Three thousand satyrs…
Talisa thought of the handful they’d encountered at that club. And the fifty or so near the stone arch the night Zagreus had been injured.
She couldn’t best three thousand satyrs. She and Zagreus together couldn’t tackle three thousand satyrs. She wasn’t sure how many silens he’d trained in Ehrendia, but they would need all of them if they had any hope of freeing Max from those beasts.
Pushing to her feet, she swiped the dirt from her backside. “We’ll need to hit them at night, when they aren’t expecting us. We can set up some kind of diversion with your silens.”
Zagreus’s head swung her way. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about when we come back to rescue Max. With the element of surprise on our side we can—”
“We’re not coming back here.” He grasped her at the biceps and pulled her with him in the direction of the river they’d crossed earlier.
“What do you mean, we’re not coming back here?” She struggled against his hold. As they moved deeper into the old-growth forest, she finally managed to use her strength to jerk free. “That’s the whole reason we came out here today in the first place. To see if Max was there. Well, he’s there. Now we have to go get him.”
Zagreus motioned back the way they’d come. “Were you paying attention to what happened back there?”
“Of course I was. Look, I know three thousand satyrs are a lot, but Max took that one down with no trouble. You and I easily got through fifty. If we hit them when they aren’t expecting us—”
“Motherfucker. He torched that satyr.”
“What?”
“Son of a bitch.” Zagreus rubbed a hand over his forehead. “You didn’t see it because you were too shocked he decapitated that first one.”
He let his hand fall to his side and pinned her with a look. “The one he took the blade from? The one he pushed back to the circle’s edge? That stupid bastard charged him after he sliced and diced the first. Your precious Max didn’t even bother with his blade. He lifted his hand and shot an energy beam at the moron. Just like I did when I hit your cousin with my energy in that club. Except then I held back. I only gave him enough juice to knock him off his feet and zap him of strength. He torched that second satyr until its body went up in flames. The way I torched those daemons when they found us in that forest.”
Talisa stared at Zagreus, trying to make sense of what he’d said. “No, that isn’t possible. Max has the power of transference, yes, but he can only access the powers beings or gods use around him. You didn’t use that power when we were on that cliff. Did you?”
“Of course I didn’t use my powers. Did you want me to give us away?”
The incredulity in his eyes made her mouth snap shut. She glanced around, thinking back over every moment she’d ever spent with Max.
“I-I don’t understand,” she said. “He’s not a god. He can’t do that. You must have seen wrong.”
“I didn’t see anything wrong. You just don’t want to believe. How many gods has your cousin come in contact with? Before and during his time with the Argonauts?”
“I don’t know.” Talisa’s mind spun. “A few.”
“Like whom?”
She was having trouble thinking. “Atalanta. He spent ten years with her. I-I think he talked to a Fate a couple times. That’s not a god, but still a being. Um…” She scrubbed a hand through her hair. “The night Atalanta was killed, I know he saw it happen. He was a kid then, but… Zeus showed up after she was dead.”
“What about Hades?”
“Um…” She pressed a hand to her cheek. “Yeah. He said he was in the human world once and he came across Hades and Persephone having some kind of fight. It was violent. He ran before it was over. He’s also been around Nick more times than I can count. We both have. Nick lives in Argolea with his mate Cynna. He’s like an uncle to both of us.”
“Fuck.”
“What?” Talisa looked up at Zagreus, standing with both hands perched on his hips, staring into the trees. “Why does it matter which gods Max has ever met?”
He clenched his jaw and looked down at her. “It matters because I’m pretty sure he has any power they ever used in his presence.”
Her brow wrinkled. “That’s not possible.”
“Isn’t it? Just because you haven’t seen him access those powers doesn’t mean he can’t. He just torched a fucking satyr like he’s done it a hundred times. Only gods of a certain level can harness energy like that, and I’m one of them. That amount of energy, at that power? He was around someone who did that at some other time.”
Talisa’s heart raced. It still didn’t make sense, but if true, it meant Max was more valuable as a prisoner than before. “Then we have to get him before it’s too late.”
“We’re not getting him. Let’s go. You’re done catching your breath, and I want to get back before it’s dark.”
He stepped away, but she caught his arm before he could get too far, shocked he was being so blasé about this.
“We are getting him,” she snapped. “It’s our fault he’s a prisoner. We have to rescue him before they kill him.”
Zagreus whirled back to face her. “You think he’s a prisoner? He’s no prisoner. He’s their fucking leader.”
“What?”
“Open your eyes, Talisa. Your little Argonaut cousin is as powerful as any Olympian—probably as powerful as several Olympians. If he didn’t know it before, he sure as shit knows it now. You and me and Ehrendia’s measly band of silens don’t stand a chance against an Olympian with Pandora’s Box. Do you know what that box is? Do you have any idea? Yeah, Pandora might be mortal, but that box is a fucking genie without a wish limit. She can conjure any damn thing she wants from it, and she’s clearly fixed her sights on your cousin. He was as besotted as a schoolboy when they were sucking face. We already know she was working with the satyrs, but she wasn’t powerful enough to lead them herself, which is why she kept trying to get me to come back. Only I wouldn’t, so what did she do? She found the next best thing—or, no, actually, she found something better. Someone stronger. If he’s under her spell—and I guarantee he is—there is no way he’s getting away from her.”
Talisa couldn’t believe what he was saying. How he was saying it. As if it was no big deal. As if Max being controlled by something evil was… expected.
Anger welled inside her as she stared at Zagreus. Anger and a defiance that came out of nowhere.
“The only things we’ve got going for us at the moment,” he went on, “is the fact they don’t know we saw them today, and that the border of Ehrendia is solid. But if you go off with some half-ass scheme to rescue him when he clearly doesn’t want to be rescued, you’re going to screw all that up. You’ll get all of us—including every one of the nymphs back in Ehrendia—killed, and for what? So you can play hero? You’re not doing it. I’m not letting you do it. Come on.”
When he reached for her, she jerked out of his grasp and stepped back, not about to let him touch her. “You coward.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard what I called you. You’re a coward. You’d rather let that bitch continue to mind fuck Max instead of do the right thing.”
“This isn’t about right or wrong. It’s about what you can win and what you can’t. And we can’t win this. Not even close.”
“No.” When he reached for her again, she stepped back once more. “No, this is about you only looking out for yourself, like always. You’re as selfish as everyone said you were. I-I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. I was so wrapped up in wanting to think you weren’t what everyone said that I didn’t pay attention to what was right in front of me. You didn’t care about the nymphs or the silens when you decided to give up during that satyr battle. If those satyrs had gotten through, they would have killed everyone. Including me. And you didn’t give a shit then if your magickal border collapsed. You clearly don’t give a shit now.”
“Don’t tell me to take a breath,” she snapped. “I’m done listening to you. People have been telling me what to do my whole damn life, and I’m sick of it. I’m not a child, and you don’t get to make decisions for me.”
“Son of a bitch.”
Something whirred through the air. Talisa jerked that direction just in time to see a rock the size of a tree stump fly right toward Zagreus’s head.
He ducked out of the way and threw himself at her.
Her body hit the hard earth with a grunt. He landed on top of her, pushing the air out of her lungs. She struggled but he was too big, and she was having trouble getting air…
“Stop fighting me, dammit.” He wrestled for her hands, finally pinning them both above her head. “I’m not your enemy. And stop using your fucking brain strength to throw things at me because you’re pissed.”
“Get… off… me.” She struggled beneath him, her vision still red but growing dark at the edges the longer he pinned her to the ground. She was losing too much oxygen. Nothing he was saying was even making sense. “I don’t… need you.”
“You do. You’re just too stubborn to admit it right now.” He looked up toward the tree arch. “And you’re going to attract every damn satyr in the area if I don’t do something fast.”
She had no idea what he meant. But before she could even try to get her mind to work, he looked down at her, muttered, “I’m sorry for this,” then pressed his lips against hers in a swift kiss.
He was there and gone before she could scream at him. Then he grasped her wrists in one hand to hold them pinned over her head and held the other in front of her face as he muttered ancient words.
A spell.
She wheezed, “Godsdamm—”
The word wasn’t even out of her mouth before everything went dark.
Chapter Seventeen
It was dark by the time Zagreus reached the castle.
Flashing would have been easier—and faster—but he wasn’t about to give his father any chance to track him. Especially now, when Talisa was dead weight in his arms.
Rhen met him just inside the main gate, torchlight reflecting off his concerned face when he spotted Talisa. “What happened? Did you run into trouble?”
“No.” Zagreus didn’t slow his steps. He crossed the cobblestones and waited while Rhen pulled the heavy wood door open. “She’s just asleep. Find Nysa and have her meet me in the Ivy Spire.”
“The tower?” Rhen stepped into the grand hall behind Zagreus. “But—”
“Yes, the tower,” Zagreus snapped as he carried Talisa across the room, ignoring the nymphs and silens who’d been lounging on couches and chairs around the hearth with their wine, now sitting up, taking notice of him.
He didn’t owe Rhen any explanation, and he had less interest in being tonight’s gossip. “And tell everyone here to go home. What do they think this is, a damn resort?”
Rhen muttered “Yes, My Prince,” and slowed his steps.
As Zagreus reached the grand staircase and began climbing, he heard whispers and low voices but he still didn’t turn to look.
He’d become too lenient. Too complaisant. The nymphs and silens thought they ran this castle, could do whatever they wanted. They weren’t afraid of him anymore.
He reached the third level and headed for the tower stairs, his mood growing darker by the minute.
He was the god, dammit. He made the rules. They were nothing but mere mortals, and if he chose to, he could smite them all with one flick of his wrist.
Shoving the heavy wood door at the top of the curved steps open with his shoulder, he crossed the dark room lit only by moonlight coming through the tall arched windows and moved up the two steps to the raised platform. He shifted Talisa in his arms, pulled the covers back on the big bed, and laid her on the cool sheets.
Her head rolled on the pillow. Her arm flopped at her side. She didn’t move a single muscle. Just continued to breathe slow and deep as she slept.
Every single person in this castle was mortal, including her. And gods did not concern themselves with the opinions of mortals. How many times had his father said that to him?
“You’re as selfish as everyone said you were. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.”
Her words echoed in his head. Only this time, they sent a chill down his spine and a vibration through his chest he didn’t like.
She was right. He was selfish. He always came first. It was the one rule he followed above all others because if he didn’t look out for himself, no one would. Which was why everything he’d done since the moment he’d learned she’d fled the castle with Ana that night made zero sense.
He hadn’t been acting selfish since then. He hadn’t been looking out for number one. He’d been worried about her. Focused on her. And not simply on keeping her with him as he had in the past, but on keeping her safe.
Even to his own detriment.
That night—the fight with those satyrs beyond the stone arch—flashed in his mind, causing his pulse to tick up in his veins. Only this time the memories were sharper, more in focus. His own actions, or lack thereof, clearer.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs, then a gasp echoed at his back.
“What happened?” Nysa rushed up the two steps and pushed past him.
He moved back, snapping out of the trance he’d fallen into. “Nothing. She’s fine.”
“Fine? She’s unconscious.” Nysa moved her fingers against Talisa’s wrist, feeling for a pulse. “Rhen said she was limp when you brought her back.”
“She’s asleep.”
“Why would she be asleep?” Nysa placed the back of her hand against Talisa’s forehead. “Unless you…”
Her words died off, and she shot an incredulous look his way. “Unless you put her under a spell.”
His jaw tightened. He didn’t owe Nysa an explanation, either. And that vibration in his chest was growing stronger, to the point he was afraid it might rattle his teeth if he didn’t get some fucking air.
He turned for the door. “Alert me when she’s awake. I’ll have guards stationed at the door.”
“Guards?” Nysa said with a clip in her voice that told Zagreus she did not approve. “We’re back to this again, are we? What did you do to her?”
Too much. He’d done way too much to her.
And not enough at the same time.
He left Nysa without answering and headed toward the main level, where he arranged for guards to be stationed at the base of the tower staircase. He wasn’t sure what kind of mood Talisa would be in when she woke, and he wasn’t about to have her run off and do something stupid. Like march back to that satyr fortress and cause all hell to break loose.
Bypassing his bedchamber, he headed for his office at the end of the hall, pushed the heavy door open, and dropped into the leather chair behind the big old desk. He didn’t bother with a lamp, didn’t light a fire in the massive stone hearth, just sat in the dark, the only illumination from the moon shining through the tall arched windows.
This room was similar to his bedchamber—gothic arched ceiling, heavy drapes at the windows, and bookcases lining every ounce of wall space. But unlike the books in his suite, the ones filling these shelves had been collected by the maenads and the silens, a mix of fiction and nonfiction that chronicled their history.
He hadn’t read any. Had no interest even though his mono mia had always been a nymph. And as he sat in the dark and glanced around the cold room, he realized why.
Because he’d never had any desire to get to know anything about her race or her past, even though, technically, they’d been bound through several of her lives.
This time was different. She was different.
“It makes sense that I’m different, doesn’t it?” Her words in the lookout hit him out of nowhere. “Because everything�
�s different this time. Including you.”
He wasn’t different, though. Not really. He was still the Prince of Darkness. Still Hades’s son. Still immortal. Still doomed to the same fate, even if she couldn’t see it. He just didn’t know why he wasn’t acting like the selfish, ruthless god everyone knew him to be.
“I can tell you why.”
Nysa’s voice startled him. He looked toward the door to see her striding into the room with a tapered candle as if she owned the place. She lit several torches on the walls until they bathed the room in a warm glow.
“She’s still sleeping.” She blew out the candle in her hand and set it on the desk, then looked at him across the shiny surface. “Ida’s with her. She’ll alert me when the princess wakes.”
He didn’t like the way Nysa and the other nymphs called Talisa princess. As if they were privy to his personal business. He needed to get control of these damn mortals. And he liked even less that the vibration in his chest seemed to be growing stronger.
“Why are you bothering me?”
“To tell you why you aren’t acting like the selfish, ruthless god you think yourself to be.”
He stared at her with narrowed eyes, unsure if she’d read his mind or if he’d spoken those words aloud.
She was a healer. She had gifts. Had the mages taught her some of his magick? Or had she probed his mind when he’d been injured?
Nysa laughed and eased a hip onto the edge of his desk. “Don’t look so worried, My Prince. It’s not that bad, I promise. Love has a way of making us all act differently.”
He frowned, knowing that definitely was not the reason. Especially not after today. “The female is not in love with me.”
“Oh, I don’t know if she is or not.” Nysa crossed her arms over her chest. “I was talking about you.”
He choked on a breath.
Coughing to cover, he shifted in his seat and looked anywhere but at the nymph who was eyeing him with an amused expression. “You’re clearly mistaken.”
Wicked Page 26
