Cassie stared down at her hands. “I’m not that strong. I can’t do this on my own.”
“You would have Tara to guide you. A regent, of sorts.” The Pythia looked at Tara with a sad smile. “No matter what, Tara’s counsel can be trusted.”
“And who will become Pythia if I refuse?”
The Pythia shook her head. “I’ll choose someone else. Maybe Daria. Or Callista. But they are nearly as old as I am, and they haven’t long.”
Cassie’s hands balled into fists. “I’ll do it.”
Tension fell in the Pythia’s shoulders.
“But I won’t do it like you. I won’t be cold. I won’t be brutal. I’ll do it my way. No killing.”
The Pythia smiled. “I know you will try.”
The men stumbled back into the house. The Kahuna had a black eye, and the Cowboy was limping. Harry’s shirt was torn, and he had custody of the bottle of vodka. He lifted it and took a swig.
“Cheers,” he said. “To settling arguments the old-fashioned way. With violence.”
Irina began to pass out glasses. Harry poured. The Pythia raised her glass.
“To peace. Whatever the cost.”