Aether's Mark (Lords of Krete Book 5)

by Rachael Slate

  Where was he?

  She opened her hands like a book, illuminating them with her powers. Employing the starlight, she found him, in the most unlikely of places. The King’s bedchamber? Sweet gods, what was going on?

  After hastening down the hall, she halted outside of the chambers. The guards were unconscious, crumpled on the floor, and the door to the chamber made no noise as she snuck inside.

  Voices droned from within. The calm murmuring of the King. A tense grumbling like Rhoetus.

  “Aye. I knew, and I did nothing. If you have come to claim vengeance, it is yours,” Cheiron intoned, sounding resigned yet firm.

  Vengeance? She held her breath and stole closer to peek at them. The King knelt on the floor in his nightshirt, while Rhoetus paced, tossing his head. “You were tried at our Council and deemed guilty. Your admission only strengthens my resolve. I have no choice in this, and for that, I am regretful. We might have had a great alliance, my kin and yours.”

  “Do as you must. I have accepted my fate.”

  Cheiron bowed his head, and the glint of metal flashed in Rhoetus’s palm. A sword? No, a dagger. Meant to kill.

  The King.

  Minthe couldn’t hide any longer. She rushed forward. “Please, no.”

  Rhoetus whipped his perusal to her, such pitiful resignation within those pools, which then widened in disgrace, and the dagger in his hand clanked to the floor. “Minthe?”

  He glanced from the dagger, to the King, and back to her. “What are you doing here? You can’t be here.”

  “Please don’t do this. It isn’t your true path.”

  “What in the bloody hell would you know about that?” he snarled. “All you’ve done your whole life is run from yours.”

  His words cut her and she stumbled, bracing against the wall for support. “That’s not true. When I saw where you were, I ran to you, Rhoetus. To you.”

  “Why in Hades would you do that?” A shimmering blue breeze rushed past him. His forehead furrowed, a cry snarled from his lips, and he grasped his left arm, grimacing in pain.

  Ekho’s breeze of persuasion? What was her mother up to? She gaped at him, then blinked. The strain on his face as he gripped his arm… Sweet gods, she’d been around enough centaurs to know that could only mean one thing. Rhoetus was her mate.

  “Mate?” He gazed at her, such anguish in his expression. Haltingly, he seized one step toward her.

  The glint of his dagger caught her eye and she shook her head. “Don’t you ever call me that. I want nothing to do with you, you blackguard.”

  “Damn it all,” he snapped, rearing. “Everything I touch is cursed.” Then he disappeared, vanishing into the Aether.

  Minthe stared after him, in shock and dismay, and hurt beyond reason. He’d used her, this entire time, to get close enough to the King to murder him.

  “Are you well, my dear?” The King arose, striding to her side. She ought to be the one consoling him. He’d almost been executed, after all.

  Still, she shivered and broke into tears.

  “No, I’m not,” she whispered. “I doubt I ever will be again.”

  He was a bloody failure. Mayhap, this plan had been doomed from the beginning. Rhoetus snarled and pounded his fist into a tree. The anguish on Minthe’s face.

  It would haunt him for the rest of his existence. The utter betrayal. The hurt, the anger, the disappointment. He hadn’t realized how badly it would sting.

  Or how much he actually cared about her good opinion. Nay, how much he cared for her. I love her. More than just his mate. She’d claimed his hearts.

  In her presence, he hadn’t been able to fulfill his mission. Instead, he’d retreated like a damned coward.

  Well, she was lost to him forever now. Who knew why Ekho had persuaded him to forget their bond? Or why she’d compelled him to remember, in that moment? Bloody nymph. He snorted and slammed his other fist into the tree, smashing his knuckles. Even the pain stinging across his hand didn’t comfort him. The hurt in his hearts was far worse. Those cuts would mend. His hearts wouldn’t.

  He’d carry this wound for the rest of his life.

  Cheiron had been ready to lay down his life and surrender his kingdom. Why? Did the old centaur truly carry that much guilt?

  Doesn’t mean we’d been wrong about him. In fact, they’d been far too right.

  Not that it mattered anymore. By this time, news of Rhoetus’s treachery would have spread. All of Thessaly would be searching for him. An attempt on the King’s life was enough to mean the surrender of his own.

  Have to catch me first. He sneered, punching the tree again. They never would. Because he never intended to face any of them again. Not Cheiron. Not Minthe. Certainly not anyone else from Thessaly.

  If they ever stepped foot on Krete, he’d make sure they regretted it. This was his land. His home.

  They wouldn’t help him, so he’d find another way to reclaim it.

  By the gods, such was the only hope he had left to cling to.

  Rhoetus sank onto a boulder and nursed his cuts, wrapping bandages around his fists. Better to let these heal. One never knew when one might require one’s fists.

  Chapter 7

  Five weeks later

  No one had blamed Minthe for Rhoetus’s treachery. Not even her mother, Ekho. Had she known? Had any of her meddling been intentional?

  Could Minthe have changed anything? Was she actually his mate, or had that been another falsehood?

  Well, it was done. Cheiron hadn’t been able to keep the incident secret. Moments after Rhoetus had vanished, his sons had come storming into his chambers, as though they, too, had sensed something wrong. They’d recognized Rhoetus’s dagger. It hadn’t been hard to put together the pieces.

  She still didn’t discern any of the picture, though. Cheiron had been on his knees, apparently willingly. Why?

  Rhoetus had hesitated, hadn’t he? Why?

  Was his heart so full of vengeance, he hadn’t been able to share it with anything else, including love?

  She was a fool for ever trusting him, yet resentment brought her no answers.

  Ekho and Petraeus had secured their bonding. After the return of the Lost Lady, an enchantment had been cast across Thessaly, making it difficult for anyone to pass between the boundary wards. Not that she had any intention of doing so. With Lapith lands hostile, there were few places she could go. She was a prisoner here, even if it was for her safety.

  Her mother’s good intentions didn’t help. Ekho insisted Minthe stay with them, at Petraeus’s castle. It was even worse being around the pair of them, around their easy affections.

  Knowing such love might never be written in her stars.

  Knowing the only time she’d ever come close was beyond her reach forever now.

  Where is Rhoetus?

  She paced the moonlight floors of her chamber, the tiny voice of her mother pinging in her mind. Guide him. She’d suppressed it for so long, but the urge to seek him out wouldn’t be denied any longer. Just one peek.

  She could do that. Take one look at him and walk away forever.

  It might answer some of her questions.

  Determined, she marched to the window and knelt on the balcony, opening her palms like a book on her lap. “Show me Rhoetus,” she commanded the stars, requesting their guidance. Starlight fell across her hands, illuminating them, and an image formed. A man and a woman in a meadow. She frowned, not recognizing either of them.

  In a puff of inky cloud, Rhoetus appeared. In her star visions, she couldn’t always catch the words exchanged, and these seemed too difficult to pass through. She examined them, the two males exchanging greetings, before Rhoetus vanished again. Leaving her with no clue as to his well-being.

  Humph. Frustrated, she dropped the vision and swore she wouldn’t look again.

  At least, not this day.

  Almost three months passed. Despite Minthe’s vows not to watch Rhoetus, she did. Every day. Or at least, she attempted to
. He wasn’t always visible to her.

  After witnessing him with the couple, she’d followed them on their journey to Krete. The female she’d determined to be his sister. Instead of taking up residence at the cozy hut Rhoetus had brought her to, the couple retreated to the somber caves of Mount Ida. Therein, she observed his siblings, his people, as they went about their lives.

  It wasn’t right. Indignation rose within her for a justice never served these people, though she didn’t even know them.

  Rhoetus never should have grown up like this.

  He should have been a King.

  Slowly, day by day, she began to fathom the kind of desperation which had led him on a path toward such horrific acts.

  Those days she caught even the slightest glimmer of Rhoetus made her heart twist in inexplicable yearning. Because she was a fool? Or because the Fates had destined them as mates? She snorted. Certainly not because he’d been so close to claiming her affection.

  Before his betrayal.

  Today, suddenly, there he was again. Emerging from the Aether in which he hid.

  Eager, Minthe leaned forward, peering into the vision revealed by the starlight on her hands.

  The moment Rhoetus’s form came into view, her heart gave a stuttering leap. He perched beside a flickering fire, across from another male. Desperate to hear their conversation, she strained her powers, and caught just the faintest words.

  I’ve lost her forever.

  Speaking with his brother Demoleon had brought Rhoetus no comfort. He retreated to the forest on Mount Ida, the anguish in his hearts far outweighing any other ache in his body. Though, the one in his arm seemed to travel directly to his human heart, so there was that. Frustrated, he slammed his fist into the solid stone, but not even his knuckles suffered enough pain to snuff out that within his hearts.

  Lost her forever. Admitting that much out loud had been agony. He never would have spoken those words to his other siblings, but Demoleon appeared as forlorn as he.

  What a pair they made.

  Who could have guessed the minotaur treachery stretched so far, so as to even ensnare the harpies? Made sense, though, because centaurs and harpies had never been enemies before that day. Their treachery had been a shock.

  With minotaurs controlling their strings, the picture became clearer.

  What made Rhoetus even more uneasy was this talk of minotaur revenge—against King Minos.

  Bloody hell. Howling, he slammed his open palm against the rock. He wanted to be the one to slay the King. With the revelation, the notion of reclaiming his throne just became a whole lot more complicated. How in Hades was he supposed to fight the minotaurs if they’d somehow determined a way to untether themselves?

  His grand designs of war crushed beneath his hooves. This had been the journey of a fool.

  “Son.” A booming voice vibrated from the earth, up through his being. Rhoetus hung his head. Damn. Not him.

  Raising his face, he beheld the radiant figure of his father, Zeus. Supreme ruler of the gods on Olympus. “Father.”

  “Why do you give up hope when this is the path you have been destined for?”

  Striking blue pools the hue of the sky after a summer storm pierced him. Blessed with eternal youth and beauty, Zeus appeared as a male in his prime, his body forged of strength and steel, his features carved from smooth marble. Standing twice as tall as a man, he towered above Rhoetus. His locks shone like a river of dark brown silk across his shoulders. He wore a long ivory chiton strapped at one shoulder, sandals upon his feet, and coursing across his skin were flickers of energy that sparked a bright blue hue every few seconds. Aye, he wasn’t pleasant to embrace.

  “Thessaly was a disaster, Father.” He tried to hide his animosity in having been directed there in the first place.

  “Was it?” Zeus scratched his jaw, a sly glint in his eyes.

  “Aye. I nearly lost my head for treason.”

  “Did you now? Heh.” Only amusement crossed the quirk in his lips.

  “I also met my mate, whose rejection will soon be the end of me.” He thrust his left arm—and the agonizing lack of a bonding mark—toward the god.

  “Sounds to me like there’s more to come.” His easy manner washed aside and a serious fierceness cut across his expression. “Hold steady, son. The end is only the beginning.”

  “What in the bloody he—” Rhoetus snarled, but Zeus simply vanished. As gods do. Ugh. He scraped a hand down the side of his face and grimaced. So much for counseling. The advice of others had only ever led him to the wrong path.

  Mayhap, it was time to start following his own.

  Shoulders straight in hardened resolution, Rhoetus closed his eyes and concentrated on the Aether. What do I most want?

  The answer was easy.

  Her.

  Minthe paced her chamber, unable to touch the meal her mother had left her earlier.

  I’ve lost her forever.

  Had he? Was there no world in which Rhoetus could redeem himself to her? If she was even contemplating forgiving him, did that mean she already had? Have I?

  Humming, she mused over the facts. Rhoetus had come to Thessaly with the intention of killing the King. He’d used her company to aid him in this quest, or had he?

  What exactly was that rush of blue wind’s purpose? Mother.

  Hastening, she raced from her chamber, seeking out Ekho. At the entrance to the atrium, she spotted the lavender-haired nymph. “Mother. What did you do to Rhoetus?”

  “Hmm?” Ekho turned about, her bright smile dimming as she faced Minthe. “Ah, well.”

  “Answer me.” Minthe pressed forward, anger rising in her blood.

  “Forgive me, darling. I…” Ekho frowned, as though recalling something new. “I bade him to watch over you. Then I told him to forget you were his mate.”

  She punched her fists downward. “What? Why?”

  “I fear, I was instructed to do these things. I wish I could recall by whom.” Ekho pinched her nose and huffed. “Once I remembered what I’d done, I took away the persuasion. I’m afraid it came at the wrong time.”

  Minthe softened. During their imprisonment, many of the nymphs had been forced to consume waters which tampered with their memories. “So, it’s true? We’re mates?”

  Ekho nodded.

  Mate. Rhoetus. Her mind flashed through the times they’d spent together. His seed… Had he truly not spilled inside of her because he was a future King, or had somewhere in the persuasion been the knowledge that if he did so, he would recall she was his mate, and therefore, he hadn’t?

  Many things didn’t make sense.

  Unease spread through her muscles and she shifted her stance. “All the time we were together, was any of it real?”

  “I’m afraid, my love, there are only two people who can answer that.”

  Right. And the only way to gain answers would be to locate Rhoetus. With the veil of concealment over Thessaly, she’d ensured he would never seek her out again.

  So the only question remaining was, would she dare to find him?

  Rhoetus gazed out at his army. His people. Nay, his family. They were on the verge of war, of a losing war, and there was nothing he could do to save them.

  Except put on a brave face and pretend like they might actually win. Ha. He snorted. Despite his father’s reassurances that this fight must begin now, Rhoetus feared for the future. What would become of his people if they lost?

  Just as worrisome, what would happen if they won? Rhoetus couldn’t reign as King for long. Not with this blasted bonding mark searing his arm and reminding him his days were numbered. Until the lyssa struck him mad.

  Aye. Rhoetus, the Mad King. Had a nice ring to it. He scoffed but strapped his sword at his side anyway and trotted through his army’s ranks. Shoulders straight and head held high. Precisely as his father had always instructed him.

  No one need worry about their impending doom. Whatever happened today, that fell on his shoulders.


  Because like this path or not, it was the one that had been laid out for him since birth.

  Damn them all. He was King.

  And it was time to claim his throne.

  Chapter 8

  War

  Water’s Mark

  Cyane

  They were ready. The entire Karkinos army, shielded within their crab armor, paced in formation. They were the first line of attack.

  King Minos’s castle loomed up ahead. Cyane glanced to the formidable male at her side and he cast her a resolute nod.

  “Now, we fight for our love.”

  “We will win.” She gave his arm a tight squeeze and stepped to the side of the marching army. Nymphs couldn’t engage in violence, but she’d insisted upon joining them. She refused to stay behind, when she still might aid any wounded upon the battlefield.

  A valley stretched before them and, at the opposite hilltop, dark figures emerged. Riders on horseback. She breathed a sigh of relief. Not minotaurs, then. She prayed Demoleon and Enyo found success in the labyrinths.

  The waters of Mount Ida ran pure and sweet with healing powers, and Cyane had made certain to carry a full stock of them in leather flasks.

  Behind her, Amazon archers lit arrows and loosed them into the sky to fall as arcing rain upon the enemy’s ranks.

  The streaming arrows prompted the humans to charge forward, and the Karkinos were eager to greet them. Clanging clamor arose, filling the valley, while steel met steel—and shell.

  Cyane paced from the safety of the forest, waiting for her turn to help.

  This was a war they’d waited a century for.

  She wasn’t going to miss one second of it.

  Theron

  Theron growled and slammed into an armor-bearing human. Pathetic. He sneered, slashing his crab’s claw across the male’s midsection, straight through his armor. Metal was no match for shell. Not Karkinos shell.