Masterful Lord of Thessaly (Halcyon Romance Series Book 5)

by Rachael Slate

  Hidden in plain sight

  Lapith noblewoman Delia has been leading two lives. One, as the dutiful wife of the centaur Lord Hector. The other, a fierce Amazon warrior tasked with rescuing nymphs from a hellish fate of slavery. She’s just steps away from the largest rescue mission yet, and there’s only one thing standing in her way—her husband.

  Unraveling her darkest secrets

  As the heir to King Cheiron, Hector has borne the weight of an empire on his shoulders ever since his birth. With each passing year, Cheiron’s subjects look to him as their new leader. But he can’t rule a Kingdom when he can’t even solve the mystery in his own castle. The woman posing as his mate isn’t his wife, and the female avoiding him all these years is the one he can’t resist.

  A love too late

  When Delia disobeys the Amazon Queen to save Hector’s life, they are banished to Lapith lands—enemy territory. Forced to work together, they must ensure the survival of their races, and their hearts, before the coming war draws a line between them that neither will be able to cross.

  Free Read!

  Thorn

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Glossary

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Books by Rachael Slate

  Preview of Untamed Lord of Thessaly

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  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, places, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by Rachael Slate

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  First Edition September 2016

  Edited by Kelley Heckart

  Cover design by NovelArt Designs

  Formatting by NovelArt Designs

  Epub: ISBN 978-1-988396-05-7

  Kindle: ISBN 978-1-988396-06-4

  May your feet be swift and your blade sharp

  When the Olympian gods overthrew the Titans, they divided the rule of the world. Zeus proclaimed himself Supreme Ruler and governed the skies. Poseidon claimed the oceans. The Underworld, and the souls of the dead, fell to Hades. All were content with the arrangement.

  Until Hades met Persephone.

  Their forbidden love blasted through Mt. Olympus, initiating a cataclysmic rift between the gods. The imbalance in the heavens nearly shattered the fragile human world below. In punishment, Zeus cursed Persephone. Nine months of each year, she would remain by her mother’s side, tending to the human harvests. The other three months were hers to spend with her husband, Hades, in the Underworld.

  The arrangement pleased none.

  Centuries have passed. As humans turn their devotion to Science, the powers of the Olympian gods diminish. In an attempt to regenerate their divinity, the gods have procreated, breeding new species of being—such as centaurs, winged ones, and mermaydes. With the unique strengths of their individual godly parents, these descendants have thrived in their own worlds, alongside humans but hidden from view.

  The rift in Olympus widens as each god gains new strength. When the Fates intervene with a damning wager, these descendants become the answer to Persephone’s curse. Hades and Persephone’s quest to reclaim their love will pit god against god, in a tournament unmatched since time began. Victory will lie in the union of warriors—exceptional females who control the elements and the males whose love makes them strong.

  If they succeed, love will be theirs to claim.

  But if they fail, their love will fall to ruin.

  It is the eve of war, and the battle for the power of the Thorn begins now.

  Centaur lands, Thessaly

  Year 1384 of the reign of King Cheiron II

  Or the human year, 1689

  Hector plastered his spine to the wall, counting five breaths before daring to sneak a peek around the corner.

  And spy on his wife.

  What in Hades was Delia up to? The entire castle at Great Meteoron scattered in a thousand directions. This morn, the sons of King Cheiron had gathered to discuss the fate of their Lapith prisoner, Deimos, who’d threatened Oreius’s mate, Nysa. The question of how to proceed was tricky, for the centaurs had avoided a battle against the Lapith Prince Philaeus, now King, not six months afore.

  Yet peace hadn’t come without cost. Thereus’s mate, Melita, had sacrificed herself, the half-nymph transforming into a tree.

  Hector had been intent on arguing in favor of executing the bastard, rather than risk yet another of his brothers losing his mate. He and his mate might not be close, but he’d noted the look in Oreius’s eyes. The male would not survive another loss. Yet before anyone could speak, a guard had interrupted them, announcing Deimos’s escape. Half the castle guards were scouring the area, but it was unlikely anyone would locate the scoundrel.

  Puffing, Hector scowled into the empty corridor. Was this truly what he’d fallen to? Sneaking about in the shadows, tracking his wife? Well, it was better than pacing inside his chamber, pondering his brother Petraeus’s bizarre visit. After everyone had settled, Hector had retired to his chamber but for a moment before his youngest sibling came knocking, uttering nonsense.

  Follow Delia.

  He grimaced at this childish game. There were probably a dozen better things for him to be doing in this moment. His father, the great and wise King Cheiron, had secluded himself within his study, leaving the chaos in his castle to Hector’s supervision.

  He was the heir, after all.

  Unlike the Lapith humans, they didn’t employ such titles as Prince or Princess. The role of sovereign wasn’t necessarily passed down by blood. It had to be earned. As the eldest, Hector had been designated the heir at his birth, but until he actually assumed the throne, the crown could be assigned to another. There was no guarantee that he would rule after his father.

  If someone more worthy came along…

  Hector snorted and peered around another corner, catching a glimpse of Delia’s fluttering skirts and golden locks disappearing into the next corridor. Who was he to rule a Kingdom, when he couldn’t even rule his own household? His mate led a secretive life. They resided in separate wings of his castle at Eastern Ridge, and she only accompanied him when he pleaded with her for a show of solidarity.

  The Lapith female he’d wed a decade ago remained every inch a stranger to him. An unspoken agreement rested between them, permitting this impersonal distance. He’d wed Delia to satisfy his father’s request for an alliance with her family. Though he’d bonded to her—their union forged by the goddess Aphrodite—Hector experienced no effects of their
union.

  He couldn’t.

  He’d been cursed.

  Before his betrothal to the Lady Delia, he’d dallied about with a nymph. Afterward, he’d sought to end the affair.

  She’d not taken well to being spurned and had cursed him.

  He tugged on the collar of his leather tunic. If he so much as touched any female intimately, she would die.

  Needless to say, he’d kept his hands—and his heart—to himself ever since.

  Though his gut remained convinced of Delia’s infidelity, he’d uncovered no evidence of her lovers. He shouldn’t care, for he refused to claim her himself.

  But today, oh, today was not the day to cross him.

  Clenching his fists, Hector stalked forward, his hooves treading lightly on the alabaster tiles. The cascade of Delia’s angelic blond locks swayed as she swept past another corner, and he rounded it after her, determined for once to catch her in the act.

  And possessing not a damned clue what he would do if he did.

  Sometimes, it was far better not to know the truth.

  Petraeus’s strange counsel pressed into his mind, relentless. Follow Delia.

  He swallowed his trepidations as he came to a halt at the end of the corridor, breathing deeply before turning the corner. Delia’s lilting voice chimed a series of phrases and a beam of light spread toward him. He stepped out into the corridor and gaped at the Portal that shouldn’t be there. His wife glided through the opening, and the illumination condensed, closing the gateway.

  Where the hell was she headed?

  If he didn’t follow her through…

  Hector rushed forward, leaping through the Portal just as it closed around him.

  ***

  Delia rose from kneeling before the Amazon Queen, Hippolyta III. Her Queen. Though she’d been born into a Lapith household, Delia’s mother had been an Amazon. Their clever Queen had arranged the marriage of one of her greatest warriors to a Lapith nobleman, and Delia was the result of her cunning scheming.

  All to wed the centaur Lord Hector.

  And one day to rule alongside the centaurs.

  For a decade, Delia had prepared for her role, training as both an Amazon and a future Queen. Some centaurs might believe they’d forged an alliance with the Lapiths through her marriage, but the truth was no Lapith King would ever align with the centaurs.

  The god Apollo had ensured that.

  “Thank you, my Queen.” Delia bowed once more.

  “Go, my child. May your feet be swift and your blade sharp.” The tall woman’s blue-grey eyes sparkled with intelligence and wisdom. Though none knew her true age, the red mass of hair piled atop her head bore no grey and no wrinkle marred her supple skin. Her name alone had invoked fear and panic into generations of warriors.

  Respectfully, Delia backed away from her Queen’s presence and then spun on her heel toward the meeting place with her look-alike. The Amazon Astris posed as Delia whenever she had other duties to attend to, which was most of the time.

  “You’re late,” the female grumbled, passing through the sweeping branches of a willow tree. “I did my best to appear sympathetic to the centaurs, but if you think for one second that I’ll seduce that loathsome beast—” Scoffing, she shook out her pale locks, the hue bleeding to a bright auburn as she cast off the cloaking enchantment.

  “Astris, I would never ask that of you. Besides, you know the Queen’s stance on this.” Hippolyta had been clear that no intimacy between herself and the centaur should occur. He was their key to ruling the centaur race. The involvement of hearts had no place in the governing of their people.

  Her subordinate, Astris, bore no love for this mission, or for the centaur she pretended to be wed to. Yet Hector’s attachment to Delia provided great freedom in their manipulation of the situation.

  The Amazon tugged down the sleeves of her dress and stepped from the gown, handing it to Delia while she switched into the belted ivory chiton of an Amazon warrior.

  Twigs snapped from behind Astris. Delia froze, one of her arms halfway through the sleeve of her chiton. “Did someone follow you?” she whispered to the other female, her free hand inching for the blade tucked into her boot.

  Astris blinked, twisting around to peer into the forest.

  Before Delia could charge toward the possible spy, half a dozen Amazon sentinels emerged from the forest behind them and, with cries of war upon their lips, surrounded the woods around the willow tree.

  Their circle closed in and the grunting, low puffs of a male rumbled in her ears an instant before the Amazons dragged a centaur through the brush and shoved him at her feet.

  Delia gaped as the male raised his head, black locks falling across the smoky hue of his eyes, those depths swirling dark in fury.

  Hector.

  Oh, gods. Just how much had he witnessed?

  ***

  Hector’s horse reared, refusing to believe anything he’d observed.

  It couldn’t be true.

  Yet two females stood before him, and only one of them was his wife.

  Which one?

  If that weren’t bloody confusing enough, what was this talk about their Queen? His gut churned, the inklings of conspiracy and betrayal now stretched further than the infidelity of his wife.

  He had to inform his sire. That was, if he made it out of here alive.

  The golden-haired one who resembled Delia gawked at him while a dozen more Amazon warriors arrived and surrounded him.

  “What do we do with him?” one whispered to another.

  Hector swallowed thickly, his throat already sensing a noose closing around it. He was fairly certain he’d witnessed something he’d never been meant to. How long had this ruse gone on for? Was he even wed to either of them? Bonded? He tossed his head, scowling at the hazel-eyed female pointing a blade at him.

  “Take him to the Queen.” Her voice was unsteady and her brows drew together as though questioning her own order.

  Two Amazons snared his arms and spears poked into his hide. Aye, he’d best walk. Hector rose and followed the group to their leader. He only grasped pieces of their scheming, but it was enough to charge them all with treason.

  Or to start a war.

  He straightened his spine as he approached the Amazon Queen. Her blue-grey glower swept him, a frown burrowing in her forehead. “What is he doing here?”

  Ah, so at least everyone recognized him.

  “Queen Hippolyta.” The two sentinels released him and he inclined his head. Although these circumstances aroused his suspicions, he’d better play into their hands and save his hide first.

  She cocked her head at him and stepped forward, her intimidatingly tall form and robust shoulders graced with a bearskin, the beast’s fangs crowning her head. “Lord Hector. A pity you have found yourself here.”

  He tensed. Ruthless cunning flashed in her eyes. This woman wouldn’t spare him. Not for mercy, not for alliances.

  In her cruel eyes, he saw his death.

  He braced his shoulders, refusing to flee or to back down. “If you kill me, my father—”

  “Your father would never know. Dear Hector,” she tsked, “you are at war with the Lapiths. All I need do is deposit you on their lands and they will gladly take care of you for me.”

  Bloody hell. She was right. Perspiration iced down his spine. “You can’t do this.”

  The Queen scoffed at him, spinning on her heel. “It’s already done.”

  Two sentinels prodded their spears at Hector’s flank, ushering him toward the edge of their camp. A helpless panic rose in Delia’s blood. This was never their plan.

  How could Hippolyta do this? Murder the son of the King?

  Murder Hector.

  Her stomach churned at the notion. They might not be happily mated, but he was a noble male, and he certainly didn’t deserve such a horrific fate. She lowered her head into her hands and rubbed her eyes. No one questioned their Queen. To raise her voice against her monarch would be t
o sign her death.

  If she didn’t speak, this past decade would be for naught.

  Damn. She shouldn’t even be here. She ought to be joining Kyme’s mission to rescue the nymphs. The Lapith King had been imprisoning them in his castle and the Amazons had had enough. Delia had been about to coordinate the rescue with the centaurs, but now, that plan was shattered.

  “Wait, my Queen.” She grimaced at the sound of her voice, but the words were already spoken. After striding forward, she knelt before Hippolyta. “If you execute the centaur, I will never become their Queen. Please, reconsider.”

  “You dare to defy my command, youngling?” A cold bitterness crept across the Queen’s features. “You are correct though. With the centaur dead, I have no more use for you, either.”

  No. Her heart pounded in her ears and her mind spun. This couldn’t be happening. Nothing made sense. “I don’t understand.” She knit her brows together. “I thought you wanted the Amazons to rule alongside the centaurs.”

  Hippolyta sneered. “Not alongside them, foolish, naïve child.”

  Her blood chilled. This entire time, she’d been a pawn in the Queen’s scheme to overthrow the centaurs?

  The Queen jutted her chin, speaking with an imposing presence to the gathering of Amazons. “Take this traitor with him. Banish her to Lapith lands.” Her cruel glower passed over Delia. “If you survive, never return. You are dead to us now.”

  Wait, no. Delia gasped and struggled as three sentinels seized her arms, dragging her toward the direction they’d hauled Hector. She dug the heels of her boots into the ground, desperately attempting to wrench her arms free. “Please, my Queen.”

  No one answered her pleading. None offered their solidarity.

  One by one, her people turned their backs on her.

  And banished her from them forever.

  “Wait.” The Queen held up her hand. “I will give you one last chance. Deliver the male to the Lapith King and ensure his death, and perhaps you will be welcomed amongst us once more.”

  Tears squeezed her throat. The vice-like grips of her past comrades cinched around her arms, constricting the blood flow to her muscles. Numbness spread through her body as she trudged through the forest to the Portal in time to view the sentinels shove Hector through. Beams of light flared around the Portal and her former friends didn’t hesitate to push her through as it closed.