His smile widened, and his hand slid around her nape and up into her hair, dragging her toward his dark, dangerous heat. She didn’t stiffen, didn’t react, didn’t flinch, because doing so would make whatever he had planned much, much worse.
“No, agapi. Tomorrow I think those two will be deliciously incapacitated. We’ll find another. But tonight, my dear, sweet Cynna…” He brushed her hair over her shoulder and lowered his mouth to her neck, then bit down. Pain resonated from the spot, but she didn’t dare move. “Tonight I want you to recreate for me what you watched in that cell. And when I’m convinced you were thorough enough in your observation, then I’ll give you what our nymphs are getting now.”
As if on cue, a scream ripped through the cavern.
Cynna’s eyelids dropped, and inside, though revulsion churned and pushed up her chest, she repeated the words that had gotten her through this and so much more.
Disassociate. Disappear. Cease to exist.
With him, she wasn’t a person, she was a thing. But she could endure being a thing for now, because the promise of revenge was worth this one small price.
Soon, very soon, this would be a memory, and the one who’d destroyed her life would pay.
Or so that was what she whispered to herself in the quiet of the night to hold back the dark part of her soul. The part she feared would soon consume her.
“Did you see their faces?” Orpheus chuckled as he and the queen of Argolea walked through the main doors of the castle and into the elaborate foyer. “Man, I really wish I’d had a camera. I thought Lord Timaeus’s jaw was going to hit the floor.”
“Mine nearly did when you had those servants sweep in with champagne to celebrate your induction,” Isadora mumbled, crossing the great Alpha seal in the glossy marble floor. “There is something called tradition you need to be aware of, Orpheus.”
“Tradition’s overrated.” He grinned as they headed up the curved staircase. “Man, this is gonna be fun.”
Isadora wasn’t so sure. Lord Lucian had stayed on with the Council of Elders—the governing body that advised the monarchy—as long as he could, but his health was rapidly deteriorating after five hundred years, and the Council was finally forced to find a replacement for his seat. Tradition held that the most senior male member of each founding family be instilled, but the Council clearly wasn’t thrilled with their two choices: Orpheus, the troublemaking eldest nephew of Lord Lucian, or his younger Argonaut brother, Gryphon. While an Argonaut had never sat on the Council, Gryphon had been considered the lesser of two evils until his captivity in the Underworld forever changed him. The Council was now hesitant to seat Gryphon, not just because they were unsure of his mental stability these days, but because they suspected his governing decisions would be influenced by his relationship with his mate, Maelea, the daughter of Zeus and Persephone.
That left Orpheus, the black sheep of the family, half-witch, half-Argolean, and a major thorn in the Council’s side. Orpheus never did anything anyone expected, Isadora included. The Council’s choice was either to seat him, or overhaul the entire governing process, which they were hesitant to do because tradition—to them—was the most sacred of rituals. But Isadora was still nervous about the entire situation. Yes, Orpheus had come through for her several times, and yes, he was now serving with the Argonauts, but he was still unpredictable. He didn’t care what anyone thought, he often went against protocol, and he loved to antagonize the Council, something she feared was going to come back and bite her in the ass.
“Just remember you’re not simply representing your family,” she said to him as they rounded the banister at the second landing. “You’re representing the Argonauts as well. Whether the Council will admit it or not, seating an Argonaut is a historic event.”
He tugged on her sleeve, drawing her to a stop. “Hold on. You don’t think I can handle this, do you, Isa?”
Isadora looked up at his irritated gray eyes. Not Your Highness, not My Queen, simply Isa. He’d called her that for years, and while she didn’t have a problem with it in private, in public it just went one step further in showing his lack of respect for their way of life. “I think your disdain for the Council comes through loud and clear.”
“They deserve nothing but disdain. And you’re the first who should recognize that. They tried to execute your mate, or have you forgotten?”
Nausea rolled through her belly when she remembered Demetrius strung up in the council chamber, but she pushed it aside. “No, I haven’t forgotten, nor will I ever. But tradition has fueled this country for thousands of years. It can’t be changed on a dime. What I’m trying to do is instill change within the parameters our people are used to. If I move too quickly, the Council will rally the people and rise up against me. We’re a hairbreadth away from a coup, Orpheus, especially with the Misos here. What I need you to do is pick your battles and not antagonize the lords just for the fun of it.”
“No one wants the Misos taken care of more than me.”
Isadora knew that too. After Orpheus’s brother, Gryphon, had returned from the Underworld, the Misos—or half-breeds, as the Council liked to call them, half-Argoleans, half-humans—took him in when no one else would, even his own people. Though Orpheus himself wasn’t a half-breed, he felt a kinship with the people who’d helped his brother. And he'd been instrumental in assisting in their evacuation to Argolea after the Misos colony in the human realm had been attacked by Hades and his son, Zagreus. He hated the fact the Council was targeting the Misos as much as Isadora did.
“I may prove you wrong, you know,” he said, resuming his steps. “I have been known to do that a time or two.”
He had, he was right, and Isadora knew she was worrying about something that might never happen, but then that was her job as queen. To worry about everyone—him, the Council, the Argonauts, Nick…
A space inside her chest squeezed tight when she thought of Nick, and a profound sense of loss swept through her. He’d sacrificed himself to save her life when Hades had come to claim her soul, and she’d never had a chance to thank him, never had a chance to tell him she was sorry for the way they’d argued just before Hades’s arrival. She loved Demetrius, had no desire to be with anyone else, but she understood Nick’s pull to her. He’d been cursed by the gods more than any other, not simply because he’d been given a soul mate he couldn’t have, but because he’d been given the same one as his brother. And she’d chosen Demetrius.
She needed to find him. Needed to set at least some part of this nightmare right by rescuing him from Hades and Zagreus. It didn’t matter that he was Krónos’s son. All that mattered was finding him.
Voices sounded from the office ahead, and, straightening her spine, Isadora followed Orpheus toward the open door. She’d told Theron, the leader of the Argonauts, she would stop by after the Council proceedings to let him know how it had gone, but more than anything, she was anxious to hear if he had any news on Nick.
Titus was sitting behind Theron’s desk when she entered, his dark, wavy hair tied at his nape, his gloved hands paging through virtual screens. Theron stood behind him, his thick arms crossed over his chest, his expression grim as he studied whatever Titus was pointing out.
“It’s all doom and gloom around here,” Orpheus muttered as he stepped into the room. “Feels like the Council chambers.”
Both Argonauts looked their direction, and Theron’s dark brows lifted. “How did it go?”
“Obviously better than it’s going here,” Orpheus muttered, dropping onto an arm of a nearby sofa. “Where’s Gryph?”
“With Cerek and Demetrius,” Theron answered, “running down a lead in the human realm. They’re not back yet.”
Isadora caught the flash of worry in Orpheus’s eyes. He was always worried when Gryphon went anywhere without him.
She focused on Theron. “A good lead?”
“None of our leads are good at this point,” Titus huffed, shutting off the virtual screen.
Disap
pointment washed through Isadora, but she tried not to let it show.
“We’ll find him,” Theron said. “The guys are investigating a Nereid settlement off the coast of Florida. We know it’s a long shot, but Zagreus has a thing for nymphs. We’re hoping they might know something. Demetrius wanted to check this one out himself.”
Demetrius wanted to check out every lead himself. Though he and his twin had never been close, he felt as responsible for Nick’s imprisonment as Isadora did. Maybe more, because he believed he should have been the one to save her, not Nick.
Which was another reason Isadora needed to find Nick. So her mate could stop feeling guilty. Since Nick’s disappearance, Demetrius had become more and more withdrawn, spending every hour looking for his brother or stressing over something out of his control. Their relationship was taking a serious hit. As was the time he spent with their daughter.
“So,” Theron said, looking across the room toward Orpheus. “Is it official?”
“Yes,” Isadora sighed. She was tired. Tired of worrying, tired of fighting the Council, but most of all, she just wanted her family together and in one piece. “You’re looking at the newest Council member.”
Orpheus’s shit-eating grin made her roll her eyes.
“Gods help us,” Titus muttered.
“The gods can’t help you this time,” Orpheus said, chuckling.
Footsteps echoed in the hall, and, seconds later, Skyla stepped into the room, followed by Theron’s mate, Casey.
“Well?” Skyla asked, looking toward Orpheus.
Orpheus held out his hand toward her. “Call me Lord Orpheus. The great and powerful.”
Skyla let her mate pull her to his side, but the look in her meadow-green eyes was hesitant as his arm wound around her waist. “Good gods. Is this what I have to put up with from now on?”
Orpheus’s grin widened. “Baby, you love it.” His brows lifted. “They’re gonna give me this really cool robe. I’m thinking commando’s the only way to go.”
Across the room, Titus sighed. “Told ya this was a bad idea.”
Casey rested a hand on her very round belly as she stood next to Theron and tipped her head. “It could have been worse. They could have made him Council leader. Then we’d all be in trouble.”
Everyone laughed except Isadora. She rubbed her fingers over the pulse between her eyes, finding no humor in the situation, especially because she’d just listened to the lords drone on and on about the “problem” in their realm.
She dropped her hand and looked toward Theron. “The Council denied my aid request for the Misos, which means we have a situation. They’re pushing for forced segregation, using the excuse that most of them have already moved outside the city. But the bottom line is they want to isolate the Misos in what’s left of the Kyrenia settlement permanently.”
“Of course they do,” Skyla said, resting her forearm on Orpheus’s shoulder and brushing her long blonde hair back from her face. “Because they’re different. Anyone who’s different is a threat to the Council’s way of life. In that respect, they’re just like the gods. And by that thinking, Maelea, Natasa, even I should be segregated with them.”
“You’re not going anywhere, Siren,” Orpheus said firmly, his teasing tone long gone.
“Only because I have the backing of the Argonauts,” Skyla answered her mate. “Those people don’t.”
Skyla felt as strongly about the Misos as Orpheus. They all did.
Isadora’s frustration jumped another notch, and she moved toward the arching windows that looked out over the sparkling view of the city. They needed to be focusing on locating the water element—the last of the four classical elements they required to complete the Orb of Krónos, the magic disk that had the power to control Krónos’s imprisonment in the Underworld. All the gods wanted the Orb that held the strength to start the war to end all wars, and the Argonauts had it—had it and were on the verge of being able to destroy it once and for all to protect not only their world, but all worlds. But their focus was now split between the Orb and Nick. And with the Council making threats against the Misos, that focus was waning even more.
“I have no problem with the Misos choosing to congregate together outside the city,” Isadora said, “but not by force.”
“What are you proposing?” Theron asked, eyeing her cautiously.
What was she proposing? Something that would draw her guardians away from their search for Nick and the remaining element. Something she hated to do but which she couldn’t see another way around.
She turned to face the room. “I think the Council’s going to move on the Misos once they have them segregated. They destroyed the Kyrenia settlement once before because the witches inhabited it, and they wanted to prevent them from rising to power. They forced what remained to the fringes of society. As Skyla said, they see any bit of difference as a threat.”
“Fuckers,” Orpheus muttered.
Theron ignored his interjection and focused on Isadora. “Have you seen something to indicate this?”
Her gift of foresight wasn’t always reliable, especially when it related directly to her. And this definitely did. But what she had seen… Her stomach rolled all over again. She wasn’t ready to share that with anyone, because she was hoping like hell it wouldn't come true.
“No.” That was the truth. What she’d seen had nothing to do with the Misos. “But I feel it.”
“I think she’s right,” Casey said, her soft brown hair swaying as she turned to look up at her mate. “I read about what the Council did to the Kyrenia settlement. A repeat of that would cut Isadora’s power at the knees and make her look weak to the inhabitants of Argolea.”
The burning of the Kyrenia settlement was a dark part of Argolea’s history. It hadn’t happened all that long ago, but Isadora remembered the stories about the suffering. Her father, the king, had granted the Council permission to eradicate what he deemed “a viable threat” from the witches, and though Isadora hadn’t been strong enough to stand up to him or the Council then, she was determined there would never be a repeat.
“All life has value here,” she said, “regardless of race, gender, or affiliation. And I’m not about to let Nick’s legacy be destroyed. Protecting his people is the least we can do after everything he’s done for us.”
Casey smiled at her sister, but Isadora didn’t have the strength to smile back. If the Council had their way, Casey would be segregated right along with the Misos. She was a true half–breed, but because she was the king’s illegitimate daughter and the mate now to the leader of the Argonauts, they turned a blind eye to her.
“You’re talking about pulling the monarchy’s private guards and stationing them at the Misos settlement,” Theron said.
“And Argonauts.”
“And Argonauts,” he muttered, clearly not approving of this plan. “That will leave the castle vulnerable.”
It would. But Isadora couldn’t see another way around it. “We tried keeping the Misos within the castle walls, but that didn’t work. I don’t blame them for wanting to get away from this place. Any kind of segregation is a prison, no matter how elaborate the facility may be. But if the Council gets their way and forces segregation, things are going to escalate quickly.”
When the leader of the Argonauts clenched his jaw, Isadora sighed. “The job of the Argonauts was never to protect the monarchy or this castle, Theron. The Argonauts were established to protect the human realm, and the Misos are part of that. You know I’m right.”
Theron didn’t answer, but a vein ticked in his temple. One that told her he wasn’t happy.
“Demetrius will never go along with this,” Casey warned.
“This isn’t Demetrius’s call,” Isadora said, looking at her sister. “It’s mine.” Demetrius was where he needed to be right now—looking for Nick—and it was time she did what she needed to do—take care of Nick’s people.
She focused on Theron once more. “Tomorrow, I want you to take how
ever many soldiers and Argonauts you need and secure the Misos. The rest of the Argonauts I want split into two groups. One looking for the remaining water element, and the other helping Demetrius search for Nick.”
“My queen—” Theron started.
“That’s my decision,” she said firmly.
Shuffling sounded by the door before he could argue with her, and Isadora looked that direction. Max, her eleven-year-old nephew, stepped into the room carrying a smiling Elysia. Behind him, his mother and Isadora’s other sister, Callia, followed.
The baby cooed, and Isadora’s mood jumped at the sight of her happy daughter. Elysia was only six months old, but she was growing fast, and she looked huge in Max’s arms.
The baby wrapped her chubby little fingers around a fistful of Max’s shaggy blond hair, then pulled. The two had a special relationship. If Max was anywhere close, Elysia wanted to be near him.
“Ouch,” Max said. “She’s definitely got Argonaut genes. She’s getting stronger every day.”
Callia grinned behind him. “Babies tend to do that.”
Orpheus let go of Skyla and pushed from the couch before Isadora could reach for her daughter. “Gimme that kid.”
He swept Elysia up in his arms and moved over to the windows, bouncing the infant and talking to her in a singsongy sweet voice that sounded nothing like the smart-ass half witch who loved to antagonize the Council.
“Titus,” Callia said, “Natasa’s looking for you. I passed her in the library.”
Titus’s hazel eyes lit, and he quickly pushed away from Theron’s desk. “That means my job here is done.”
As he rushed out the door in search of his new mate, Skyla dropped onto the couch with a scowl. “Someone take that baby away from the lord of shits and giggles over there.”
Orpheus turned from the window and shot her a wicked hot look. “Scared, Siren?”
Skyla arched a brow his way. “Of a baby? No. Of you and your not-so-bright ideas? Absolutely. You’re not getting one, Daemon, so stop looking at me like that.”
Orpheus grinned and refocused on Elysia in his arms. “Don’t worry, my beautiful Lys. We’ll talk some sense into her.”