Pherenike - Chapter 46

On that day, in the moment Pherenike vowed to keep him from taking her anywhere. Encompassing all the feelings, thoughts, and desires Deucalion had ever held for her. He probably came closest to murderous intent towards her.

Pherenike picked up a small, delicately-made spear, intended for a very young boy, from the corner of the carriage.

“Your Majesty!”

“Kybellaune, it’s dangerous. How can you touch the weapons.”

One of Pherenike’s guards who received the gaze of the guards’ commander, gently took the spear from her. It was a somewhat unexpected action. Everyone, including the public, knew that no one or nothing could harm Pherenike, just as they had once mocked her as a monster in the past.

However, very few knew that she could harm herself.

“Weapons are most dangerous in the queen’s hands. Remember that when you guard my wife.”

Actor had known this and had been particularly cautious since she became pregnant, including instructing his men accordingly.

“Give it here. It’s just a toy for a child who can’t harm anything,” Pherenike reached out to the guard, who visibly stiffened and handed back the spear.

Of course, he didn’t know what she had learned from Deucalion in her youth. Pherenike was already familiar with this spear. She had once held a wooden sword her father gave her and fought against this small spear.

The tip of the blade was dulled so that a young boy could not harm anything, and the markings beneath it were delicate. An engraved wolf’s head with an eagle from a distant land flying over it. The s***t was made of ash wood.

This was the only gift young Deucalion Paetusa had received from his father and was meant to be passed down to his son someday.

A few months ago, around the end of last spring, Pherenike had accidentally cut her hand on a broken pottery shard.

The edge had dug deep into her fingertip, bleeding more than expected for such a small wound. Actor, upon seeing this, looked shocked and stared at her bleeding hand for a while. The queen’s handmaids frantically cleaned Pherenike’s blood, applied herbs to stop the bleeding, worried, and dispersed to their positions.

Pherenike was known to heal anything in the world, and even if she didn’t, she was still known as such. However, from the lowest-ranking priests and shamans to the highest priests and Sybylles, no one could heal their own illnesses and pains.

Exceptions always existed, and Pherenike was once such an exception. Even during those glorious times, if she attempted to heal herself, it was accompanied by a struggle akin to a suffering.

The effort she put into healing herself was disproportionately great compared to the minor satisfaction it brought. Pherenike disliked such tasks. Though she would willingly endure the self-harm-like feeling when necessary.

She also wasn’t fond of others’ Althea entering her body and interfering, even if that interference was meant to prevent her pain. She was born clothed in light, like armor. In reality, she rarely got seriously injured, and most injuries were minor cuts and bruises due to her own mistakes.

Yet, whenever there was a risk of scarring on her body as a young girl, Axiothea would become excessively worried and call for the priests. Pherenike grew up barely warding off her overprotectiveness.

When it came to her own body, she always preferred to simply wait for natural healing. Unlike her approach to Deucalion or Axiothea’s injuries, she was content with scars left on her own body. Not some evidence of improper healing, but rather marks of recovery that she managed on her own.

Actor came to his senses belatedly and called for a priest from the court, which no one had summoned yet. He couldn’t understand why Pherenike’s handmaids didn’t take the most obvious action.

Once the shock wore off, he became coldly angry, repeatedly saying that Pherenike was too lenient with her servants. But the reason the handmaids didn’t call the priest was that she had often made their efforts futile.

There was a brief argument about it. Pherenike explained a few times and then did not respond further. Actor accepted it without fully understanding.

In fact, for years, most of their conversations ended in this way. They mostly failed to convince each other but moved on.

However, Actor returned with another doubt.

His wife was susceptible to cuts from pottery shards, bleeding, and injuries, just like any other human. Contrary to the belief that nothing sharp could harm the Kybellaune, in reality, they could.

“I don’t understand. I’ve seen the protective light around you many times before.”

“Anything that passes through my hands can become possible, whether it’s intentional or accidental.”

“…Ah.”

“Kybellar only protects me from external attacks or the malice of others.”

The goddess was loving and knew affection. And affection, by nature, was not equal.