The room was dimly lit by a smoldering fire in the great stone hearth. At this hour—well after midnight—it was silent, the velvet couches and plush chairs that had been occupied earlier completely empty.
Swallowing hard, she rushed out the main doors, crossed the cobblestone courtyard, went up and over the bridge, then swept up the circular stone steps to the gatehouse on the wall walk above. She didn’t knock, just shoved the heavy wood door open with her shoulder as the sentries inside lurched to their feet.
“The prince is in trouble.” She gripped the door handle and leaned back against the old wood, struggling to breathe. “He was attacked by a pack of satyrs. I managed to get him into the dungeon corridor via the hidden tunnel behind the waterfall, but he’s badly injured. He needs a healer.”
Wide-eyed, several sentries rushed out the door and down the steps.
To the two that remained, looking equally as shell-shocked at what she’d announced, Talisa said, “The border magick is flickering. You need to get more guards up here as fast as possible to secure the castle. A couple of those satyrs got away. They’ll be back soon with reinforcements.”
“Yes, princess.”
The two spoke in rushed words as Talisa headed back down the steps.
The grand hall was already abuzz with activity by the time she made her way back inside. She spotted Nysa belting a robe around her waist on the far side of the room, rushing down the last few steps, worry and fear in her blue eyes. Beside her, a tall, dark-haired male Talisa had seen before was already dressed in a leather breastplate, a sword at his hip, his features alert and highly focused.
“Talisa?” Nysa met up with her in the middle of the room. “I’m so glad you’re all right. But…” Her gaze skipped over Talisa’s ripped dress and haggard appearance. “What happened to you?”
“I’m fine. It’s not me. There were satyrs. A pack of them.” The dark-haired male stood beside Nysa, listening closely. “Ana... She... She was working with them. She led me right to them.”
“Our Ana?” Nysa asked.
“Yes. No. I mean, she’s not who you think she is. She’s not a nymph. She was using glamour to hide her true appearance here behind the kingdom’s magick. It must have given her some kind of enhanced abilities.”
Talisa glanced at the soldiers rushing through the room with armor and weapons. This was taking too long. She had to get back to Zagreus.
She stepped toward the hallway that led to the stairs below. “He’s badly injured. You need to help him.” She reached for Nysa’s arm to pull the nymph with her. “Just come with me and—“
“Get back,” a deep voice called from the direction of the stairwell. “Everyone make room for the prince.”
Voices quieted. All eyes shifted that direction. Several of the sentries Talisa had alerted in the gatehouse suddenly appeared, carrying a bloody and still Zagreus on some kind of stretcher.
Talisa’s heart lurched into her throat. She pushed her way through the crowd to his side and quickly reached for his wrist to feel for a pulse.
She swallowed hard. He looked so much worse in the light. Cuts and bruises and bite marks and scrapes. And blood. So much blood. Everywhere.
She moved her fingers against his wrist, growing frantic when she couldn’t find his pulse.
There.
Oh, thank the Fates. It was still faint, but steady.
Talisa quickly looked over her shoulder. “Nysa?”
Nysa’s eyes were wide and horrified as she stepped up at Talisa’s side, her gaze skipping over Zagreus’s bruised and battered face, his torn skin, filthy and shredded clothing, and the deeper wounds—all over his body—oozing blood. “Dear gods.”
“You can heal him, right”
“I...” A sick look passed over the nymph’s face.
“Nysa, focus.” Talisa grasped her arm and shook her. “You can heal him.”
Nysa’s gaze shifted Talisa’s way. Their eyes met, and Nysa slowly nodded, but there was no certainty in her features. No reassurance, either.
Looking back at Zagreus, Nysa carefully laid the palm of her hand over his forehead and closed her eyes, as if using her senses to search for… something. And in the silence, as she waited, Talisa’s heart raced so fast, she was almost certain it would fly right out of her chest.
Nysa’s blue eyes snapped open. Lifting her head, she turned to several nymphs at her back who had been hovering close, trying to get a look at Zagreus. “Lavender. I need lavender soaked cloths. Quickly. There’s not much time.” Turning back to the guards holding the stretcher, she said, “Take him to his chamber. Place him carefully on the bed.”
They nodded and hustled off with Zagreus, breaking Talisa’s hold on his hand.
To another nymph at her side, Nysa recited a list of herbs and other supplies she needed. As that nymph scurried away, Nysa finally turned her gaze on Talisa once more.
“I’ll do whatever I can.” She gripped Talisa’s hand tightly. Her eyes were steady, no longer horrified, but there was still no confidence in those blue irises. Nothing that put Talisa’s fears to rest.
Nysa glanced toward the male still standing behind her. “This is Rhen. He’s the captain of the Prince’s Guard. Tell him what happened. Then come find me.”
Nysa left, quickly climbing the stairs toward Zagreus’s bedchamber. Feeling useless, Talisa watched her go, a mixture of fear and agony swirling inside that made it hard to think.
“Princess?”
Rhen’s voice brought Talisa’s around. She swallowed, reminding herself to focus on the steps. One thing at a time. She’d gotten him back. He was going to be okay. Now she had to make sure everyone else in this kingdom stayed safe.
“The border is unsecured.” She looked up at Rhen. “Zagreus’s magick is flickering. How many mages besides Ana was he training?”
“A handful. Four, I think.”
“Find them. Have them meet me at the tunnel door that leads out from the dungeon. We have to get the border resecured.”
Rhen whistled for a nymph walking by. When she stopped, he gave directions for the mages and told the nymph to hurry.
Talisa turned toward the stairwell that led down. As Rhen fell into step beside her, she said, “You need to send sentries to the stone arch. We killed as many satyrs as we could, but their remains will draw attention.”
“Yes, princess.”
“You also need to get any weak spots in the border fortified. I know there are other entrances. Those satyrs knew where that entry point was located. They were waiting for us to step through. Even if we can get the border reformed, they’ll still try to get in.”
“We’ll keep them out, princess. Don’t worry.”
Don’t worry. As if. She couldn’t not worry. Not when the life of every person in this kingdom suddenly depended on her.
Especially Zagreus’s.
“You’re all idiots!” Pandora shoved her foot into the belly of the closest satyr in the main room of the fortress, sending him stumbling back several steps.
He grunted and fell into the satyrs at his back. They growled and pushed him forward. His hooves scraped the rock floor as he tried to keep himself from going down, and his coal black eyes simmered with malice, but he had the good sense not to retaliate.
The only good sense any of these morons apparently had as far as Pandora was concerned.
Her disgust grew to epic levels. She swiped at a twig still stuck in her hair as she paced away from the pathetic beast whose name she couldn’t even remember. “I gave you one job, and you failed at even that.”
“But we didn’t,” the tall satyr to her left said, the one who was in charge of this ridiculous rag-tag group. “We drew Zagreus and his guards away from the stone arch and kept them busy all day, just as you instructed.”
She glared at the satyr leaning against the wall with a smug expression.
Tohr. That was his name. He liked to joke he was as strong as the Norse god of thunder. While it may be true he
was stronger than the rest of these fools, he was also as dumb as a bag of rocks. And just about as useful to her at the moment.
“That was only one part of the plan.” She motioned toward the satyr she’d just kicked and the band of merry morons at his back. “These pinheads were supposed to kill the Argolean female. I led them right to her. Her gifts were bound. She was the easiest fucking target they’ll ever see. But they couldn’t even do that. They’re incompetent.” She picked up a pitcher on a nearby table and hurled it toward them. “Now every moment I spent manipulating Zagreus was for nothing!”
The satyrs lurched back as a group. The one she’d kicked cowered and covered his head with his hands. The ceramic pitcher shattered against his arms and head, dousing him with water, spraying over the others, the pieces clattering against the stones at his feet.
“From where we’re standing,” Tohr said, “it looks like you’re the one who failed. It took you too long to get her out to the forest. And I lost nearly fifty men thanks to you.”
Pandora whirled on Tohr. “I would be very careful with your words, beast. I am more powerful than all of your so-called men put together.”
“Not without your box,” he mumbled, crossing his arms in a defiant move that made her want to grind him to dust with her heel.
Which she could very well do with her box.
Of course, if she had any hope of getting her plan back on track, she couldn’t give in to the urge.
She drew a deep breath for patience, not willing to let them know why Zagreus was so important to her plans.
When she felt steady, she looked back at Tohr. “Without my box, you have no hope of getting Zagreus back as your leader. You should be kissing my feet and thanking me for taking pity on you and your pathetic excuse of an army.” She narrowed her eyes and stepped toward him. “You were starving before I found you. On the verge of dying out. And now look at you.”
“Yeah, look at us now.” He met her stare head-on. Not backing down. The others were silent, sensing a showdown. “We look pretty damn strong to me. Even without the fifty you led to their slaughter tonight. And with our newest prisoner, we might not even need a new leader.”
A tingle rushed down her spine. “What prisoner?”
One corner of his lips curled, just the slightest snarl when he said, “An Argonaut. A very valuable Argonaut. One who could go head-to-head with Zagreus. Or you, even with your box.”
Pandora’s mind rushed back over everything she knew about the Argonauts, her unfocused gaze skipping around the room. They each had unique gifts—one per warrior, though none were as strong as any of the gods. None but—
Oh shit.
Her gaze snapped back to Tohr. “Maximus.” The one the goddess Atalanta had kidnapped as a child, raised, and trained. The one, rumor had it, who possessed the power of transferability—the ability to take on the powers of any being he faced. “You found the Argonaut Maximus?”
“We didn’t find him. We captured him.”
The semantics were of no interest to her. But this—the Argonaut… This was a game changer.
She fought from smiling so she didn’t give herself away. These idiots had no idea what they’d found.
She fixed an impassive look on her face and turned toward Tohr. “I want to see him.”
Tohr huffed. “You? Why? I thought all you cared about was Zagreus.”
She tamped down her excitement and forced a scowl for the satyr’s benefit. “If he really is an Argonaut, he was probably looking for the Argolean female you let get away tonight. There’s no way he’ll help you.”
“There is if we force him.”
She rolled her eyes. “Forcing him will get you nowhere. Argonauts are fiercely loyal. They’re heroes, for fuck’s sake. It’s in their DNA. But I can help with that.”
“How?”
She lifted her chin, a subtle movement that also straightened her back and pushed her breasts out, just a touch. “I have my ways.”
The satyr’s eyes locked on her chest. He might be stupid, but he was still male. And too dumb to know he looked like an even bigger fool, lusting after her when there was no way in hell he would ever get the opportunity to touch her.
His glazed eyes slowly lifted from her chest to her face. “You’re going to fuck him into submission, aren’t you?”
“Only if he’s lucky.” She grinned. “And his fuckability is dependent on whether or not I think he can secure what I—what we want,” she corrected so the idiot wouldn’t cue into her plan. Her smile faded. “Meanwhile, your life and the lives of your so-called men are riding on the decision you make right now. Take me to him and live, or don’t and find out just how powerful my box truly is. The choice is yours.”
The satyr stared at her with a vengeance she knew he longed to let loose. Tension crackled between them. A tension that only amped her adrenaline and made her more convinced she’d win this battle.
Oh, he may think himself a strong being, but deep down he knew he was no match for her. The biggest mistake he’d ever made was being fooled by her good looks and damsel-in-distress act when she’d first found his gang. The second was falling for her ruse and stealing her treasure back from that fool of a Titan, Epimetheus.
He pushed away from the wall and stalked past her. “He’s in the abyss.”
Knowing she’d won, Pandora turned to follow. “Of course he is.”
She wanted a shower. Wanted one night’s rest. But this was too important to ignore. And her disheveled appearance would only help her where she was headed next.
“Did you take any personal belongings from him before you threw him down there?” She followed Tohr into the dimly lit corridor.
“Only his blade.”
Perfect. “I’ll need to see it before I meet him.”
Tohr stopped at the end of the hallway and glared down at her. “The blade is mine.”
“I care not for the weapon. I simply need to hold it.”
“Why?”
Gods, he really was an idiot. She didn’t feel like explaining but she needed to get this show on the road. “Because personal objects have energy. Energy that connects them to their owners. And I need access to that connection so I can turn him.”
Tohr’s eyes narrowed. “You just said he was fiercely loyal. Even if you fuck him senseless, you can’t turn an Argonaut.”
She fought from rolling her eyes and worked for patience. “He’s mortal. And I was built to fool mortal men.” Look at you, moron. “He’ll turn, trust me.”
Tohr stared at her another long beat, then finally shook his head and moved down another corridor to their right. “Whatever. But if you kill my prisoner, I’m gonna be pissed. I need him to help me take that castle.”
Pandora smiled as she followed the satyr. Tohr’s singular focus was conquering Ehrendia and rebuilding the torture palace he’d encountered under Zagreus years ago in the Yucatan. He was such a stupid male, thinking only with his dick. The satyr was so clueless he didn’t realize if the prisoner was who she thought, Tohr’s days of leading anyone were numbered.
He led her to his private chambers, shoved the door open, and told her to wait in the outer room. As she did, she tried not to notice the filth on the floor and tattered furnishings in what she guessed was a living space.
Ugh, the males in this place were pigs. But that would soon change as well.
Tohr returned several moments later carrying a blade as long as his forearm.
Her eyes widened as he held the parazonium out to her, the weapon only Argonauts used. It shimmered in the low light, the blade wide, the handle thick. It was shorter than a sword, lighter and easier to use. And carved into the steel were the ancient Greek letters she’d seen on Talisa’s arms. The ones that marked all Argonauts as protectors of the mortal world, chosen by the Fates.
Her fingertips grazed the metal, careful of the sharp edges. It was cool to the touch, but she felt the energy zing up her fingertips. Felt the connection to its owner. And ins
tantly knew what she needed to do next.
She lifted her hand from the blade and looked up at the satyr. “Thank you.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.” She turned for the door. “I’ll meet you at the lower entrance to the abyss.”
“You’re visiting your box, aren’t you?”
She reached the open doorway and glanced over her shoulder at the satyr, not the least bit worried he or the others had tampered with her treasure while she’d been away. It not only cloaked the location of this rundown fortress, it was also deadly to anyone who tried to open it but her. “Yes.”
“And if this time it doesn’t grant you your wish?”
“Oh, it will.” She grinned as she gripped the wood at the doorway, already looking forward to meeting the mystery male below. “It always does. Just make sure your satyrs are ready to attack. I’ve a strong feeling turning him to our cause won’t take long at all.”
Chapter Ten
The nymphs Zagreus had been training as mages were all greener than grass—timid, nervous, and new to casting spells.
Ana had clearly been his most promising prospect, and two minutes with the others made Talisa understand why he’d spent more time with Ana. Especially now, when Talisa knew Ana was a whole lot more than the others.
Still, these four were their only shot at reforging the border, so Talisa led them out through the hidden tunnel and down to the pool at the base of the waterfall where the stone arch sat just beyond, hoping like hell this worked.
Through the trees and flickering magick, she could see Rhen and several of the other guards cleaning up the mess she’d made of those satyrs. So far, no new beasts had returned, but that didn’t mean they weren’t out there. Waiting to strike all over again.
Don’t think about that…
She turned toward the four nymphs, each wearing cloaks, each glancing around the dark forest as if they expected those satyrs to jump out of the brush at any moment. “Okay, focus. Like we discussed. You each know the spell.”
“Our magick isn’t as strong as the prince’s,” the blonde to Talisa’s right said with a nervous expression.
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