***
Zander knew a dead end when he saw one. Hell, he was a living dead end, wasn’t he? And hadn’t he told Theron a thousand times the same damn thing Theron had just told him—that he was fine, and to leave his ass alone?
Yeah, he had. But this wasn’t about Zander. It wasn’t even about Theron, not really. It was about the Argonauts. And the Chosen Ones. And the future of every person in their race.
“What’s Phineus doing outside Isadora’s room?” Theron asked, glancing toward Isadora’s suite as they passed, trying—unsuccessfully—to change the subject. Again.
“The king ordered she be guarded,” Zander said, judging Theron’s reaction as they moved toward the king’s suite. Theron hadn’t said much since they’d left his house. And his silence and the memory of the way he’d called the Chosen One meli kept swirling in Zander’s head.
He seriously hoped this wasn’t what he thought this was. Theron was all business all the time. He wasn’t prone to human emotions. And he’d never fall for a female he shouldn’t fall for. Not like Zander.
When his kinsman only harrumphed and focused on the stairs ahead as they climbed toward the fourth floor, every step visibly tightening his shoulders and making his jaw tick like a time bomb about to go off, Zander knew his suspicions were correct. He cursed under his breath.
The leader of the Argonauts had fallen for the female. For the Chosen One to boot. Of all the stupid, meaningless moves… Hadn’t he learned a thing from Zander’s mistakes?
Zander’s frustration grew as their boots clunked across the marble landing outside the king’s chambers. But it ground to a halt when Theron opened the outer door and Callia stepped from the king’s bedroom suite. Just that fast, Zander’s chest ignited as if he’d taken a searing blade into the depths of his flesh.
This was why he hated coming to the fucking castle.
A servant jumped from where she’d been sitting behind a desk and bowed. “The king is expecting you, guardians.”
Callia’s gaze darted up, skipped over Theron to Zander, then quickly darted away as if she couldn’t bear to look at him. And why the hell that pissed Zander off was as foreign as the rush of pain he thought he’d let go of long ago.
He was immortal, dammit. A fierce fighter who wasn’t afraid of anything. And yet five minutes in this castle and he wanted to run away screaming like a little gynaíka.
His mood slid to black. Oh, lucky him. He had all of eternity to get over this one.
At Zander’s side, Theron’s eyebrows drew together and he glanced between them, obviously sensing…something. But like Theron earlier, Zander did not want to get into it. No way, no how. He shook his head and muttered, “Don’t ask.”
Theron didn’t. He glanced back at Callia instead. “How is he?”
Callia’s gaze snapped Theron’s way, and she lifted her chin. “He’s resting. Not too long. I don’t want him anymore agitated than he already is.”
Theron nodded once. “We won’t be long.”
Callia cast a quick look Zander’s direction, then headed down the long stone corridor without another word, just as she always did when their paths crossed, her shoes clicking softly in her wake.
That anger hovered on the edge, pushed at Zander from all sides and tempted him to take the bait. He didn’t want to give in to it, but when Theron made a move to open the king’s door, Zander saw himself and every one of his wrong turns. He moved without thinking and stopped Theron with a hand on his arm. “Hold up. Before you go in there.” This isn’t your problem. “What in Hades is going on with the half-breed?”
Theron’s jaw clenched. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Zander dropped his arm but he didn’t back down from Theron’s defensive posture. So much for it not being his problem. Deep inside he’d be damned if he let one of his kin go through even an ounce of what he had. “It didn’t look like nothing from where Cerek and I were standing.”
Theron’s jaw twitched again. “It’s none of your business. It’s between me and the king. Let it go, Argonaut.”
“Not my business?” Zander stepped between Theron and the king’s door before the leader of the Argonauts could dismiss him. The flash in Theron’s eyes warned him he wasn’t in the mood to be toyed with. Well, fuck it. Zander wasn’t in a mood to dick around either. Not after the last few minutes. “The hell it’s not. Theron, this concerns all of us. And our futures.”
Theron pursed his lips and took a step back. At his silence, Zander pressed on. “What the hell are you doing, man? She’s a half-breed.”
“I know.”
“And the Chosen.”
Theron dropped his head and rubbed a hand over his brow. “I know.”
Pity crept into Zander’s chest. Pity for his kinsman, who was obviously totally conflicted right now. But Theron needed to know his superhuman strength wasn’t going to save him this time. He was about to hit rock bottom. Over a female. And Zander knew all too well just how bad that fucking hurt. “You gotta let her go, Theron. This isn’t going to end well and you know it. You’re just prolonging the inevitable and making it worse.”
Theron’s head snapped up, and fire rekindled in his eyes. “Who am I making it worse for, Guardian? For the king? He’s dying. In a few weeks he won’t give a shit about any of us. For Isadora? No one even knows what’s going to happen to her. For our race?” He scoffed. “Most in our kingdom don’t even understand what the hell we do for them. The Council’s made sure of that. Why should I give a rip about them?”
Theron’s uncharacteristic reactions set off warning bells in Zander’s head. “Because it’s your duty.”
“My duty’s changed.”
“Theron—”
“No,” Theron reached for the door. “I’m sick of sitting back while he plays god. You don’t have a clue what he’s done, Zander. Not a fucking clue.”
Theron pushed by Zander and thrust the king’s door open. Immediately the scent of healing herbs and the odor of sickness permeated the air. Reluctantly, Zander followed, though what he wanted to do more was pound some sense into Theron before the guardian made the biggest mistake of his life.
The heavy velvet curtains were pulled closed, emitting only a line of light around the edges of the fabric that did nothing to lighten the room. Sheets rustled on the bed. “Who’s there?” a weak voice asked.
It took Zander moments to find any familiar features in the frail ándras propped up in a mountain of pillows. The king’s cheeks were hollow, his eyes sunken. The skin seemed to hang off his bones and his hair was now snow-white. He looked as if he’d aged fifty years in the last few days alone.
“Speak up,” the king barked. “Who’s there? I may not be able to see anymore, but I know I’m not alone.”
“You sent for me,” Theron said in a dry voice. “I came.”
The king’s face softened. “Theron. There you are, my boy. I was beginning to worry.”
Theron’s jaw tightened.
“Tell me,” the king said with excitement brewing in his voice. “Did you find her?”
Theron glanced at Zander, and in his eyes Zander didn’t miss the warning: Don’t fucking say a word.
Shit. Zander stiffened, knowing a train wreck when he saw one. This was about to go from bad to worse, and there was virtually nothing he could do to stop it.
“I found her,” Theron said simply, refocusing on the king.
The king breathed out a long sigh of relief. “Thank Hera. You brought her with you? Where is she? We need to unite her with Isadora. My daughter isn’t well.”
“They’re both your daughters,” Theron snapped.
The king went still. Zander took a step farther into the room, adrenaline pumping.
The look Theron sent Zander could have boiled blood, but Zander ignored it. Right now he just wanted to make sure Theron didn’t pummel the king. And holy shit, wasn’t that ironic? He was the Argonaut who normally had to be talked down from a rage, not the other way around.
r /> Theron transferred his glare to the king. “Aren’t you curious about her at all?”
The king stayed silent and unmoving. And his total lack of emotion ignited a fury in Theron that Zander had never seen before.
The Argonaut’s coal black eyes grew so wide they seemed to consume his face. His hands clenched into fists at his sides and every muscle in his body bunched for battle. “Well, let me tell you. Her hair is dark, her eyes are violet, just like yours. She’s tall and slim. Athletic. The opposite of Isadora. Built more like you. She runs her own business. Has traveled all over the world. She’s kind and gentle and smart enough to put me in my place. And there’s not much that scares her. When she was surrounded by daemons she kept her cool. Even had the strength to save my ass. More than once.”
“Enough,” the king said.
“She cares little about herself. Would give the shirt on her back to someone in need if she could. And she’s full of more humor and goodness and life than you or I will ever know.”
“That’s enough,” the king said between clenched teeth.
Shit. Shit. Had Zander thought Theron had fallen for the half-breed? The Argonaut hadn’t fallen. He’d dived in headfirst. Without—obviously—fucking thinking.
“Theron,” Zander cut in, trying to defuse the situation, even though he knew he was the last person in the universe who should. Cerek was the peacemaker, not him. “That’s it.”
Theron shot Zander a blistering look. “Fuck you, Zander.”
The rage Zander struggled against every day bubbled up to explosive levels. Curling his fingers into his palms, he breathed deep and reminded himself Theron was his kin. And that he was hurting. Zander could identify with that, even if all it did was remind him what an idiotic fool he’d been once.
“I said, enough,” the king repeated firmly.
“Yeah, you know what?” Theron mocked, swinging his gaze back to the king. “I don’t think so.” He took a step closer to the foot of the bed. “Do you have any idea how she reacted when she found out she was half Argolean? She pitched in and helped the Misos—a race she knew nothing about. A race you told me didn’t exist. An offshoot of ours that’s been on the front lines battling the daemons, while we sat back and did nothing. Nothing! Do you know how many there are out there? How many have died? Been maimed? What they’ve gone through because of you?”
The king didn’t answer, and Zander found himself staring at his kinsman, unable to believe that what he was hearing was true.
“Hundreds,” Theron said, eyes blazing. “In that colony alone. Thousands the world over.”
“Holy Hades,” Zander whispered.
“That is enough!” the king screamed.
The king was visibly shaken, and sweating from his old and wrinkled brow, but Theron didn’t back down. “If she knew why I brought her here, she’d probably sacrifice herself for you and your noble cause. Because that’s the selfless kind of person she is. But I won’t let her.”
For the first time, the king’s eyes lifted, and he squinted hard to see. “What did you say?”
“I said I won’t bring her within a mile of Isadora,” Theron said calmly. “Consider your prophecy null and void.”
Zander sucked in a breath.
The king’s face went ashen. “You do not know what you are saying. Isadora will die.”
Theron tipped his head. “And why does that concern you, Leo? Is it because you lose an heir to the throne in the deal or because she’s your daughter? Because as long as I’ve known you, you’ve cared for Isadora about as much as you care for the Misos. And we all know how much anyone outside these sacred walls matters to you.”
The king’s white face went beet red, and he struggled forward in bed. “You do not know of what you speak!”
“I speak the truth!”
In the silence that followed, Zander wasn’t sure what to do. Theron’s rage was so close to the surface, he was vibrating. And Zander didn’t put it past the Argonaut to cross the floor and hurl the old man against the wall. He understood that rage and need to annihilate. Hell, he lived with it daily. And he felt it now. From his friend. From himself. From the flickering image still lingering in his head of Callia brushing him off outside this very door and the unwanted emotions that action stirred inside.
“I’ve seen them,” Theron said, shaking his head. “I’ve seen what they’ve been through. And yet you did nothing. We did nothing! And now you want to set Atalanta free from Tartarus so you can truly start your precious war? Unleash the daemons? I won’t let you do that. I won’t let you kill one more person to make your twisted prophecy come true. Not even for Isadora. You can call on all the gods on Olympus to come to your aid, but know this now. I’ll never let you get near Acacia. I’ll die first.”
The king gasped. Theron turned for the door.
“Your father understood,” the king called at his back. “He had more honor in his right hand than you’ve got in your entire body.”
Theron’s fist hit the wall near the door so hard, it created a crater the size of a window. He pulled his arm from the rubble and glanced over his shoulder toward the king. “My father’s dead, you son of a bitch. And you can join him, for all I care.”
Theron stormed out of the room, leaving a seething tension in his wake. One that washed over Zander like a wave, pushing and pulling him in the current left behind. The bond he had with his forefather Achilles, with Theron, urged him to follow and say “Fuck you” to the world. But that part of him that struggled with what was right and what was expected of him rooted his feet in place.
“Argonaut,” the king rasped. “Are you still here?”
Yeah, he was still here. Just like always. Spending eternity fighting the same damn things he’d been fighting the last eight hundred years of his neverending life. “I’m here.”
“You’ve just been appointed leader of the Argonauts. Gather the rest of the guardians. I want that Chosen brought to Isadora now. And if Theron stands in your way, you have my permission to use whatever force necessary to remove him.”
Holy…fuck. Zander’s brow lifted in utter shock. That was not what he wanted. Not by a long shot. He was a fighter. Not a leader. Not ever.
“I think—”
“Go. Now,” the king snapped. “If you can’t follow orders, I’ll find someone else who can.”
He was being dismissed? Like that? Not likely. It didn’t matter that the order came from the king. At that moment, Zander had a memory flash. Of another ándras. Dismissing him in much the same way. As if he were nothing.
That time it had been because of a female, too.
That rage pushed up against the barrier of his control. And Zander narrowed his eyes. “Theron’s stronger than all the Argonauts put together. And if what he just said is true, he’s got every reason to stand against you, Your Highness.”
At the king’s gasp, he turned for the door. “I won’t be your patsy. Not yours. Not anyone’s. Get yourself another guardian.”