Sunlight | Luke Castellan

XXIX. the haunting of icarus

   CHIRON HAD ADDED a clock to the decor in his office.

A tall grandfather clock towered behind me by the door, giving soft ticks at every second. I sat hunched in the chair in front of his desk, my fingers thumbing at each individual bead on my metal bracelet. At this point, I'd memorized the Ancient Greek letters so well that I could write it perfectly without even looking.

Tick. Tock.

The space across from me was empty. I'd raced to the Big House the moment everyone was dismissed for the campfire, but I'd found myself in an empty office. My only friend was the clock ticking behind me monotonously, and that relationship was dangling on a precariously thin line.

Tick. Tock.

My fingers moved to the starfish clasp on Asterías, and I could feel the ancient power of the blade vibrate. I sometimes wondered if the weapon had a heart of its own, but the question seemed absurd. Then again, I once thought that monsters could only be as dangerous as my former step-father.

I'd let the clasp turn until it would threaten to come undone, and then I'd screw it back together tightly. My eyes were unfocused as I stared at the mahogany desk, only using the noise and pressure from the silver starfish as my guide. A part of me wanted to let Asterías fully release, but I kept the blade away. There would be a time for it to see battle, and I wouldn't find victory by marring wooden furniture.

Tick. Tock.

The door behind me creaked, and I quickly stood to my feet to see Chiron wheel himself into the room. The centaur slammed his hand to shut it behind him, and the sound was so harsh that I knew it echoed throughout the entire farmhouse. He didn't bother to move behind his desk. Formalities were a luxury that he could no longer afford.

"Who are they sending?" I immediately questioned, and he winced.

"I haven't been told yet," he admitted truthfully. He lifted a hand and pressed it against his forehead, and his brows furrowed. "It doesn't matter who my replacement is. I've been given a few extra days to pack and welcome them. What matters, at this particular moment, is your safety."

"My- Chiron!" I exclaimed in frustration, my hands thrown momentarily in the air as I shook my head in disbelief. "This camp isn't safe! The borders are down, and monsters could show up at any minute! How am I a priority right now?"

"Because you are a mortal," the centaur insisted, his hand dropping down to his lap. His shoulders were tensed, and he wheeled closer to my chair. "And not only a mortal, but a mortal who has been called to represent the gods in an approaching war." My hands clenched into fists. "Olympus knows who you are, and so do our enemies. That line of separation is not as visible as you think. There are beings who hate you just because of what you are, and they would kill for a chance to hold a position of honor such as yours."

My lips pressed together in a thin line. I wanted to tell him that I didn't care, but it would have been immature and not even truthful. Some of my courage faltered at the idea of being on some immortal's kill list. "So was it your idea for me to have a god for a babysitter?"

"Of course not," Chiron answered, and he seemed to sag in his wheelchair. "And if it was, do you really think Mr. D would have agreed?" He had a point. I returned to my chair, and the centaur wheeled himself to the other side of the desk so that we could still see face to face. "You are the champion of Olympus, but your patron is the only one who has authority over you. Who do you think finds that fact troubling?"

I didn't need to verbalize my answer; a low rumble of thunder lightly shook the Big House. I scowled up at the ceiling as the electric lights flickered. Zeus had ordered for Mr. D to keep watch over me. From the look on the god's face during dinner, I was glad to find that neither one of us were pleased by this arrangement.