Child you locked them in jar

My father sounds exasperated with me. I pout, poring over the scrolls spread out on the table in the library. My father has ceaselessly encouraged me to study over these past weeks. These weeks... blissful weeks. Thelios leaves at dawn's earliest light to fulfill his duties as the Captain of the Recondites. Poppy and I have breakfast together, then one of the Postites steals her away to show her all the sorts of things that a normal child would never see; gravestones being carved, mourning flowers being cultivated, sweetbreads being baked for funerals with crossbones frosted on the top.

She barely speaks, but the postites talk to her anyway. Between them and the gargoyles, I have time to come here and study with Alnue everyday.

Then Thelios comes home. Sometimes he makes it for dinner, sometimes not, but he always makes sure to come in time to tuck in Poppy. Then, it's just the two of us.

I blush with a soft sigh, just thinking of how wonderful it is to have a male with me at night. Even in the temple of Death I can have a domestic bliss, a family.

A dark shadow moves across the far wall, startling me back to the task at hand.

The Fourth House hearts sit in their jar on the table, mocking my efforts to set their spirits free to go to the Underworld. It was a complete and utter failure. I look again at the scroll of Reincarnate, the one I used to give the angry souls enough corpulence to "kill" them again. Then I trapped them in the jar, accidentally.

"This is hard," I sigh. I search through the other texts on the table. "Summoning, these are all about summoning demons, Alnue. That can't be what I want to do. Father is there something else?"

Keep them in the jar

I just heave a sigh. I can't keep them trapped. It's terrible.

They will serve you

"I don't need angry-spirit servants, father," I mumble.

They may be useful

I study for a moment or two longer until I feel my father's presence fade. Biting my lip, I slide out the scroll I have hidden under the others.

My fingertips trace over the demon's picture. I was right, it is a gano lizard. It is eerily similar to the tattoo inked on Thelio's bicep. His tattoo demon is dying, however, with a blade stuck down his maw through his throat. I look again at the words.

This story is less informative than the one in the Recondite's mausoleum. I would love to go back and research that space. I don't want to intrude on Thelios' while he's training his warriors. He doesn't like for me to go to the barracks, anyway. It's 'too rough' for me, whatever that means.

A sudden chatter brings my eyes over to Alnue. He holds up a roll of papyrus as large as him with the pride of a hunter with a lion.

"What is it, Al?" I take it from him and unfurl it. It's a charcoal rubbing of the wall carving from the mausoleum.

"You're the best," I whisper to him. He blushes.

He sought the fire until one day a Flame was born-

I drop the papyrus in frustration. I just need some sort of confirmation that this is him. That somehow this warrior has been brought here with Thane's face and poof, he's my new Fated mate.

Something is going on. The machinations of the gods are churning and boiling and I am far too curious to let it all happen without trying to puzzle through it.

The shadow against the wall moves and I jump, dropping the scroll. It falls to the floor with a clatter. A single sheet of paper whooshes out to curl through the air into a corner under the table.

When I pick it up I gasp. It's written in a familiar hand, Patriarch Rimon's, to be exact. I carefully smooth it out, feeling that he is somehow here, with me, reaching out from the Underworld.

When I read his note I think maybe he really is here.

Mara is the Flame - who is this male? When will he appear? Is he her second Fated?

My second Fated? So... Thelios isn't Thane? He has no memories, no life before waking in the desert months ago. How is it really possible that he isn't my Fated? Unless... are they the same body but different souls? Or... is Thelios, Thane, just with his memories erased?

Sighing, I rest my forehead on the desk. Whispers of sorrow dance in my mind. Grief never seems to cease.

I need a break from this. I should take Poppy to see her aunties. Standing, I stretch my back out, feeling the crack with relief. Mishu and Mushu wake up, startled, hissing at the shadows in the corner before coming to me. Momo is still asleep, drooling on the tabletop. With a wicked grin, Mishu pounces on his brother, cackling with delight when Momo lets out a squeak of surprise and tumbles off the table to the floor.

I walk through the door, ignoring the squabbling gargoyles wrestling behind me.

"Mara," Postite Banio greets me, Poppy tucked into his arms, a wooden spoon in her fist and powdered sugar on her mouth. "The First House ladies are here."

Again?

---

I glare at my warriors. Gods, even the twelve with the hawk are slower than they should be. Belen and Hanish show the most promise, that is if Belen ever drags himself out of his female's bed long enough to train properly.

I don't even look his way when he arrives, disheveled and scenting of sex and his female, panting from sprinting across the district.

"Am I late?" he sucks in air, strapping his weapons on.

"Obviously," I snort. "I was here on time," I add.

He tosses me a glare. "You fly, ass. I have to run across the damn district to get here. You know how embarrassing it is to run across the damn War district every morning?"

"Convince her to move here," I shrug. His problem, not mine.

Belen scowls. "She won't budge. Says she earned her freedom and won't give it up to follow a male."

I shrug. "She's a prostitute. Something made her desperate. Made any discoveries there?"

His jaw ticks. "Nothing," he spits out. "She's tight-lipped about it all. She's from the First House, originally, that's all I know."

My own jaw clenches. "The First House, hmm?" I haven't told Belen all that my Sprite told me. That her first Fated was from the First House. The missing Lord of that House, in fact. I frown to myself. I've increased patrols in the First, given instructions to my Recondites to not keep to their typical routes, to poke around the nobles houses, rile them up a little. So far, no complaints, but I know that the tension is rising on the palatial hill.

"Esa won't move, won't let me pay her rent, won't take gifts from me," Belen scowls. "She lets me pay her fees, that's all. I'm paying her to be with her at night."

"Does she take other clients?" I ask lowly, as he finishes strapping up his boots and stands.

Belen snorts. "You think I'd allow that? Some male showed up that first night and I threw him through her wall." He grins. "It was a good plan. I'm still fixing the hole."

We both laugh. Belen is dragging out the repairs, making sure he has a ready excuse to be with his female as much as possible.

"Alright!" I bellow out. All my warriors stop to look at me. I look them over. Twelve with the tattoo, seventeen more recruits, five freshies who have yet to prove themselves capable. I eye the freshies. I don't know if training is my strength. I already don't have much patience with it.

A screeching grey body pummels into me.

"Fucking shit!" I roar. Mishu screams, grabbing my face and slapping my cheeks over and over.

I grab him and pull him away. He is panicked, leaping about, chattering hysterically while pointing toward the Death temple.

"Belen, take over training," I say grimly.

---

I can feel his presence before he speaks. My heart pounds and my head swims dizzyingly. This is a moment I have dreaded for weeks. I don't turn around, I just keep my gaze fixed on Lady Kaimi, waiting for the recognition to dawn.

It doesn't take long. Her eyes widen in shock, then tear in pleasure. I don't look at Anthea's face. I'm not strong enough to see the expression on her face when she sees Thelios.

"T-Thane?" Lady Kaimi stammers. "Are you real?" Her voice falls to a whisper pitch.

Thelios says nothing. I gather all of my courage, and still I can't turn around to see his face as his past confronts him in the flesh.

"Sprite, are you well?" his words are murmured, but not low enough that they can't be overheard by his mother.

My breath catches. He asked after me first. Nateos, will he remember?

"Mara?" he says so softly that this time I know that no one else can hear.

I nod, but spin around finally. Grey eyes filled with concern meet mine. He isn't even looking at my visitors.

"Thelios," I respond automatically to my lover with his name falling from my lips naturally.

My lover. He is my lover, my only lover, and now his first love is standing less than ten measures from him.

"What is upsetting you?" he asks in an even lower voice. He moves closer to me, his cloak brushing against my skirts. We are standing as close as only intimate lovers do, a hair's breadth away from truly touching.

"Gods!" the second call from his- from Lady Kaimi is full of anguish and confusion. "Is it- is it truly you?"

Thelios ignores her. If I didn't know any better I would say he is doing it on purpose. I would think that he is denying that he is Thane, that he does recognize Thane's mother and is choosing to not acknowledge her.

But I do know better. How many times does Thelios ignore someone in favor of speaking with me? I come first with him, always. At least, I do for now.

Lady Kaimi steps forward towards us and Thelios moves with her, fluidly stepping in front of me, protective as usual. It brings him only an arms length away from her.

He finally meets her eyes. He has her eyes, he is staring into eyes his own color; this is his mother.

"Lady, I must insist you step away from the Sibylline," he warns Lady Kaimi sternly.

Lady Kaimi sucks in a deep, pain-filled breath. Her right hand comes up to press against her chest as if she needs to physically hold her own heart in.

Then she speaks. "It is you," Lady Anthea says in a breathy voice.

I fight back the urge to scowl at her. Her voice, the sotto-voice of a true lady, or so I thought. I can never achieve that breathless anticipation, even when Thelios pleasures me I sound so different.

Then again, apparently my voice is very soothing. To Poppy, to my gargoyles, to the countless mourners who come to the temple. So my voice is fine, perfectly acceptable.

I meet the grey eyes of my Recondite Captain as he looks back at me. "Why are they here and addressing me?" he mutters.

"To ask a favor from Nateos' daughter," I tell him half the truth. They are here to once again proclaim Thane dead. It still hasn't been close to a year, yet. They still have not learned that the House of Death won't change the rules for them.

He looks at me, sharp eyes seeing my pallor, even more than usual, and the haunted look I'm sure is in my eyes. He sees me, this male. He knows that this is not a visit I am comfortable with.

"Shall I send them away?" he murmurs to me, gently stroking a piece of my hair from my cheek.

I just stare at him in bemusement. This is not what I expected from him when he saw them again. His memory loss is not affected by his own wife and mother. How strange.

"Husband? My love?" Anthea pleads again.

Now, finally, those grey eyes turn to her. I hold my breath, feeling my stomach lurch sickeningly. With a sense of distant satisfaction I watch as warm grey eyes grow remote and cold as they feast on the famous beauty for the first time in months.

"Who are you addressing, madam?" his voice is as chilly as the desert night.

Tears prick her long, thick lashes. "My Thane," she breathes, "what has happened to you?"

"Thane?" he asks. I see the swift recognition of that name dawn in him. Icy disdain descends on those greys. I wonder, has the lady Anthea ever been subjected to that cruel look before? "I am not your bonded, madam," he says coldly.

"You are my Thane," she sobs before throwing herself at him.

He removes her in an action so swift that all I see is the Lady falling to her hands and knees a length away from Thelios.

"Son!" Lady Kaimi gasps in shock.

"Are they calling me him?" Thelios asks me incredulously. "Is this some sick sort of joke?"

"Thelios," I say his name softly.

"Thane!" Lady Anthea regains her feet and screeches at him. Gone is the sotto-voice, replaced by a harpy, I think.

"Do not!" he snarls, flashing fangs that I didn't know he had.

"Thelios, you-" I falter in an explanation, "you don't remember. I- you," I stumble.

"No!" he snarls. "I am not Thane of the First House. I have never been such a weasel, a coward, such filth."

Both Ladies of the First House suck in deep breaths at his slurs.

"Thelios," I whisper.

"You can be no other," Lady Kaimi asserts. Passion suddenly seems to fill her, making her straighten her spine. Determination steals over her face. "It is not possible that you are anyone other than my own son. You are Thane of the First House. This is your wife, the Lady Anthea. You have two children. A family. You were stolen from us from the Fifth House. Killed. Murdered. Or so we thought."

She moves forward to cup Thelios' cheek in her palm. I wonder at her boldness. A Recondite is not someone you touch freely or without their permission. "You are my son. I know my own son."

He flicks her hand away. "Lady, I am Thelios, Captain of the Recondites. I have no House. I have no wife." He looks at the pale and shaken Anthea. "I am not your Fated." He looks at me. "Priestess, I must insist on escorting you back to your chambers. Now."

A firm hand is wrapped around my elbow. With my gargoyles hissing in disapproval toward the Ladies, Thelios marches me from the room.

When we reach the sanctuary of my rooms he releases me and spins around, slamming his hands through his short curls.

"What is this, Mara? What were those ladies speaking of?"

I lick my lips, thinking. The pain in his eyes is crippling to see. I don't want to tell him the truth. I can't tell him that he is the monster he so abhors. I don't want to. I fear losing him too much.

"Mara, please!"

"Thane of the First was condemned to die for his offense against the Fifth House. He - the Love priests sent him, to the desert, to die a death of the sands, in payment for the crimes... against me."

"I know this," he rasps out when I fall silent.

I nod. He does know about the curse and Thane's fate.

"You are his spitting image, Thelios."

He stares at me, grey eyes pleading for something... for me to tell him this is nothing more than a joke. The silence stretches as his gaze falls from me. He swallows, his short beard shifting as his jaw clenches.

"My tattoos" he grasps at an excuse, anything to tell him that I'm wrong. I understand, I've been searching for a month for some other explanation.

I shake my head, "what are some marks on your skin mean against the will of the gods? We both know what they are capable of. I don't know who you were, Thelios. I have ideas, but I keep seeing Thane of the First's eyes... in your face."

He scowls. "So, this is why you were so cold to me? You believe this? That I am this mongrel reborn?"

I open my mouth to say something, hopefully something comforting, but nothing emerges. What can I say? This is a disaster that I saw coming but did nothing to prevent.

"I'm sorry, Thelios," because I am sorry. I'm sorry he has to know the truth, or at least this piece of it..

"You should have told me, Mara," he snaps angrily. "I should not have been made unaware that those females would try and convince me that I am Thane of the First."

"You-you appeared in the desert just when he died, Thelios. What are the odds of that?" I ask gently.

He paces angrily, a behemoth of a male in my suddenly-too-small living quarters.

"Thelios..." I breath in distress as he slams his fists down on his thighs. I lift a trembling hand to press on his arm.

He strikes, lightning-quick, yanking me flush to his body, his mouth devouring mine.

"I will not let you go. You are my only female, my bride," he growls against my lips. Lips trail downward, to my neck, my collarbone. Teeth nip at the soft flesh there, leaving marks behind in a display of ownership that I might be bothered to care about tomorrow. Not now, no now I will revel in this male.