Entwined (3 page)

“We’d better be,” Theron said. “I’m not kidding this time, Zander. Loyalties only run so deep. I will remove you if I have to.”

Removal from the Argonauts was not a simple process. It involved the king and the Council and an assload of red tape Zander didn’t even want to think about. And doing so was the equivalent of slicing a guardian’s throat, taking away not only his job, but his identity.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. Reality hit Zander as he stood there staring at their leader. If he was kicked out of the Argonauts, he’d be banned from crossing the portal and going into the human world. And if that happened, he’d lose the one thing that gave him any pleasure in his godforsaken life.

“You won’t have to.”

Theron sent him one more steely look before turning toward the rest of his Argonauts. “The king has called a meeting.” He looked toward Titus, now standing and dusting rubble from his body. “You have fifteen minutes to get cleaned up and over to the castle.” He glared at Zander. “And that time line is nonnegotiable.” Then he stormed out of the Gatehouse, all 280 pounds of pissed-off Argonaut.

Tense silence filled the air. Finally Demetrius, never one to care about any of the others, stalked out, followed by
Cerek, Gryphon and Phineus, until Zander was once again alone with Titus.

And shit. Now that his rage had ebbed and his adrenaline was flagging, Zander knew he needed to break the ice, but he wasn’t sure what to say. Apologizing had never been his strong suit. Even when he’d been a total ass.

Titus crossed the floor, his heavy boots clomping on the stones beneath his feet as he headed for the door without a word.

“Wait up, T.”

“Save it, Zander. I’m not in the mood for your shit right now. I’ve got my own hell to deal with. We all do. But then you never think about that, do you? You only think about yourself.”

Alone, Zander blew out a long breath. The Executive Guards, protectors of the portal, had turned their backs and were doing their best to ignore him. No surprise there. Word would undoubtedly spread to the Council about this little brouhaha, but he didn’t really give a rat’s ass. When it came down to it, the king had the final say in what happened to the Argonauts, not the Council. It had always been that way. Would always be that way.

Still not ready to join the others, Zander stalled in the Gatehouse, a massive marble structure patterned after the Temple of Hermes in Arcadia, Greece, with soaring columns flanking every side. The stagnant portal sat in the center of the room, a looming doorway from one world to the next, edged all in solid stone. His eyes drifted to the words inscribed into the rock, to the ones he’d read a thousand times but had never really seen.

Herein lies the boundary of worlds. Protected on this side, bound only by sacred land on the other. Those who cross do so at their own risk. But be forewarned: passage herein invites the bringer of nightmares, the watcher of madness, the light and dark in constant flux. And always, waiting…the thief at the gate taking stock for the deathless gods.

It always came back to that, didn’t it? To the fucking gods and their immortality. To what Zander had and didn’t want. He never worried about crossing the portal because he knew he’d always come back. But others didn’t. Others like Titus. Every time his kinsmen crossed, they put their lives on the line. And they did so for their race without question.

A heavy weight pressed on his chest. Okay, maybe Theron had a point. Maybe he needed to get a grip and stop being such a downer. So he was old. Who the hell cared? So his life was shit. Nothing new there, right? It didn’t look like death was an option, and bailing from the Argonauts was the last thing he wanted, which meant he needed to find something to live for fast—before Theron made good on his threat and threw him out on his ass, once and for all.

Problem was, he couldn’t see a damn thing worth living for at this point.

Callia glanced around the king’s royal study. Bookshelves lined every wall. The gilded ceiling was at least three stories high. Behind the antique desk, which was empty but for a lamp on the front right corner, a bay of windows looked down to rolling green hills and a lake shimmering far off in the distance.

The room smelled of tobacco and leather, was cozy and warm with a great stone fireplace and a trio of couches ripe for sinking into. Callia knew, because she’d once sunk into one after hours when the castle was asleep. And she hadn’t done it alone. If that little memory wasn’t enough to drop her mood a notch, nothing was.

“Is there anything else you need?” Isadora’s soft voice made Callia turn. The princess stood in the doorway with a strange look on her face, almost as if afraid to cross the floor inlaid with the royal seal.

It’s just routine. You’ve done this a thousand times. Doesn’t matter that this time it’s with an Argonaut.
“No, this should be fine.”

“Very well, then. We should get back.” But Isadora didn’t
make a move to leave, and there was a flat, almost emotionless look in her eyes that said going back was the last thing she wanted to do too.

Torn between what was none of her business and the regret she knew she’d experience later if she kept quiet, Callia heard herself say, “Tell him no, Isadora.”

Isadora’s brown eyes slowly lifted, and Callia sucked in a breath at what she saw. No, they weren’t flat. They looked dead. As if she’d given up all hope.

“It won’t do any good.”

“It will,” Callia protested, unsure why she felt the need to help the princess so strongly. “Stand up for yourself. Prove him wrong. Prove them all wrong.”

Isadora’s eyes didn’t even flicker. And Callia had a sickening sensation in the pit of her stomach. What had happened to the princess? This was more than simply being beaten down by her father.

“Stay out of things that do not concern you.”

She turned before Callia could even respond, and Callia sighed as she watched the princess go. Maybe Isadora was right. This wasn’t her concern. Sure, she felt bad for the
gynaíka
, but really…it was foolish to worry about someone else when Callia had bigger problems.

Resigned, she left her bag in the study and followed Isadora back to the king’s chambers, thankful, at least for now, that the buzzing in her brain was gone. They made it as far as the grand staircase before voices drifting up from below stopped Callia’s feet.

Male voices. Mixed with heavy footsteps that sounded like a herd of elephants had stormed the castle.

The Argonauts. All of them, just as the king had ordered. Callia’s stomach jumped into her throat and perspiration popped out all over her skin even though she’d mentally prepared for this moment from the second she’d heard the king’s command.

Theron led the group and bowed his head quickly when he saw the two of them standing at the top of the fourth
floor. “Isadora. Callia.” His dark eyes homed in on Callia. “How is the king today?”

“Holding steady.” She tried to focus on his features, but the Argonaut was huge—six feet five inches of solid muscle, broad shoulders and legs like tree trunks. Alone he was intimidating, but followed by five more Argonauts, each equally big and imposing as he was? He was like the beginning of a tidal wave about to sweep her under.

“That’s good,” Theron said. “I take it he’s ready for us, then?”

She would have answered, she really would have. But her eyes were searching of their own accord, skipping right over Demetrius and the other Argonauts until they finally landed on Zander. Alone at the end of the group, turning at the base of the stairs and heading her way.

Okay, mentally preparing herself and actually being in the same room with him again were two very different things. She sucked in a shocked breath, even though—dammit—she tried not to. But it wasn’t just
him
that elicited the reaction—at least she told herself that much—it was what had been done to him.

His face was black and blue from temple to jaw on one whole side. A myriad of cuts and scrapes marred his tanned skin. While his short blond hair was wet and slicked back as if he’d just splashed water on his face, and the white shirt he wore was clean and crisp, neither hid the pain etched into his features or the way his left arm hung at an odd angle.

He’d obviously been in the human world, fighting daemons, which was what he’d been bred to do. But a small part of her quickened with fear just as it did every time she thought of something bad happening to him.

Which was…bone-brain idiotic. Because he couldn’t care less about what happened to her.

“Callia?”

Theron’s voice finally registered, and her gaze jerked back to the leader of the Argonauts, studying her with curious eyes. In a rush she realized several other guardians
were also looking at her funny, and even Isadora was wringing her hands, watching her with a perplexed look.

“Y-yes?”

“The king?” Theron asked with raised eyebrows.

“Oh. Right. Yeah.” She shook off the flood of emotions seeing Zander always conjured, pushed them down deep, as she’d gotten good at doing over the years, and turned for the king’s chamber. “He’s ready and waiting.”

Her anxiety lessened when they stepped into the room. But that damn buzz picked up all over again.

Althea, who had been helping the king get situated with his mountain of pillows, went scurrying out as soon as she saw the Argonauts. Casey turned from the window as they filed inside. Wishing she had some lavender for her suddenly throbbing head, Callia took up a space in the far corner of the room, near the king in case he needed her, but well out of the way. She didn’t miss the warm smile spreading across Casey’s face when she spotted her new husband, or the way Theron’s eyes lit in response.

“
Meli
.” Theron went to the king’s half-breed daughter. Kissed her cheek and temple. They exchanged quiet words as the room filled with more people than it could contain. And though he probably didn’t realize it, Theron transformed from badass-biker-dude intimidating to downright handsome as he smiled at Casey and took her into his arms.

A hollow ache hit Callia midchest as she watched. There’d been a time, not all that long ago, when she’d felt the same consuming, electrifying emotions. Her eyes skipped back over the group to where Isadora was leaning against the far wall, also well away from the others, a far cry from the happily-ever-after her sister had found. Then to Zander, standing only inches inside the doorway, ready to bolt at the first possible opportunity.

Yeah, she knew that feeling all too well. It was the same one she got whenever she saw him. Anger welled up in her chest as his gaze bounced anywhere but at her. He’d shaved
off the little bit of facial hair he had the last time she’d seen him, but even bruised and beaten he looked more like Adonis than his ancestor Achilles. Bronze and blond, buff and beautiful. He was the oldest of the Argonauts. The only one rumored to be immortal. The one she’d once foolishly thought she’d spend her life with.

“I’ll get right to the point,” the king said, cutting through Callia’s dark thoughts, bringing her attention back where it needed to be. His voice wavered from his illness, but didn’t break. “The situation with the Council is getting out of hand. They’ve made no overt threat, but rumblings are filtering through and it’s clear they’re preparing to strike as soon as I pass. While Theron and I have had our disagreements of late”—the king inclined his head toward where he’d last heard Theron’s voice—“we both believe that the future of the Argonauts cannot fall into the Council’s control. Lucian has made no qualms about the fact he wants the Argonauts replaced by the Executive Guard. I don’t have to tell you that doing so would be our greatest downfall.”

He paused to take a breath, and this time Theron dropped his head and focused on Casey’s hand, which he held in his own, as if he knew what was coming but didn’t want to hear it.

“While I am pleased that Theron chose to marry
one
of my daughters, now that their binding is complete, it has left the monarchy once again vulnerable to the secret plottings of the Council. I see no other choice but for the same solution as before. Theron and I are both in agreement that Isadora must marry—”

“You knew?” Casey’s head jerked up, and she pinned her new husband with an outraged look.

“Shh,
meli
.” Theron patted her hand.

“—and that her husband must be from the Argonauts.” The king’s words didn’t seem to appease Casey. She glared from her husband to her father. But lucky for the king, he couldn’t see her reaction. Just as he couldn’t see the sudden
tightening of the shoulders of every Argonaut in the room. “We have disagreed on just who that should be. But as king, the decision falls to me.”

He pulled in a breath and seemed to grow a foot, looking very much the regal king he’d once been, commanding an impressive amount of authority from his deathbed. “Because Jason’s line is the second strongest of the Argonauts, that responsibility falls to you, Demetrius.”

Silence filled the chamber. All eyes shifted to Demetrius, in the back of the group, leaning one shoulder against the wall, only half paying attention to what was happening around him.

And then, when he noticed everyone looking his way, it was as if the king’s words finally hit. Shock ran over Deme-trius’s face just before he dropped his crossed arms and pushed away from the wall. He was the biggest of the guardians, at nearly six feet eight. And the shadowed eyes Callia had often thought were soulless narrowed and darkened to ebony as he homed in on the king. “No. Fucking. Way.”

“Demetrius…” Theron warned in a low voice, letting go of Casey’s hand and rising to his full height.

“I won’t do it,” Demetrius said, shaking his head. “And you cannot make me. No one can make me.”

Theron crossed quickly to stand in front of the giant Argonaut, who was now shaking with a mixture of contempt and resentment that seemed to roll off him in waves. Callia swallowed and wondered if the other females were thinking the same thing she was—namely, that a brawl was about to break out if someone didn’t do something fast.