Tempted (34 page)

The king lowered the wreath to her head, but the pomp and circumstance was lost on Isadora. She jumped to her feet and grasped her skirts before he could launch into another speech. “Orpheus, Nick, gather soldiers from the castle gate. We’ll need some muscle when we storm the Argolion.”

“Hot damn,” Orpheus said, flicking Nick a look. “I do so love stirring the shit with the Council.” He poofed into nothingness before Nick could answer.

The sisters helped the now-exhausted ex-king back into bed. Servants whispered in shock as Isadora stepped toward Nick, but her father’s voice caused her to turn back. “Wait.” To Casey, he said, “Bring me that box over there on the table.”

Casey handed him the small rectangular purple box he’d asked for. He opened the lid and motioned Isadora back to his side.

“I suppose this is yours now,” he said. “The guard’s found it on Demetrius when he came through the portal. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Isadora looked into the box and smiled. Reaching in, her hand returned with a fat diamond the size of a quarter, attached to a long golden chain. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I won’t let you down.”

Her father only harrumphed as she slid the necklace over her head, offered his wrinkled cheek so she could kiss him, then eased back into the pillows. “I’m tired.”

A servant moved in to help him. Isadora stopped in front of Nick. “I’ll never forget what you did here.”

Nick’s chest pinched again, a feeling he didn’t like and didn’t want to get used to. “We’ll see. You still have to save him, Prin—” He caught himself. “Queen. Just don’t expect me to ever call him King if you do.”

She smiled and squeezed his hand, and in the soft light coming through the windows he saw the Titan symbol sparkle in the diamond nestled in her cleavage. “I won’t, Nick. I promise.”

Chapter 26

It could be worse.

As Demetrius pulled in deep, painful breaths and wished for death, he figured it could be a helluva lot worse. At least Isadora wasn’t here to witness this.

“Here, D.” Zander held a glass to his lips. “Drink this.”

The cool water was the best thing he’d ever tasted. He sipped slowly, felt the liquid dribble from his lips, land on his bare chest, and slide down to mix with the blood and sweat staining his pants.

“This is wrong,” Cerek muttered on his other side. “This is so fucking wrong.”

“No shit,” Phineus said. “I’d like to string up the damn Council and give them each a taste of what they’re doing to him.”

Demetrius’s vision came and went. He turned away from the glass when he was done, focused on simply breathing while his kinsmen’s voices drifted around him. If he’d had any strength left, he’d have dug deep for his magick to get the hell out of this one, but he was too weak. His arms ached from the weight of his body pulling down on the metal hooks high above his head. Beneath his bare feet, a pool of blood had gathered, dripping from the wounds in his back where the
tria
mastigio
had sliced deep into his skin during the cleansing portion of the execution rite.

He was strung up in the main Council chamber, on the raised platform behind the great alpha seal stamped into the marble floor where Isadora usually sat when she observed Council proceedings. Twelve massive pillars rose around the room in a vast circle. Guards were stationed at the main doors, another two on each side of the platform. The twelve Council members weren’t seated around the alpha seal as usual, but had taken up space on the far side of the room where they could watch the ritual in relative comfort. All except Lucian, their leader, who stood in the center of the vast room arguing with Theron and the cleanser, the hooded guard the Council had chosen to mete out the early portion of the ritual.

Footsteps echoed, and the Argonauts’ voices died down as Theron stepped back onto the platform and moved close. “The cleansing’s over. I got Lucian to agree he’s had enough.”

“Fuck,” Titus breathed. “Theron, man, this is wrong. He’s one of us. Doesn’t matter where the hell he came from.”

“I know,” Theron answered.

“He saved Isadora,” Zander said. “I was there.”

“I know,” Theron said again, running a hand over his brow as if he had the mother of all migraines. “I know all of that, but he wouldn’t talk, and the Council’s ruled. I can’t stop this any more than you can.”

“It’s not right,” Cerek added. “This ritual isn’t ever supposed to happen. I don’t want to have anything to do with it.”

Footsteps echoed again, and Demetrius cleared his vision just enough to see the two guards stepping up on the platform. The guardians’ voices died down as they all watched the first guard set out the seven jars, followed by the second, who placed a marble box in the center of the table.

“Hold it together,” Theron said quietly to each of the Argonauts as the guard opened the box and lifted the roll of red satin. He set the roll on the table, moved the box to the floor, and slowly unrolled until all seven ancient daggers inside were lined up, the bloodred satin beneath an eerie promise of what the weapons were meant to do.

“Fuck,” Titus muttered again, turning away from the table. “No way. I’m not doing this.”

Demetrius’s gaze landed on the symbols carved into each black handle of the twelve-inch daggers. The same symbols he’d seen on the trunks in the Hall of Heroes. Each blade had once belonged to one of the original seven heroes, and they were never used. Not unless an Argonaut was sentenced to death. Though he’d never witnessed such a ceremony—couldn’t remember when or if there’d ever been one—Demetrius knew how this was going to play out. Each Argonaut would use the weapon of his forefather to inflict a punishing wound. Death would be prolonged until the last killing blow. Then his organs would be cut from his body and buried in the jars in the far corners of Argolea as a testament to the other Argonauts of the swift retribution for betraying the order.

“If we don’t,” Theron said as tension grew around them, “Lucian will let his guards do it, and they’ll draw this out as long as they can.” He turned to Demetrius, and though his vision was murky Demetrius saw regret, not contempt, in the guardian’s eyes. “I’ll go first. I’ll make it quick, D. The rest of you”—he glanced over the other faces—“you’ll have to go through with it, but I’ll make sure he’s already dead.”

More swearing rose up. Demetrius didn’t care who went first; he just wanted this shit over. He licked his lips, struggled to find his voice. “Theron.”

“Yeah, D,” Theron said. “I’m right here.”

Demetrius lifted his head, pushed his weight on his feet so he wasn’t hanging by his arms. His legs shook. “I told you…before I took you to Atalanta’s stronghold to find Isadora…I wanted one thing.”

“I remember,” Theron said gently. “You name it and it’s yours. Whatever I can do, I will.”

Demetrius drew in a deep breath. “Isadora’s pregnant. She won’t get rid of the…baby. I already tried to talk her into it.”

A host of whispered
holy
shit
s and
skata
s rose up around him.

“She won’t…” He rolled his shoulder to ease the pain. Didn’t work. “She won’t bind herself to one of the other guys either. I tried that as well. She won’t listen to me.”

“She’s never listened to me either,” Theron said with a sad smile.

No, she hadn’t, had she? The
gynaíka
did things her way, for right or wrong, and he loved her more because of it. “The Council can’t know about the pregnancy. They can’t…”

Emotion closed off his words. He swallowed hard, tried not to sound like he was begging, but really, what did it matter anymore?

Theron laid his hand over the markings on Demetrius’s arm, high above his head. “I’ll make sure they don’t. And when the baby’s born, Acacia and I will raise it as our own. You have my word on that, D. Isadora will be protected. And your son will serve with the Argonauts when he’s old enough. Just like his father.”

Demetrius closed his eyes. Drew in a deep breath. Let it out slowly.

Yeah. Yeah, okay. They could get on with this now. “Thank you,” he said to Theron. To all of them.

Voices echoed around him. Words of regret and friendship from each of his kinsmen. They knew the truth about him now, and contrary to what he’d always thought, they didn’t hate him. Funny that it had taken all of this to get to a place where he finally felt…like he was really and truly one of them.

“Theron,” Lucian announced in a loud voice from the other end of the room. “It is time.”

Demetrius opened his eyes, looked at each of his kinsmen, and nodded in reassurance. “Look on the bright side. No one has to…deal with my shitty attitude anymore.” He swallowed hard. “No regrets here, guys.”

No one laughed at his lame joke, but as they each moved away, he felt better. Lighter. Like at least his life hadn’t totally been for shit.

Theron moved to the table and held his hand out over Heracles’s dagger. He hesitated, then glanced up at Demetrius. “No regrets,” he said softly.

Demetrius swallowed one more time. Steeling himself for what was about to happen, he nodded.

Some kind of commotion outside the council chamber brought Demetrius’s head around. The guard’s rushed to see what was happening.

Theron turned toward the others. “T, Zander, go see what the hell that is.”

Lucian rose from his seat. “What’s the meaning of this disturbance?”

“I don’t know,” Theron muttered as Titus and Zander jumped off the platform.

Voices echoed outside the doors, but only one cut through the chaos. Demetrius’s chest squeezed tight. “Theron.”
No. Gods, no.
“That’s Isadora. Don’t let her in. Please don’t let her see me die.”

“I won’t,” Theron said as he stepped off the platform and doled out instructions to Phineus and Cerek.

Hands bound above, powerless to move or even see what was happening, Demetrius held his breath as he stared toward the commotion and prayed with everything left in him that Isadora wouldn’t walk through those doors.

Theron and the others disappeared into the hallway. Voices rose up in confusion in the chamber. Outside, the sound of a struggle echoed. His heart lurched into his throat as he waited; then the fight died down and the click of shoes against marble resounded.

His heart beat so hard it was all he could hear. Then a swish of powder blue rushed through the doors and his heart sped up until he was sure it would fly right out of his chest. Isadora, wearing a gold wreath in her hair, emerged, flanked by both her sisters and followed by Orpheus and—
no
fucking
way
—Nick?

Isadora’s gaze immediately found him, and Demetrius’s stomach dropped at the horror he saw in her eyes. She nodded at Orpheus. “Get him down from there.”

Lucian lurched forward. “You have no right to interfere with these proceedings!”

Nick put himself between Isadora and the Council leader and held the sword blade out in his hand. “I suggest you rethink that move, old man. I’ve gotten rather good with a blade since we last met, and I have no qualms about slicing and dicing you.”

Shock ran across Lucian’s face, but he stopped mid-step.

As Orpheus, Callia, and Casey rushed over to unhook his arms from the bindings, Demetrius saw Theron and the other Argonauts haul Lucian’s guards in and toss them to the ground along the wall.

Isadora stepped up next to Nick. “I’ll take it from here.” Nick moved back. She squared her shoulders, leveling her eyes on Lucian. “By the power of the monarchy, as is my right by birth, I pardon this guardian and clear him of all charges.”

Fury erupted in Lucian’s face. “You have no right!”

“I have every right!”

Voices and motion ceased in the room. Next to Demetrius, where he was unhooking his arm, Orpheus whispered, “Go, Isa.”

“My father has abdicated the throne to me,” Isadora went on in a strong and confident voice. “And know this now, Lord Lucian. Not you, not any member of this Council, can overrule my authority. If you thought I was simply going to roll over and let the Council use me as its pawn, you’d better think again. The charges brought against this guardian were the result of biased propaganda and I’ll not let you use him in your political war against the monarchy or the Argonauts.”

She moved closer to the leader of the Council, who was now visibly vibrating with rage. “And when you address me from now on, you son of a bitch, you’ll do so as Your Highness. Theron?” she called over her shoulder.

“Yes, my queen,” the leader of the Argonauts said with a clear smile in his voice.

“Have the Argonauts escort the Council members out of the Argolion, please.”

“With pleasure, Your Highness. Phin? Cerek? Care to help me?” he asked as he moved past her, stopping in front of the twelve lords, all dressed in their traditional robes, shock and awe across their faces. He held out his hand toward the door on the opposite side of the room. “This way, Your Lordships.”

Demetrius could barely believe what was happening. His vision wavered as Orpheus and Callia supported his weight and helped him down the marble steps, but he knew the swirl of heavenly blue silk rushing his way was Isadora—his soul mate, his heart, his life—and somehow just her closeness gave him the strength he’d nearly lost.

“Oh, gods.” Her arms slid around his waist and a trail of heat exploded wherever she touched. “Is he okay?”

“I think so,” Callia said in a clearly shaken voice. “Some of these will need stitching, though.”

He couldn’t tear his gaze from her face. From her dewy skin, her dreamy eyes, that blond cap of gold that was like a halo around her head. “You…” His weight shifted from Orpheus to her. Her arms tightened, but she wasn’t strong enough to support him when his legs went out beneath him.

She gasped as he went down. Voices echoed again, but all he could focus on was her.

“Demetrius,” she said in a frantic voice. “Are you okay?”