Entwined

  She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, she almost didn’t see Isadora until it was too late. The princess rounded the newel post on the second floor, heading up. Callia stopped mere inches from running the gynaíka over. Then did a double take.

  “Isadora. My gods. What happened to you?”

  Isadora reached up warily and rubbed a hand down the back of her pixie-short hair. Her once-long blonde locks now flared out all over her head in a messy but flattering way. The cut made her eyes look bigger, her face more prominent. It drew attention to her high cheekbones and a mole on the left side of her mouth Callia had never really noticed before.

  But the hair wasn’t the only change. The princess was not wearing her traditional attire. Instead of a long gown, tonight she was decked out in sleek black pants, a fitted red sweater and sandals that showed off red—bloodred—painted toenails.

  Her father was going to shit bricks when he saw her.

  “Nothing happened to me,” Isadora said, stiffening her spine. “I’m fine.”

  Realizing how admonishing she must sound, Callia gave her head a shake. “I—I didn’t mean it like that. I think you look wonderful, it’s just—”

  “Callia!”

  Callia and Isadora both peered over the edge of the banister to the lower level below, where Titus was shouting and running across the marble floor at a dead sprint.

  He took the stairs four at a time until he was in front of both of them. His rugged face and Argonaut clothing were smeared with blood and dirt and something…green. Locks of long wispy brown curls had pulled free from the leather strap at his nape to brush across his cheeks, and he was breathing like he’d just run a marathon. “I need you to come with me. Right now.”

  “What happened?” He’d obviously been fighting. Where and with whom, though, she didn’t know.

  “There’s been an accident.”

  “Who?” Callia and Isadora asked together.

  Titus seemed to suddenly realize they weren’t alone. His gaze swung to Isadora, but if he noticed a change in her appearance, he didn’t show it. “Zander. It’s bad.”

  For a soul-searing second, time stopped for Callia. Her chest squeezed tight until it was hard to get air. She’d just seen him. She’d just had her hands on him. He’d been alive and well and whole earlier today, just like every day. He was invincible. Immortal. Nothing could hurt him.

  “Is he going to be okay?” Isadora said next to her. “Who’s with him now? Titus, how bad is bad?”

  But Titus’s attention wasn’t focused on the princess. When Callia finally pulled it together and looked up, she realized he was staring at her with an all-knowing and pitying expression.

  “Skata,” he whispered. “I didn’t know you were the one.”

  Callia drew in a breath. Froze. Then whispered, “What are you talking about?” though she had a good feeling she already knew. Too late she remembered that Titus could read minds.

  He shook his head slowly. “I knew it was a female who’d hurt him. I just didn’t put two and two together. He was careful never to think about you in my presence.”

  Silence settled like a heavy weight in the air around them. At her side, Callia could feel Isadora’s eyes boring into her with a million questions. Her heart pounded in her chest, so loud she was sure the other two could hear it.

  Hurt him? Hurt him? He’d been the one to walk away from her and their…She swallowed hard, unable to even think the word. Her heart beat faster as she tried to keep herself calm.

  “I don’t understand what’s going on here,” Isadora said.

  Titus ignored her. “You have to come with me, Callia. Now.”

  “I—I can’t go anywhere.” Callia did not want to relive the pain of those memories. “I’m supposed to be at Loukas’s in…” She glanced at her watch, seeking something familiar. Normal. Predictable. “…ten minutes.”

  “Fuck Loukas!” Titus took a step closer, and Callia’s eyes grew wide. “Zander is going to die. I can’t save him. If you won’t do it for him, then do it for the king.”

  “I…” Her head was in a fog. She was having trouble focusing. “He can’t die. He’s immortal.”

  “No, he’s not,” Titus said quickly. “He just thinks he is. Please.” He reached toward her, but stopped short of touching her, instead curling his fingers into a fist before they made contact. “Please.” The pleading in his voice cut through her shock-infested haze. “He needs you.”

  He never needed you. Not really.

  Her father’s words from earlier in the day echoed through her mind. And for reasons she couldn’t explain, she had a burning urge to prove him wrong. Even if in such a minis-cule way.

  She stared into sea green eyes flecked with shades of golds and browns. Eyes that saw way more than she ever wanted them to see. “Where?” she whispered.

  “The human realm.”

  Slowly, Callia nodded even as a frisson of fear whipped through her. “I’ll need supplies.”

  “We’ll run by your clinic before we go back.”

  “I’m coming too,” Isadora said quickly.

  “No,” Titus stated firmly, his eyes swinging toward the princess. “It’s too dangerous for you. Callia and I will handle it.” He focused on Callia once more, effectively eliminating Isadora from the conversation. “Thank you. I promise this will be over quickly.”

  Callia’s stomach knotted. For her, where Zander was concerned, it would never be over.

  Zander tried to open his eyes, but there was something sticky keeping them glued together. Something cold and goopy and…wet?

  He was lying on his side—that much he knew for sure—but when he tried to roll to his back he couldn’t make his body obey.

  Where the hell was he?

  He tried again with the eye thing and managed to break the seal. Through hazy, murky vision he saw the tips of his eyelashes, covered in—yep—some kind of sludge. The ground beneath him was cold and hard, but he wasn’t out in the elements. He was inside something—a building, a barn, a cave?

  A cave. Yeah. That had to be it. His head was in a fog, but he knew he’d been fighting. That explained the goopy shit in his eyes. Daemon slime was hard to get rid of. He’d obviously been injured, but he couldn’t get his brain to click into gear on how or where or when that had happened. Why wasn’t his brain working?

  He closed his eyes tight, tried to clear the haze. Faintly—and with great effort that sent pain thrumming through his skull—he remembered the fight with the daemons. The cliff. Demetrius and Titus. The frightened females and all those screaming young. And he remembered falling…

  “I can’t. Oh, gods, Titus, did you see? I’m not strong enough for this.”

  Whoa. Wait. He knew that voice.

  Callia. Here in this cold place. Where she never in a million years should be.

  His eyes popped open again as far as the goop would allow and he let go of his surroundings to focus on the voice.

  “You have to.” Titus’s voice now. Firm and harsh and as focused as Zander had ever heard the guardian. “I can’t do it. You’re the only one who can.”

  Can what?

  “What if I’m not strong enough?” she whispered. “Titus, what if…”

  What were they talking about? Again Zander tried to roll to his back, but still he couldn’t move. Growing more frustrated by the minute, he settled for shifting his head on the rocks, then regretted it when pain stabbed at his skull.

  He was sure he screamed like a little girl, but Titus and Callia didn’t stop their bickering and no one seemed to care that he was in agonizing pain.

  “It can’t get any worse than this, Callia. You have to do it.”

  Zander moved his head again, enough so he could finally see the two of them where they stood a good distance away. Though his vision was murky, he saw he’d been right. He was in some kind of cavern. A lantern in the center of the room cast shadows over their bodies and illuminated the rock walls and stalactites hanging from the c
eiling.

  Callia lifted her hands to her cheeks. “One bullet is imbedded in his spinal cord. Titus, do you know what that means? If I try to dislodge it, I could make it worse. He won’t just be paralyzed from the waist down, he’ll be paralyzed everywhere. It could cut off his breathing. The consequences could be much worse—”

  Paralyzed? Whoa. Wait a minute…Zander tried to move his legs again, only nothing happened.

  “You don’t have any other options!” Titus barked.

  Okay, this didn’t sound so good.

  Callia glanced around the barren room. “I could go back. We could get someone else. Someone stronger. I’ve heard of witches in the Aegis Mountains who—”

  “There’s no time for that.”

  “Then we’ll make time! Zander is—”

  “Not gonna last that long!” Before Callia could protest once more, Titus slapped his hands on her shoulders to hold her still. His eyes widened, his body stiffened and something like agony flashed across his rugged face just before he swayed.

  “Titus! Oh, gods, not you too.” Callia clutched his forearms. “Are you okay? Titus, talk to me. What’s happening?”

  Titus staggered but caught himself. His head seemed to loll on his shoulders. Somehow, Callia kept the massive Argonaut from going down. Seconds ticked by before he lifted his head and peered down at her.

  Zander squinted, tried to move again to get a better view at what was happening, but he was pinned, frozen…paralyzed?

  Shit, that couldn’t be right. He was an Argonaut. Argonauts couldn’t be paralyzed. And he was immortal.

  Callia gasped, drawing Zander’s focus back to her.

  Titus’s grip tightened on Callia’s shoulder and as Zander watched, some sort of connection flared between the two. They stood locked in each other’s gaze, neither moving, neither speaking, neither trying to break free.

  And an emotion Zander hadn’t felt in far longer than he could remember flared hot in the center of his chest, pushing out all that panic and replacing it with something much, much darker.

  Get your hands off her, you motherfucker. She’s mine.

  Long moments passed. Electricity crackled in the air. Finally, Titus sagged. His eyes rolled back in his head and his grip loosed on Callia’s arms. He slumped to the floor on his knees at her feet.

  “Titus?” She reached for him. “Please don’t fall apart on me.”

  He shook his head slowly back and forth. “I’m…I’m okay. I’m not…hurt.” But he didn’t sound okay. He sounded totally rattled.

  And no one was supposed to be rattled around Callia but Zander.

  That rage wedged itself tighter in Zander’s chest. Rage and an instinctive need to annihilate that seemed to come from somewhere outside himself. Right now you’re okay, you SOB, but just wait until I can move my legs again.

  “What happened?” Callia asked.

  When she tried to touch him, Titus blocked her with his forearm. And the way Callia flinched like he’d hurt her sent Zander’s already amped-up adrenaline shooting into the out-of-this-world range. He tried to move again. Failed.

  Zander ground his teeth together and glared at Titus. Try that over here, dickhead.

  Neither paid him any attention. Why couldn’t they fucking hear him?

  “You have to tell him,” Titus muttered.

  “How…how can you know?” she whispered.

  “Because I experienced it. Through you. And I guarantee he doesn’t know half what you went through.”

  Callia’s face paled.

  They were whispering now, and it was hard for Zander to hear, but he almost thought he heard Titus say, “And once he does know, if he’s still an asshole, then I’ll kick his butt into the next realm myself.”

  Zander’s temper flashed. I’d like to see you try it, dipshit.

  Titus reached out, hesitated, then laid his hand on Callia’s cheek and whispered something Zander couldn’t hear but which brought tears to Callia’s soft violet eyes. Then he added louder, “It’s gone on too long, Callia. You have to put him out of his misery. But know this. If you can’t do it, I will.”

  And that was as much as Zander could take.

  He shifted, rolled, screamed every vile word he knew at Titus. And that was saying a lot, considering who he hung out with. But he didn’t hear the words. All he heard was a loud keening sound echoing through the room around him. And not until both of their heads jerked his way did he realize the sound had come from him.

  “He’s coming around,” Titus said.

  They were both at his side in an instant. And lucky for him, that was just about the time Zander figured out how to make his arm work. He swung out, hoping to nail Titus in the jaw, but even he knew the motion was stilted and weak. This was supposed to be his kinsman, but right now Titus looked more like the enemy than any daemon Zander had ever encountered.

  “Shh, don’t try to move too much, Zander.” Callia’s soft fingers closed over his arm and she easily replaced it against his side. “Titus, get me my bag. I’m going to need that syringe.”

  “About damn time,” Titus muttered. His footsteps sounded across the floor.

  Zander hoped the piece of shit wasn’t coming back. One good hit, that’s all he needed…

  He tried to breathe, in and out, and closed his eyes, focusing on Callia’s hands and the way she was freeing him from his clothing.

  Oh, man, this was not right, but it felt good. Sinful. Erotic. Like it had in the king’s study when she’d had her hands over his naked flesh for that little exam. He didn’t even care what was wrong with him anymore. He just wanted her to go on stroking him like she was doing now.

  He wasn’t paralyzed, dammit. He could feel her.

  She ran her hands up his bare chest and down again, around the shoulder he’d injured earlier and then down his right arm. Electricity shot through his skin. He groaned—from pleasure or pain, he wasn’t sure which—and reveled in her touch.

  This was all he ever wanted. Why couldn’t he have this for the rest of his life?

  “That’s it, Zander,” she whispered. “Just relax and don’t fight it.”

  “Here it is,” Titus mumbled somewhere close.

  Something sharp pricked his arm. His eyes flew open. His upper body tensed, then in a rush all of it—the pain and jealousy and rage—seemed to leak out of him through that one spot. He saw her face above him, calm, collected and comforting. Her heat encircled his body like a wreath. Her scent so strong, he inhaled it all the way to his soul. And he knew if she was really putting him out of his misery as Titus had suggested, then at least this was a pretty awesome last image to take with him to the other side.

  “Yes,” Callia whispered as darkness pushed in and he floated. “That’s it. Just let go.”

  He was powerless to do anything else. The cave grew dimmer until the picture of her faded. Until he could no longer hear her sweet voice. Until there was no sound at all. Not even his beating heart.

  Chapter Nine

  “Here’s your dinner, my lady.”

  Isadora looked up and smiled, though the grin wobbled just a touch as Saphira set a tray of food on the ottoman.

  “I had Cookie whip up your favorite. Roast lamb with potatoes.”

  Isadora closed the book in her lap and set it softly on the settee next to her in the sitting area of her suite. Outside, the sun was just setting to cast an orange glow over the Aegis Mountains. By some supreme force of self control she kept her hand from shaking. “Thank you, Saphira.” Then she did her best to lie. “Mm, it smells delicious. I’m starving.”

  Her handmaiden obviously wasn’t buying it. She cocked her head and pursed her lips in disapproval. “You look sickly. Perhaps you should eat and go right to bed.”

  Going right to bed most definitely wasn’t on Isadora’s to-do list tonight. And she wouldn’t call her new hair and clothes “sickly.”

  But instead of arguing, Isadora faked a yawn, covered her mouth with her hand and said, “
You may be right. My eyes are suddenly very tired.”

  Saphira’s dark gaze narrowed, but it didn’t waver from Isadora’s face. “Hm.”

  Not to be deterred, Isadora lifted her spoon, leaned over the tray and took a bite. “Mm. I was right. Delicious.”

  When the plate was half-empty, Saphira finally sighed. “I suppose I should let you finish your dinner in peace.”

  Finally. Isadora smiled.

  “Would you like me to turn the bed down?”

  “No need. I’m going to let my dinner settle and read a bit more before I turn in.”

  The answering harrumph told Isadora loud and clear the gynaíka didn’t approve of that either. “You’ll need all the rest you can get before the binding ceremony. The king will be most disappointed if you’re not one hundred percent.”

  Binding ceremony. Yeah. Right. Like she’d almost forgotten all about that.

  “Good night, Saphira.”

  “Good night, my lady.”

  Isadora waited until the outer door to her suite clicked closed, then flipped the book open to the page she’d kept hidden from Saphira’s probing eyes.

  . The Horae. Three goddesses of balance controlling life and order. They bring and bestow ripeness. They come and go in accordance with the firm law of the periodicities of nature and of life. They are, by essence, the correct moment.

  She ran the palm of her hand over the fabric of her new black slacks covering the marking on her inner thigh. She didn’t need to see it to know it was there. The image was emblazoned in her mind. The omega symbol with wings. By definition, omega marked “the end.” All other Argoleans carried the alpha marking, yet she and Casey were different. As the Chosen, theirs signified the prophecy regarding the end of Atalanta’s immortal reign. But the wings had always confused Isadora. Why wings? They weren’t random markings. They had to have a meaning.

  Damn, but she wished she’d regained her power of foresight already. Her half-sister, Casey, could see into the past of others, and she herself had always been able to glimpse shots of the future. But during her illness mere weeks ago, just before she and Casey had been united as the Chosen, she’d lost her powers, and they had yet to return, for reasons she didn’t understand. If she had them now, maybe she could get some idea what this all meant. And how and why she felt so unsettled now.