21. Athena

21

ATHENA

T he dust motes dance in the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the study windows as I run the cloth over the polished wood shelves. The scent of leather-bound books and citrus mingles with the metallic tang that always clings to Uriel. He is in the workshop with a supplier, which is why I've been sent back here to clean.

He doesn't like me around other xaphan, though I do not know why.

"The price is too high for subpar quality." His voice carries that edge of authority that makes most people flinch. "I won't accept anything less than pure shadowsteel."

I keep my movements quiet, methodical. The shelf before me holds an impressive collection of weapon designs, each sketch more intricate than the last. My fingers itch to examine them closer, but I don't take them. I'm not sure where I stand with Uriel right now, and it's left me on edge.

I know he's attracted to me, but I never thought a xaphan would hold back. I don't get it, and it's left me thinking about him too much.

"Send me a proper sample first." Uriel's voice is filled with annoyance, though they sound far enough away that I risk crossing the hall into the other study. "I won't waste-"

He stops mid-sentence, and I feel the weight of his golden eyes on my back. I guess I misjudged that, not through the threshold yet.

"Who's that?" The supplier's voice is far too close, but I don't turn to look at him. I keep going into the other room. "Didn't know you kept company."

My cheeks burn as I start dusting, trying to make sure I'm out of sight. The silence stretches for a heartbeat too long.

"Just some human worker." Uriel's voice drops several degrees. "Nothing more than that."

The words hit like a slap. My hands freeze on the shelf, the cloth suddenly heavy in my grip. Of course. Now everything makes so much more sense.

What else would I be to someone like him? Just another human - practically a stray animal in his eyes.

"Ah," the supplier chuckles. "Keeping the place tidy, is she?"

"Let's focus on business." Uriel's tone cuts through any further discussion about me. "The shadowsteel. When can you deliver a proper sample?"

I force myself to keep cleaning, even as my throat tightens. Each movement feels mechanical now. I'd been feeling more and more comfortable here, happy even, but now that feels shattered by those casual, cutting words.

The worst part is how much they shouldn't hurt - I'm well aware of how most xaphan view humans. But somehow, coming from him...

I wait for the sound of the door shutting to come out. The workshop is empty and I take the opportunity to slip back into his mansion. The afternoon light filters through the tall windows, casting long shadows that seem to mock my retreat. My chest feels hollow, like someone's scooped out everything warm and soft inside.

In my room, I sink onto the window seat, drawing my knees to my chest. The plush cushions that once felt luxurious now feel like they're trying to swallow me whole. Outside, a flock of starwings wheels across the sky, their iridescent feathers catching the light - free, unburdened, unlike me.

" Just some human worker. " His words echo in my head, each syllable carving deeper wounds.

My fingers trace the intricate embroidery on my sleeve - clothes he provided, probably just to keep up appearances. Everything feels tainted now. The healing supplies I'd organized in his workshop this morning, the meals I'd shared at his table, the way he'd brush his wing against my shoulder when passing by... was it all just a master tolerating a useful pet?

I had told myself so many times that he was cruel, that I shouldn't get attached. I swore that I could give into the attraction without my heart getting involved.

Clearly, I was wrong.

A sob catches in my throat, but I refuse to let it escape. Astrid would laugh at me for being so naive. She always said I was too soft, too quick to see good in others. But I thought... I really thought I'd found somewhere I belonged. Someone who saw past what I was born as.

The room grows darker as the sun sinks lower, but I can't bring myself to light the crystal lamps. Their warm glow would feel too much like comfort I don't deserve. My golden-green eyes reflect in the window glass, and for the first time, I hate how human they look. How they mark me as lesser in this world of perfect, powerful beings.

"Nothing more than that," I whisper to my reflection, tasting the bitterness of truth. The honey-blonde ringlets I'd carefully styled this morning now hang limp around my face, as deflated as my spirit.

Is this how all of them see me? Raven and Koros - do they just tolerate my presence because he does?

My hands clench in my lap. The healer in me wants to find a way to mend this hurt, but some wounds cut too deep for bandages and poultices.

I hide out for a full day before I know I have to leave. I don't want anyone to come after me so I drag my feet across the training yard's packed dirt, my usual enthusiasm for these afternoon sessions completely drained. The wooden practice sword feels far too heavy in my hands. Even the gentle breeze carrying the scent of wild roses from the garden fails to lift my spirits.

"Your stance is all wrong." Raven's violet eyes narrow as she circles me, her midnight hair whipping in the wind. "You're practically begging someone to knock you over."

Koros looms nearby, his massive frame casting a shadow across the yard. One of his dark wings twitches as he watches me fumble through the basic forms.

"I've seen newborn lunoxes with better coordination," Raven quips, but her smile holds no malice. "What's eating at you?"

I attempt the defensive stance she taught me last week, but my movements lack their usual precision. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"And I'm the queen of New Solas." Raven exchanges a look with Koros. His mismatched eyes - one black as void, one molten gold - soften with concern.

"You're broadcasting misery like a beacon," Koros rumbles, his deep voice gentler than his intimidating appearance would suggest. He sets aside his practice blade and drops onto a nearby bench, the wood groaning under his weight. "Maybe we should take a break."

Raven sits down on the grass next to him, grinning up at Koros. "Let me tell you what he did at the market the other day." She launches into a tale that I barely listen to, standing a distance away from them as they both grin and talk.

Usually, their banter would have me giggling, but today it just reminds me how out of place I am in their world. These powerful, immortal beings, spending their time with... what did Uriel call me? Just some human worker.

Sighing, Raven gets to her feet and has me run the defensive stances again.

"Here." Raven steps closer, adjusting my grip on the sword. "You're thinking too much. Let your body remember the movements."

But all I can think about is how her wings - soft dove gray in the afternoon light - mark her as belonging to this world in a way I never will.

Deciding to demonstrate the move instead, Raven lunges forward with her practice sword, but Koros dramatically throws himself backwards, his massive frame hitting the dirt with enough force to shake the ground. His wings flare out, stirring up clouds of dust as he clutches his chest.

"Oh, the agony!" He rolls onto his side, his dark red hair now streaked with dirt. "Defeated by such a tiny opponent!"

His mismatched eyes catch mine, and for a moment, a flicker of warmth cuts through my melancholy. But then doubt creeps in - is this how they really see me? Some amusing little human to be coddled and entertained?

"Get up, you great lump," Raven prods him with her boot, her violet eyes dancing with mischief. "You're scaring the flowers."

"The flowers appreciate my theatrical talents." Koros remains sprawled in the dirt, his nearly-black wings spread like a fallen angel's.

My grip tightens on the practice sword. Once, their playful banter would have lifted my spirits. Now each joke feels like it might have a hidden barb, a reminder of what I am - and what I'm not.

Raven's smile fades as she studies my face. Her dove-gray wings shift restlessly, a tell I've learned means she's worried. She exchanges a glance with Koros, who finally pushes himself up, leaving a Koros-shaped impression in the dirt.

"Athena," he rumbles, brushing off his clothes. "Whatever's weighing on you-"

"I should go." The words come out sharper than intended. "I have... duties to attend to. Worker things."

Koros winces at my tone, his scarred face creasing with concern. Even that hurts - their pity feels like another reminder of my place here.

"Athena-" Raven starts, but I'm already backing away, my practice sword forgotten in the dirt.

Their worried looks follow me across the training yard, but I can't bear their kindness right now. Not when every interaction feels tainted by doubt, every friendship questioned through the lens of Uriel's dismissive words.