the back of Aric’s head. His arms are behind his back as he looks out into the garden.
“I think if she made an effort to cook for us…”
I push the air hard through my nostrils. “We should dine.”
Walking to the door, I hear a tutting sound.
“What?”
“Are you really going to dinner dressed like that?”
I look down at myself. Oxfords, slacks, black silk shirt. “What’s the problem?”
Aric turns to me in disgust. “You killed a man in these clothes. The least you can do is change your shirt.”
He was right. “Fine.”
I didn’t have any shirts at the office. Closing my eyes, I materialize and allow my body to float through the walls until I reach up the stairs and then my room.
I walk into my closet and realize something for the first time. I wear only four colors. Red, dark blue, black, and white. I search through my closet, remembering that I have a dark purple shirt.It does take me long to find it. I dress and spritz some cologne on and look into the mirror.
I touch my scar. The doubts invade my mind. Suppose I can’t make her fall for me? I have a scar; maybe she thinks I am a monster.
“We may be scarred, but we are handsome. Stop hiding and go.”
“I am not hiding,” I grumble under my breath. Slowly, I walk out of my bedroom, across the hall, and down the stairs. Could I have been in the kitchen in the blink of an eye? Yes, but I do have humans in my house.
“Silly excuse if you ask me.”
“No one is asking you, Aric,” I respond.
A rare sound bounces off my wall. Phobos was laughing.
“Two words, one finger,” Deimos shouts.
I walk into the dining room. The table is a long monolithic slab of black marble veined with gold, and it’s the first thing that stands out.
The high-backed chairs were created by one of Hephaestus’s interns. Upholstered in oxblood leather and brushed with copper, each one is comfortable and intimidating.
The laughing stops, and all eyes are on me.
“Well, don’t just stand there like a cypress tree. Sit. By the Fates.” Hecate shakes her head in disgust.
Just as I was about to sit, Soraya sails into the room with a tray of what looks like pita and tzatziki.
I grip the top of the chair, looking at her. I can see hints of Talia in her. The goodness, the way she moves and smiles.
Before I can stop myself, I ask, “Do you need help?”
Again, the table stops and looks at me like I grew an extra head.
