Empress of the Gods

Atarah

Rhiannon’s golden braid rested on her silver cloak, as she stood with her back to the cottage as if searching for threats among the trees. Her sword was buried in the ground, and she had her hands behind her back. Atarah knew Rhiannon was paying attention to every single detail around her. Her adoptive mother didn’t look at her when she stood next to her, but her silence said a lot. The General of the Witches of Khrysaor was standing straight with an unexpressive face, but she knew there was a calm anger hidden under that facade. Rhiannon Silverclaw imposed with her mere presence wherever she appeared, but seeing her that way made her understand why she was as respected as she was feared.

Feeling a knot in her stomach, she waited for the General to speak.

“Do you care to explain what happened?” Rhiannon demanded to know in an authoritative tone. It was the first time Atarah felt intimidated by her. The moment she was going to answer, Rhiannon took the words out of her mouth. “I asked you one thing, and you disobeyed me,” she said, gritting her teeth without looking at her. “You heard the alarm. You knew I had to be at front defending the Whitebridge border, and what happens when I return home? My daughter didn’t do the one thing she was supposed to do.” The tone of her voice was calm but cold.

“I heard someone screaming in the forest, and I thought they needed help,” she tried to explain.

“You disobeyed me, Atarah,” Rhiannon interrupted her, raising her voice as she angrily turned to see her.

“The decision I made wasn’t out of the blue. Don’t scold me like a child,” she protested. If someone else spoke to the General or even the coven leader in that way, she wouldn’t overlook it. Although she doubted someone else even dared to breathe in the wrong way when their leader scolded them.

“Then don’t act like one,” she scolded her in a high tone. Her adoptive mother wasn’t talking; the General was. “Your sister is barely twenty winters old. You should know that if I’m not there to take care of her, you must be.”

Atarah didn’t answer, only clenched her fists, feeling her nails dig into her skin. After all, that was what was expected of her as the oldest daughter of the General. She had to be a role model to Myrah, and she was not allowed to make any mistakes. She was expected to do as she was told without any question about it. She had to be the perfect daughter no matter what.

“Myrah told me you ran into a hunter in the forest, in addition to this one.” The General moved forward with the conversation, expecting her to tell her what happened. It seemed as if she didn’t plan to discuss her disobedience anymore, only it was far from being over, and they both knew it. Rhiannon still treated her like a child, even when she wasn’t one anymore.

“The hunter wasn’t alone. He was working with men that look like mercenaries.” Rhiannon looked at her, waiting for her to continue. “They were looking for one of us,” she said, referring to her and Myrah.

“They were after you,” she affirmed.

Atarah knew it deep inside, only she expected to be wrong. It also explained so much. “There’s no way to be sure about it.”

“They were looking for you,” Rhiannon repeated, softening her gaze when she said it.

When they were younger, Rhiannon told them that creatures from other kingdoms were looking for them, and some of them without the best intentions. She tried to explain to them what she knew about their kind and the driadae kingdom of Drykahria, only it was never enough for Atarah. She wanted to know more.

Atarah always felt different, even if her sister was like her.

Still trying to accept what Rhiannon told her, she added: “There’s something else.” Rhiannon patiently waited. “I found a strange dagger. The messenger who carried it appeared dead on the riverbank,” she continued as she described to her what the dagger looked like and how she found it.

Rhiannon seemed to be analyzing every word she said, as if she could find something else. Not only was she good at wielding a sword and conjuring spells that helped her in battle, but she was also one of the best strategists the Silverclaw clan had. All those skills she acquired over the years were what positioned her as one of the favorites to occupy the leadership of Lhrastsha. Without forgetting, she once was the favorite to sit on the throne, and if she had done so, no one would have dared to challenge her because if they did, they would end up with the God of the underworld. Plus, she was one of the best warriors the witches had, but also was someone to whom no one could say no. At the end of the day, everything had to be done in her own way.

Rhiannon preferred to give orders rather than receive them. Uncontrollable, but at the same time, she wanted to be in control of everyone.

“Was it really necessary?” she asked angrily, remembering how she put the sword on her neck, and she wouldn’t let it pass easily. “Why did you link his life to mine?”

The General sighed before answering. “Do you remember what we talked about the last spring equinox?” Rhiannon didn’t wait for her answer as they started walking towards the cottage. “You’ll have to go to Euthoria and look for the leader of the Alastair Bohr house,” she ended up saying when they stopped at the entrance of the house.

“Euthoria?” she asked, confused, knowing that was dark walkers’ land.

“Who is going with them?” Aeron asked, as if he was aware of it. He wouldn’t argue with her about it, but something told her he didn’t fancy the idea.

Rhiannon only glared at the stranger in response.

The stranger folded his arms. “I won’t set foot in dark walkers’ territory,” he answered bluntly, which made Atarah nervous because no one said no to Rhiannon and less if she wasn’t in the mood for it. She could swear Aeron was about to cut him in half with his sword for speaking in that way to his General.

“Scared, hunter?” Rhiannon asked with a feline smile on her beautiful, slightly freckled face.

Aeron looked at her as if he wanted to discuss it in private while Atarah tried to find out how Rhiannon was so certain the stranger was a hunter.

“William,” the hunter corrected. “My name is William,” he said, irritated. “And I won’t do it. Entering into dark walkers’ land without their permission is like asking for a death sentence, and I don’t feel like condemning myself just yet,” William firmly replied.

“You condemned yourself the moment you set foot in our territory. So, I suggest if you want to continue breathing, you take them without a single scratch,” Rhiannon threatened with an enigmatic smile.