“Aren’t we all?” I ask.
He bares his teeth. “Some are created better. Humans are so…breakable.”
Was that a threat? I’m pretty sure that was a threat. “Double-cross us, and I’ll show you just how breakable I am not.” My right hand goes to the hilt of a knife. Since the Hydra chewed off its own heads before Titos ate it, I got my blades back.
With a firm and distinctly proprietary hand on my elbow, Griffin draws me back into the circle of protection Beta Team is always forming around me. I guess we’re Alpha Team now. I’m not sure I can get used to that.
“Is Lycheron bound by vows like Magoi are?” he asks.
I nod.
The Ipotane scoffs. “Of course not.”
Searing pain rips through me, robbing me of my breath. Burning explosions snap through my blood and bones, scorching me with the falsehood and branding me with the truth. “Don’t listen to him,” I gasp out. “He’s lying.”
Lycheron looks at me sharply. As the inferno in me fades, he sniffs me again, long and deep, like he’s trying to learn me through scent. As he slowly pulls in air, his thick lashes lower, his nostrils quiver, and his full lips part. To my horror, a full-body shiver hits me just as everyone looks.
Griffin’s large hand squeezes my arm almost painfully now. “Do you vow that no harm, disappearance, or any other unexpected ill will befall one or any of us due to your summoning Artemis for the challenge?” he demands of Lycheron.
Lycheron never looks away from me. With my Kingmaker Magic still gently flaring, it’s almost like he can’t. “Yes.”
“Satisfied?” Griffin asks me curtly.
I do my best to ignore the intensity of Lycheron’s heated gaze and move into Griffin’s rigid side. Some of the tension leaves him when our bodies touch. “Not even close,” I say.
With a peevish flick of his tail, Lycheron stops staring at me and repeats the entire phrase, swearing to it.
No lie burns through me, which means he was telling the truth. Different place. Different rules.
CHAPTER 24
I can’t help listening to the words of the summoning chant, even though I don’t want to know them—especially since they work.
Artemis appears, dressed for the hunt, armed with a quiver of golden arrows and a stunning bow. I feel oddly breathless as she glides toward us, shadowed by the archer, who is never more than a few steps behind. Tall and regal, Artemis moves like a shimmering river, fluidly cutting a path through the greenery of the lush Ipotane vale.
Scenery that seemed vibrant and striking just moments before now dulls in comparison. The Goddess is magnificent, with a long, graceful neck, a firm, supple body, and skin so smooth and cool it reminds me of a moonlit pearl. Shapely legs flash beneath the slits of her diaphanous skirt. She floats more than walks, her arms gently swaying with every step, her elegant fingers loose at her sides.
Atalanta keeps pace behind her, her long hair swinging, her steps prowling, her hand on her bow. Her grace is different—animalistic—her beauty more earthy than ethereal. Her green eyes land on Kato and instantly flare with unchecked heat.
Kato stiffens beside me.
“Your dislike doesn’t appear to be mutual,” I murmur.
His mouth turns down. “There were mixed signals before the drug wore off.”
I’ll bet.
Atalanta isn’t the only female whose focus lands on Kato. Artemis’s lips part. Pink tinges her high, delicate cheekbones, and her stunning blue eyes widen in surprise. The longing and desire that infuse her suddenly unguarded expression make sympathy bloom in my chest. What a life—eternal virginity. I can now say with absolute certainty she’s missing out.
Kato’s hands clench into fists. I wrap my fingers around his forearm, squeezing. Atalanta glares like she wants to claw my eyes out, and I smirk. Artemis notices, too, and her dreamy gaze comes into focus with a flash of something dangerous and fierce. Then she seems to recognize me, and her anger dissipates.
The Goddess of the Hunt stops a few feet away, tilting her chin in a way that softens the long lines of her neck. A golden crown adorned with a crescent moon pulls tight, dark curls back from her striking, straight-nosed face. The rest of her hair spills down her back, the glossy spirals gently shifting on the warm, sultry breeze.
Beside me, Griffin looks completely thunderstruck. I can hardly blame him. I’m feeling pretty awed myself. It’s not every day you meet an Olympian—and she is gorgeous—but the hot knife of jealousy slices through me nonetheless.
I glance at the others. Flynn has stars in his brown eyes, and Carver needs to pick his jaw up off the ground. Only Kato looks like he might still be able to form a coherent thought, but from the look on his face, I’m not sure it would be nice.
Artemis greets us, her voice like a song on the wind. “Lycheron. Humans. I trust there is a reason to have called me from my mountain home.”
Mount Olympus? Or the northeast needle?
“Of course, my most exquisite moonbeam.” Lycheron’s voice holds a subtle mix of both fawning and charm. “And may I express my most humble gratitude for the superb golden fleece. It is, without a doubt, my most treasured possession.”
My jaw unhinges. He sounds like a different man.
Horse.
Whatever.
Artemis frowns slightly. “I did not gift it to you.”
Lycheron goes very still. I think he stops breathing. Ha!
The Goddess’s eyes suddenly twinkle with merriment. “But it does look stunning on you, moro mou.”
My baby? She could even mean that endearment literally—in the creationist sense. I get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. These two know each other. Well.
Son of a Cyclops! Lycheron set us up!
The Ipotane Alpha snaps his fingers, and a pair of huge males rushes over with two luxuriously cushioned chairs, placing one just behind the other. Other Ipotane bring platters of fruit and cheese and goblets of wine. While Lycheron explains the challenge so far, Artemis and Atalanta recline on the plush furniture, nibbling on grapes and hard cheeses and sipping their wine.
Artemis accepts her role as judge for the third task, giving no outward sign of favoring Lycheron for any reason of long-term acquaintance or shared circumstance, although plainly both apply, and Lycheron obviously thinks they’ll work in his favor. She’s a millennia-old Goddess, and yet there’s nothing bored or apathetic in her manner. In fact, her blue eyes shimmer with interest as she sets forth the final task.
“I helped set this challenge in motion by giving up the Attican fleece. Now give me something in return, and I will decide whose gift pleases me more.”
“Anything,” Lycheron says. “Name your desire, and I will go to the ends of all worlds for it.”
I scowl. Now that’s just not fair!
“In the interest of fairness, and speed, since humans do not have eternity as we do, you must give me something now, something you already carry with you.”
I’d found myself rather admiring her until that last part. Since Lycheron carries nothing but his own hide, hair, and, um…impressive anatomy, I’m thinking he’ll go with the thick, hammered gold cuffs around his wrists—worth far more than anything Griffin is carrying.
Griffin must be thinking the same thing. Grim-faced, he shifts from foot to foot, his hand hovering over the flap of his satchel. I know for a fact there’s nothing in there except for food, spare clothes, and a bunch of hellipses grass. His sword is worth something, but I’d hate for him to give it up. There’s Hades’s cloak, but Griffin’s was ripped by the Hydra and has a chunk missing from the back—hardly a fitting gift for a Goddess.
As I suspected, Lycheron removes the heavy gold cuffs from around his wrists and then presents them to Artemis with a flourish. She runs her long, elegant forefinger over the ridges and hollows of the hammered gold, hum
ming softly in pleasure. The metal reflects the setting sun on her face, giving her cool, pearly beauty a warmer, more radiant glow. Nodding her head in acceptance of the gift, Artemis places the cuffs beside her and then looks expectantly at Griffin.
For the first time ever, I see Griffin blush. “What I have in mind will take a moment.” His voice is gruff. He’s nervous. I suppose he should be. A lot is riding on this, and he is talking to a Goddess.
“How long?” Artemis asks.
He doesn’t meet her eyes. He looks somewhere lower. “Twenty minutes?”
Artemis inclines her head in assent before sweeping her gaze back to the Ipotane Alpha. Lycheron straightens. His tail flicks.
“Bring musicians,” she commands.
He gives the order, and a bevy of half-naked Dryads appears with flutes and lyres. Some play. Others sing and dance, moving with agility and astounding flexibility. I get why Lycheron keeps them around. Clearly, they provide all kinds of entertainment.
One particularly lissome Nymph twirls to the edge of the circle, her eyes meeting those of a male Ipotane tracking her every move. On her next swirl around, he grabs her around the waist and gallops off into the trees. They disappear, leaving behind the Dryad’s breathless cry of delight.
I arch a brow. Yes, clearly all kinds.
In the meantime, Griffin lays out the hellipses grass he took from the Chaos Wizard’s meadow. He’s going to make something, which doesn’t surprise me, and yet it does. What could he possibly create that Artemis would want?
With strong, nimble fingers, he separates the stalks and then begins to weave. Even though his head is bowed to his work, I can see the tense lines around his mouth and sense his concentration in the stiffness of his shoulders. I sit next to him and watch him work, supporting him in the only way I can—by quietly being there.
The circle Griffin makes turns into a cone. He extends it downward, each full turn around slightly tighter so that there’s a gradual but constant progression toward something narrower. I have no idea what it is, and I desperately want to ask. Being quiet is hard.
When the object is about eight inches long, Griffin ties off the ends and then neatly tucks them into the weave to hide them. I chew on my lip to keep my mouth shut. I’m worried. And I don’t understand. I saw the crown he wove for Kaia. It was beautiful and intricate. This is plain. The weave is tight and even, the form is regular, the grass is supple and strong, but it’s just an open-ended cone.
Griffin humbly presents his offering to Artemis. “An arm guard, to protect the Goddess of the Hunt from the sting of the bowstring.”
My eyes widen. What a good idea!
Silent and unnervingly expressionless, Artemis takes the brace. She tugs the arm guard over her left wrist and up. The top of the cone lies just below the crease of her elbow. The bottom hugs her wrist. A perfect fit.
She bends her arm and twists her wrist. The grass makes a soft creaking sound when she moves, and Griffin murmurs, “It will soften. With use.”
The Goddess’s eyes meet Griffin’s, and he goes very still. I don’t like the awe-struck look on his face, or the way his tanned cheeks color in the least. It takes all my willpower to not jump on his back, wrap my arms and legs around him, and snarl “mine, mine” like some kind of crazed octopus.
Quadropus.
Whatever.
Artemis reclines in her chair, sipping her wine with absolute calm. She still wears the brace. The cuffs are next to her. Her flawless face gives no indication of what she’s thinking, or whose gift she favors.
Finally, her cool gaze swings toward Lycheron. “I already have gold and riches aplenty. However, I have no objection to more.” She slips his wrist cuffs around her upper arms because they more or less fit her there.
My heart starts to pound. Griffin looks ill.
After a casual dip of her ruby-toned lips to her jeweled goblet, she turns to Griffin. “In my long life, my bowstring has hit my arm exactly five times.”
My stomach hollows, and my insides drop through the hole. In other words, we just gave her something completely useless.
Artemis flexes her arm again, making the grass creak. A small smile lifts the corners of her mouth. “That’s five times too many, and yet no one has ever offered me one of these.”
My heart kicks wildly. Hope nearly shatters my chest.
“This is neither particularly aesthetic nor entirely comfortable, but it took thought and effort, and for that, I will award you the point.”
I gasp in astonishment. Griffin smiles brilliantly, his handsome face lighting up, and even Artemis looks a bit dazed by the amazing curve of his lips. Knowing how starved she is for male affection, I throw my arms around Griffin’s neck and pull him down for a claim-staking kiss. And then another—just in case.
Griffin swings me up into his arms and kisses me soundly back.
Lycheron stamps his front hooves, bucking in agitated protest. “If he wins, do you have any idea what I’ll have to do?” he demands.
Artemis arches perfect, dark eyebrows. “Of course. I know everything.”
My head snaps around. Really?
“Then you can’t possibly—”
Artemis stands, causing Lycheron to fall abruptly silent. “I suggest you gather your Nymphs”—the Goddess offers the Ipotane Alpha a sly smile—“to make Sinta more bearable.”
Lycheron swishes his tail, the whiplike ends stinging the air much too close to Griffin’s arm. “The Hydra is restless, attacking when it shouldn’t. The herd should stay here until the creature settles.”
“The Hydra won’t trouble your Nymphs—or anyone—again.” Artemis tilts her head in my direction. “Her snake ate it.”
An amber sheen rolls over Lycheron’s eyes, lighting them with something primal and powerful that roots me to the spot. His chin dips, his nostrils flare, his muscles bulge and almost vibrate with fury, and I take back what I thought before; he is terrifying.
“Wait.” I’m confused. “My snake?”
“It’s always about you, Harbinger. Everyone keeps telling you that, and yet you refuse to believe.”
The blood crashes from my head, leaving my face numb. “No. No, you’re wrong.”
Everyone gasps, even Lycheron, who then stamps angrily again, glaring at me with those glowing eyes.
I swallow uneasily, still reeling from the Goddess’s words. “That is to say… Thank you for your vote. We’re forever in your debt.”
Artemis laughs, a beautiful chiming sound that reminds me of something I can’t quite place. “Poseidon was right about you.”
Do I dare ask? “What did he say?”
“That you’re reckless, hot-tempered, and irreverent in the extreme.”
I grimace. That sounds about right.
“Zeus has plans for you,” the Goddess continues.
“Plans?” I ask, suddenly finding it hard to catch my breath.
“It’s best you don’t ask.” Artemis glances briefly at Griffin, her brow creasing, and that scares the magic out of me.
My fingers tighten on his arm. “If anyone tries to harm him, I will personally see to their bloody and painful demise. Man. Monster. …Or God.”
Artemis’s blue eyes ice over. “The sharp-tongued Origin should be more interested in making friends. She may need them.”
Origin? A cold slab of marble seems to settle heavily on my chest. Breathing gets even harder. “The Origin has been dead for thousands of years. He’s barely a memory, and, to most, not even that.”
“Strange, then, that Zeus keeps saying it’s you.” Artemis’s tone remains frosty.
“I… But…” My ribs feel like they’re folding in on me. Breathe. Breathe. “How is that possible?”
“Not reincarnation, if that’s what you’re thinking. But you’re more a child of the Gods than you realize.”
<
br /> I stare at her, my heart pounding. “What does that mean?”
“Don’t you understand you have a destiny?” Artemis frowns. “I suppose not, or you might not have made it so difficult to keep you alive.”
I lose the battle not to hyperventilate. Tachycardia—also a check. Griffin’s arm comes around me, and I brace myself against his side.
“Gills.” Artemis suddenly snorts with mirth, and even that’s beautiful. “Poseidon primed you once already, time was running out, and Persephone was having a fit about your drowning.” Artemis laughs, like drowning is funny. “He was trying to think of another way, but she grabbed his trident and poked him until he did it.” She slashes her fingertips across her neck. “Persephone’s quite fierce, you know.”
“Primed me?” I echo.
The Goddess waves a graceful, slim-fingered hand in the air. “That other time you almost drowned. Quite recent. Not a good habit,” she adds offhandedly.
So this is Artemis opening up? Her people skills are as good as mine. “Persephone?”
Artemis looks at me like I’m a little damaged in the head. Or maybe a lot. “She sends her regards, by the way.”
I nod. Sort of. Mostly, I just shake. I have no idea why Persephone keeps sending her regards. Artemis is talking to me like I’m one of the family, her family, which I guess I am in a way about a thousand times removed. And she just called me the Origin. By definition, that means I am the beginning—the start of something new.
My eyes meet Griffin’s, and I know they’re scared and wide. It’s not that I wanted him to be wrong about everything, it’s just that I could never really make myself believe he was right. Now, all I can do is keep breathing, which is harder than it should be. It’s like someone cracked the world over my head. It’s falling all around me, and everyone’s looking at me to clean up the mess.
A memory hits me hard. Eleni and me high up in a leafy tree, our hands sore and raw from gripping the rough bark, our legs swinging, our guards combing the woods for us. Thanos whistling loudly enough to cover our whispering because he knows exactly where we are, of course. My twelfth birthday is approaching along with the rainy season, and Eleni is all that’s good in my life.
Breath of Fire Page 25
