Little Saint Bride [Death and the Maiden, #1]

Chapter Twenty Four: Ponies, Goslings and Fools

I allow a small smile at how cute I find it.

Then I turn back to our arrivals, and realise that the man on the horse isn't just any man on a horse. No, I curse my unsuspecting self: just how many men on horses had I seen around here? Oh, no. The more my brain eases back to reality-- one which doesn't involve Hadrian-- the worse my feeling of foreboding becomes. A finer detail returns to my delirious brain. This particular man-on-a-horse called Hadrian by the familiar term brother.

Brother? Brother could be an affectionate term for a close friend, someone so close that they're practically related. But from the flashy white steed to the golden toe caps on the man's navy boots, I couldn't see Hadrian having anything in common with this man. Rather, I couldn't imagine Hadrian tolerating this show unless it was important.

Therefore, unless my ears had switched around syllables, then I'm standing before Chronus, King of Elysium and key to my escape from this land.

My freedom is riding a white pony and covered in sparkly jewellery-- it doesn't bode well.

Hadrian makes a noise that sounds like a violin rapidly going out of tune. 'Chronus,' he says weakly.

So it's true. The man before us really is the ruler of Elysium, the man that lives in the pretty white house in the centre of the world. 

'You're here,' Hadrian continues, his breath catching. 'So soon.'

So soon? My head whips in a devilish motion. Hadrian had known? Catching my glare, Hadrian passes me a fast, brief look, and mutters, 'I tried to tell you. Only...'

Only we got distracted? Only you interpreted the meaning much more suggestively?

When he'd said he had something important to tell me, hell's claws, couldn't he have made it clearer? Like, running-in-screaming, 'My brother is coming!' clear? In what sane mind had the pause of breaking the bad news been appropriate?

I'm fuming. 

'Of course I came as soon as I could, my dear little brother,' Chronus waves a hand, as if family favours are of old hat to him. Then he reaches down to his white horse, patting the animal fondly against its flank. 'Couldn't igore a summons from family, could I? I had Wesley to thank for my speedy arrival. Fastest hellhorse in Elysium, bred for speed.'

I blink. A what? If my confusion is obvious, the two men don't try to fill me in, but continue to engage in pleasantries. How is Hadrian's court? It's marvellous, thank you. Is Jefferson still going? Indeed, he is. Hadrian has stepped in front of me, as if he's pushing me out of the conversation entirely. My anger rises. 

I'm growing agitated at the statuesque soldiers around the king. They haven't moved an inch since they arrived, not even as Wesley decides to take a dump right by the ankles of one of the guards. They form an impenetrable barrier around Chronus that makes it difficult to approach him in any manner. Only Hadrian is invited in their conversation, so that I am left to analyse their conversation in the hopes that there will be something useful.

Nothing springs to mind-- at first. Then, in a wave of logic, Chronus' words, "Couldn't ignore a summons from family, could I?" reappear, and posing a difficult theme.

Hadrian had requested that Chronus came. 

That means Hadrian had wanted his brother to come here and find him. For what end? To escape? 

A painful truth lodges in my throat. 

'Traitor,' I whisper.

I don't expect him to hear me, but I swear I see him twitch.