“Where are you going?”
I turned, my chest tightening at the sight of a woman standing in the doorway. She looked like Khillea but older—more regal, with an aura that seemed to radiate divinity.
My breath caught. This had to be Thetis.
I stayed silent for a long moment, weighing her words, before finally responding.
“Back to where I belong,” I said quietly, my voice even but carrying an undertone of resignation.
Thetis didn’t seem deterred by my tone. She tilted her head slightly, her expression an intriguing mixture of playfulness and earnestness.
“You can leave after. I just want to speak to you,” she said, her gaze fixed on me.
Before I could say anything more, Khillea spoke up. Her lips curled into a teasing smile, and her voice took on a sultry edge. “Oh, mother, look—it’s him,” she said, gesturing toward me dramatically. “The man who so generously impregnated me with his seed.”
Her boldness made my breath hitch. She continued, her cheeks glowing as her fingers trailed down toward the water’s edge, hinting at her intentions.
“He’s excellent at sex. I still feel so hot down there,” she murmured, her words dripping with unabashed sensuality as she reached toward her pussy.
Thetis, who had been silent thus far, allowed her sharp, discerning eyes to survey the scene. Her gaze moved deliberately—first to the wet bed, then to the unmistakable scent of raw passion that still lingered faintly in the air. She didn’t need to ask what had occurred; the evidence was as plain as day.
“Having sex with a man—again, the same man no less.” Thetis’s voice was calm but carried a subtle undertone of intrigue as she stepped further into the room. “It seems you hold him in rather high regard, Khillea.”
I considered leaving at that moment, but the idea quickly proved futile. Escaping wouldn’t solve anything and might only complicate matters further.
Khillea, undeterred, leaned back against the edge of the bath with a dreamy expression. “Yes, I suppose I was quite lucky that he was my first,” she said, her words tinged with fondness.
Thetis’s expression softened for a moment as she knelt gracefully by the water’s edge. Reaching out, she placed her hand gently on Khillea’s belly. Her touch was tender.
“And how is my grandchild?” she asked, her smile serene and genuine.
Khillea’s lips curled into a playful smirk, and her gaze flickered toward me.
“Good. Even better now, after spending more time with her father,” she added, her tone laced with mischief.
Thetis ignored the jab and continued her line of questioning. “When do you expect her to be born?”
Khillea tilted her head thoughtfully, her expression momentarily serious.
“I’m not entirely sure. Maybe two weeks? A month at most?” she answered, her tone casual but uncertain.
Thetis’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a more contemplative look. She fixed her gaze on her daughter, her voice soft but firm. “You still haven’t changed your mind, have you?”
I frowned slightly, trying to piece together the subtext of their conversation. Thetis’s words hinted at something deeper—something Khillea had already mentioned to me but clearly held more weight than I initially realized.
Khillea shook her head resolutely. “I told you already, Mother. You’ll be the only mother she’ll ever have. I can’t be fit to do that.”
“Nonsense,” Thetis said sharply, her frown deepening. “You can’t know that without even trying.”
But Khillea only smiled in response, a hint of sadness flickering in her golden eyes.
For now, I chose to stay silent, observing the dynamic between mother and daughter. It was clear this wasn’t the first time they’d discussed this. The words carried history, a weight of previous arguments and unresolved tension.
Thetis sighed heavily, her shoulders sagging in reluctant defeat. “You’re so obstinate,” she muttered, exasperated. After a moment, she turned toward Patroclus, who had been standing awkwardly to the side the entire time. “Stay here, Patroclus, and try to talk some sense into your cousin. She needs to see reason.”
Patroclus chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head. “I’ll do my best,” he replied, though his tone suggested he didn’t expect much success.
Thetis straightened and turned her attention fully toward me. Without warning, she placed a hand on my shoulder, her touch firm yet strangely calming.
“Come with me,” she said simply.
Before I could even process her words, my vision blurred, the edges of reality warping and twisting like ripples on the surface of water. The world around me dissolved into a cascade of shifting colors and light. When my senses steadied, I found myself standing in a different place entirely—Thetis’s lone dimension. The air was cool and still, carrying an aura of timelessness, as though this space existed outside the bounds of reality itself.
“Now, tell me who you are?” Thetis’s voice cut through the silence, her tone sharp and direct. Her piercing gaze locked onto mine, as though she could unearth the truth with sheer willpower.
I had anticipated this question. It was inevitable, given the circumstances.
“I am Nathan,” I replied evenly, keeping my expression composed. “From the Spartan army. I believe you’re already aware of that.”
Feigning ignorance seemed the safest approach—for now.
Thetis’s lips curved into a faint, humorless smile, her eyes narrowing slightly. “We both know you are more than that,” she said, her voice carrying an unmistakable weight. “Yes, you may indeed belong to the Spartan army, but I am certain you are not just another soldier. There’s something about you that feels… unnatural. It’s better for you to be honest with me now because if I have to uncover the truth myself, let’s just say I have little patience for liars.”
Her voice grew colder, more pointed. “The choice is yours, Nathan. But I warn you—antagonizing a goddess is rarely a wise decision.”
I met her gaze without flinching, her threat sliding off me like water against stone. Her intimidation was palpable, but I had faced worse. Aphrodite and Amaterasu stood firmly in my side just in case, and their influence was no small matter. Still, I had no desire to needlessly provoke another goddess.
I took a measured breath, weighing my response carefully. If all she wanted was information, there was no harm in giving her some of the truth—on my terms.
“What do you intend to do with this information?” I asked, my tone calm but probing. “Are you afraid of something?”
Her expression hardened, and the air seemed to grow colder. “I want to know if it was mere coincidence that you crossed paths with Khillea,” she said, her words deliberate. “And if it was a coincidence that you… engaged with her in such an intimate way.”
I frowned, her accusation catching me off guard. “What exactly are you implying?”
“Did Hera send you?” she asked bluntly, her gaze unrelenting, searching for even the faintest trace of deceit.
“What?” I blurted, genuinely taken aback by the question.
Her eyes narrowed further, studying me as though my reaction alone could betray the truth. “You don’t seem to be acting,” she murmured, more to herself than to me.
“Why would Hera send me?” I asked, irritation seeping into my voice.
Thetis’s gaze remained icy, her demeanor unshaken. “It would be entirely within Hera’s nature to send one of her hounds to seduce and influence my daughter—especially given the current situation. If that were the case, I would even admit that you performed admirably.” Her voice carried a begrudging note of respect, though it was overshadowed by her mistrust.
“Hera didn’t send me,” I said firmly, locking eyes with her to emphasize my sincerity. “Your daughter came to me of her own accord. Achilles, as she put it, gave his blessing—or at the very least didn’t object when she approached me. And let’s not forget, it was Patroclus who first reached out to me. I simply followed where they led.”
Thetis’s sharp gaze softened ever so slightly as she processed my words. Her expression was inscrutable, and the silence that followed was deafening. She studied me as though weighing the veracity of every syllable, searching for cracks in my composure but did not in the end.
“I may have been driven by desire when I first had sex with your daughter,” I admitted, keeping my tone sincere, “but that’s not the whole truth anymore. I’ve come to love and care for her deeply. I wouldn’t say this lightly, and I certainly wouldn’t lie about it.” I paused, then added, almost as an afterthought, “Oh, and for the record, I don’t hold Hera in very high esteem.”
Thetis chuckled softly, the sound rich with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that,” she said, her lips curving into a faint smile. “To speak so dismissively of Hera—the Queen Goddess of Olympus—takes a kind of courage most mortals lack. Perhaps my daughter chose more wisely than I gave her credit for.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied me, her expression contemplative. “You may not be as physically strong as her, but mentally…” She trailed off, her gaze growing distant for a moment. “Yes, you seem to have weathered trials far beyond what most could endure.”
Her words caught me off guard, and I raised an eyebrow, my confusion evident. “I’m not as strong as her?” I repeated, unsure if I’d heard her correctly.
Thetis’s face shifted subtly, her amusement giving way to mild confusion. “She didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?” I asked, my unease growing.
Her reaction surprised me. For the first time, Thetis looked genuinely taken aback. Her usually composed demeanor faltered as she seemed to grapple with an internal conflict. After a long pause, during which she seemed to weigh the consequences of her next words, she finally spoke.
“Khillea,” she began, her voice quieter but no less firm, “is Achilles.”