Entwined (2 page)

This was their soon-to-be queen. This waiflike
gynaíka
who would rule over their land, command the Argonauts and lead them in this dangerous time of war. Atalanta was roaming the human realm, looking for a way to destroy the half-breeds and cross into Argolea to exact her ultimate revenge for being cast out of the Argonauts. Now more than ever it was imperative they have a leader with resolve.

But that clearly wasn’t Isadora. Callia had suspected that for a while. And she couldn’t help wondering if maybe Leonidas’s decree was best for everyone after all.

“Isadora, you cannot let him do this to you,” Casey said louder, stepping toward her sister. “This is archaic!”

“Enough!” the king rasped, attempting to sit up higher in the pillows of his gigantic four-poster bed.

Ignoring the buzzing in her head that had been going on for the last ten minutes, Callia set down her instruments and eased over to help him shift up in the bed.

The king frowned, irritated he needed any kind of help, but he didn’t fight Callia. Today his mind was clear and he was making use of it while he could. “Isadora will marry by the next full moon. And that is final.”

Casey’s jaw twitched. “It’s not right and you know it.”

The king’s head swiveled toward his dark-haired daughter—the one who would never be queen, simply because her mother had been human, even though Casey was the stronger and wiser choice and they all knew it—and he squinted to see clearer. Callia knew he saw nothing more than dark fuzzy shapes. “Isadora’s binding to a guardian of
my
choosing will ensure the Council cannot overrule her authority. You already commandeered my first choice, Acacia. You do not have a say in whom I choose to replace him.”

A heavy silence settled over the room. One Callia felt all the way to her bones. She knew all too well about domineering, controlling
patéres
. And she knew when they laid down the law, there was very little for a
gynaíka
to do but obey. Silently, she cursed their patriarchal society that gave females the opportunity to be anything they wanted so long as the male in guardianship over them approved.

Isadora still did not lift her head or look to either her father or sister. And though Callia and Isadora had never been close, a part of Callia went out to the princess. A part she didn’t want to acknowledge or dredge up.

Ready to be done with the family drama, Callia gathered
the rest of her things and snapped her bag closed. As personal healer to the king, she’d spent a fair share of her time here lately, making him comfortable, seeing to his maladies during his last few months, but she didn’t relish it a bit. Especially not when she had a headache like this one. And every time she came to the castle there was the chance she’d run into an Argonaut. Which was a rendezvous she avoided at all costs. “I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow morning.”

His gnarled hand snaked out and snagged her arm before she got a step away. Even at 684 years and with his body finally giving out from old age, he was still strong. Stronger than most. “I’ll need you to stay.”

Anxiety pricked Callia’s skin. “That’s not necessary, Your Highness. And I have work at the clinic I really have to get back to.”

“The new moon is but a week away. After I make the announcement to the Argonauts, I’ll need you to verify my choice is in peak physical shape. I need to know he can sire an heir immediately. You’ll use my office for the exam.”

Callia darted a look at Isadora, who, if possible, hung her head even lower. How great it must feel to be seen as nothing but a breeding machine.

But, oh, good gods. Callia had worse things to worry about right now. The king wanted her to perform a physical exam. On the Argonaut of his choosing. Today. She could think of a thousand other tortures she’d prefer to this one. “Um. I’m sure another time would be—”

“It is not a request.” He released her hand and barked, “Althea!”

His maidservant scurried into the room with a bow. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Get me Demetrius. He’s with the Executive Guard at the portal, training the newest recruits. I want him and the rest of the Argonauts assembled here within the hour.”

Althea’s eyes widened with the same anxiety suddenly spiking Callia’s chest. “All of them, Your Majesty?”

He waved off her question with a weak flick of his wrist. “Go. Now.”

“Um, Your Highness,” Callia started as Althea rushed from the room. “I really think—”

“Isadora,” he said, ignoring Callia’s urgent protest. “Show Callia to my study and see she has everything she needs for her examination. I want you both back here when the Argonauts arrive.”

Isadora didn’t bother to argue. She turned silently for the door, her slippers making not even a whisper of sound across the stone floor. Callia sighed in defeat as she watched the princess leave. She had no choice but to follow.

“Acacia.” The king’s attention swung to his other daughter. “Find that husband of yours. Have him call back his guardians from whatever patrols they’re on. I don’t want to hear excuses. I want them here. All of them. Is that clear?”

Arms crossed over her chest, Casey frowned and stepped close to his bed. Dressed in a sleeveless white blouse and crisp black slacks, she didn’t cower in front of the king like Isadora. And she had no qualms about putting him in his place. “Oh, I’ll find Theron and tell him exactly what you’re up to, don’t you worry about that.” She tipped her head when she reached his bedside. “This is going to backfire on you. You know that, don’t you?”

The king only harrumphed and looked ahead.

“It will,” Casey reiterated as she leaned down and kissed his wrinkled cheek. “Mark my words, Dad. Isadora is not going to sit back and let you run her life for her.”

“Yes, she will,” he mumbled. “Because she’s not you.”

Casey straightened, and though it was clear she was fired up over what was being done to her sister, Callia could see the compassion the half-breed had for her long-lost father. A compassion Callia wished she felt for her own father.

“You’re right,” Casey said. “She’s not. She’s stronger than I am. Stronger than all of us. And one day soon, you’re going to realize that for yourself. Everyone will.”

The king didn’t answer. Not when Casey turned and
disappeared through the door. Not when Callia grabbed her bag and followed. But as she reached the threshold, Callia was almost sure she heard the old
ándras
mumble, “I hope you’re right. And for all our sakes, I hope this motivates her to finally prove me wrong.”

Zander was bloody and bruised. He took a punch to the kidneys that nearly sent him to his knees, but he didn’t fall. If anything, it steeled his resolve. He whipped toward the daemon at his back and plunged his parazonium deep into the unholy’s chest. “Eat that, you piece of shit.”

A roar erupted from the beast. It fell back, a loud sucking sound echoing as the blade exited its body. But before Zander could swing the blade out and to the side to decapitate the monster and send its soul to Hades for good, another jumped on his back and sank its fangs deep into his shoulder.

He hollered as blinding pain shot to his skull. Somehow he managed to twist and throw the beast off. He saw only red as he kicked, punched, swung his dagger right and left. Blood spurted, hit him in the eyes to run down his face. His back ached, his lungs burned. His shoulder was on fire where the beast had ripped through his jacket, tore open flesh and shredded muscle. But he didn’t stop, didn’t call out for help. This was exactly what he wanted. Adrenaline zipped through his veins, blending with years of pent-up rage as his arm arced out again and he took down another daemon. “Come on!” he yelled. “Is that all you’ve got!”

The two he’d sent to the ground seconds before charged again from different angles. His blade was a blur as he fought them back. From the corner of his eye he saw the others were gearing up for the next round. He was holding his own, but he wasn’t going to win this. Not six against one.

“Zander! We have to leave. Now!” Titus jumped into the fracas then, his sword whipping through air and flesh, decimating right and left. Zander heard shouts and screams,
grunts and the crack of fist against bone. Dammit, he had mere seconds before Titus changed the tide. And he hadn’t taken enough damage yet.

The rage built deep in his chest—as it always did. And that’s when it hit him. Just as he sent two of the uglies to the ground. The solution. Smack in the center of the forehead.

Stop fighting.

Titus could hold his own. They weren’t protecting any half-breeds on this mountain. There was no one to get to safety. If things got hot, Titus could open the portal and flash back to Argolea and save his own ass. So why was Zander fighting this when he could possibly finish it once and for all?

Before he could change his mind, he dropped his weapon. Stood up straight. And stared at the three daemons around him. They looked as dazed and bloody from the fight as he felt, but they weren’t nearly done. They each had the strength of ten men pumping through their veins. And from the menace rolling off them in waves, were getting ready for the final kill.

Yes.
That’s what he wanted.

Zander held his hands out to the side and closed his eyes. Sweat ran down his forehead to mix with the blood and other things on his face he didn’t want to think about. He cleared his mind and thought about…nothing. Just sweet, empty nothingness. Which was all he really wanted anymore.

“You goddamned prick!”

A body hit him hard. Took him to the ground. His head cracked against rock. But when he peeled his eyelids open and looked up, he realized it wasn’t a daemon on top of him. It was Titus.

Fire flashed in the other Argonaut’s eyes. The daemons growled behind him.

“You asshole. Get off me!” Zander struggled beneath him as a familiar, uncontrollable urge rolled and boiled inside him.
What the…?

“Saving you, you son of a bitch!”

Before Zander could comprehend that Titus had just read his mind again, the Argonaut brought his arms together between them. Titus’s elbows dug into Zander’s ribs, but who the hell cared? The only thing that mattered was the fact Titus was going to fuck this up.

“No!”

Titus’s hands came together, and the markings that ran from his forearms down around his fingers glowed from the inside out. A flash erupted as the portal opened. And then all Zander felt was air as they both spiraled through space.

He landed on his back against cold, unforgiving stone. Knew without even opening his eyes that he was at the Gatehouse, the portal into Argolea. But it was the bone-jarring right hook to his jaw that had stars firing off behind his eyes.

“You motherfucking son of a bitch!” Titus hit him again. This time hard enough to rattle brain against skull.

“Titus! Enough!”

Titus was yanked off Zander’s bruised and beaten body with a grunt. Dimly, Zander heard voices. Theron. Demetrius. A lot more swearing—mostly from Titus. Feet shuffling. Heavy breathing. And Gryphon chuckling in his ear. “Way to go, Z. What’d you do to light him up, anyway?”

Ah, hell. Just his friggin’ luck, all the Argonauts were in the Gatehouse.

Strong arms wrapped around his biceps. Pain shot through his left arm as Gryphon eased him to sitting, but he shook it off. When he opened his eyes and looked across the massive room with its soaring ceiling, he saw Demetrius holding Titus back in a death grip and Theron up in the Argonaut’s face trying to talk him back from a blowup.

The portal glowed and popped behind them. Titus glared around Theron’s massive shoulders toward Zander. Jerked against Demetrius’s hold.

Zander shook off Gryphon’s help and pushed to his feet. Rage boiled just beneath the surface of his control. Fuck it.
Fuck Titus. Fuck this damned war and his never-ending life. Fuck all the Argonauts, for that matter, and their constant interference.

“You nearly got me eaten because of your goddamned death wish!” Titus roared.

“Stop being such a pussy,” Zander tossed back. He felt like his shoulder might be broken. A rib or two. He’d lost quite a bit of blood, but he could already feel his body trying to heal, dammit. “You can save your own sorry ass anytime you want with that light show you just pulled.”

“That’s it.” Fury flashed in Titus’s eyes just before he yanked free of Demetrius’s hold. “Your ass is mine, you sick fuck.”

Zander’s adrenaline pulsed with the prospect of another fight. And that rage he worked so hard to keep a lid on boiled up to the top. He threw his arms out wide. “Bring it on, asshole.”

Titus moved like a flash of lightning, and he was nearly on top of Zander before Theron got hold of him from behind. “I said
enough
!”

The leader of the Argonauts threw Titus across the room as if he weighed nothing. Titus’s body hit a column on the far side, cracking stone and plaster with a deafening thwack. Titus slid down the column to land in a heap on the ground.

“Pussy,” Zander mumbled. “Is that the best you can do?”

“You.” Theron turned on Zander. “I should let him pound you into the ground after the stunt you pulled.”

Oh, yeah. Big-mouthed Titus had already spilled the beans. Zander narrowed his eyes. “So let him.”

Theron got right up in Zander’s face, nice and personal. And though Zander didn’t mind unleashing his fury on Titus, his rage had dimmed enough in the last few seconds to remind him egging Theron on right now was a bad idea. A descendent of Heracles, the greatest hero ever, Theron was strong enough to rip Zander from limb to limb and make him feel pain like he’d never experienced. Except once.

“You’d better pull it together right now.” Theron’s voice was so low, his face so close, Zander barely heard him. And Zander knew that was the point. “Find something to live for or leave the Argonauts for good. Because I won’t have you risking one of my guardians again. Are we clear?”

Zander’s chest went cold. Leave the Argonauts? That was not an option. “Yeah, we’re clear.”

Theron’s eyes narrowed. Behind him, the portal popped and sizzled again. Cerek and Phineus came through, snowflakes still stuck to their shoulders and hair, and glanced around with what-the-hell-happened-here? looks on their faces.