Chapter 10
Bellanca froze, staring at Carver. It shouldn’t be this hard to breathe. Suddenly, Carver leaning toward her on the beach came back in an all-encompassing burst of sensation. A mix of fear, regret, and…longing, maybe? Even grief? Whatever the last thing was surged up from deep inside and made her feel as though she were missing something vital—something she’d lost and needed back in order to ever feel whole again.
Her skin heating, her hair brightening the room, and her eyes probably glowing an eerie aquamarine, she sat there, a lump in her throat and a physical ache in her chest. Why was Carver doing this? Didn’t they make a good team? Nothing had to change. Different wasn’t always good.
Except, everything was already different. It had been since the day they arrived. And sometimes, when he coaxed her out of her comfort zone, like insisting she shore up her skills with a sword and master some of his fancy footwork, it was a good thing. But things like that didn’t change them . Conversations like the one they were having right now might, though.
And he hadn’t answered her question. He’d answered with another question, which she’d always hated, but digging deeper was too hard for her right now.
The oil lamps on the table were attracting moths, and she reached out, turning the closest one down. Even the slight twist of her fingers made her wrist ache, and she knew she was in for days of pain. “We finally got some good information tonight. Automatons. That’s new, at least.”
Carver looked at her for a long moment before shifting his already shuttered gaze to the side. He picked up the change of subject—thank the gods. “Hephaestus crafts automatons to help him in his workshops. He makes metal beings become animate to perform certain tasks. Taking you off the game board must’ve been tonight’s task.”
Keeping everything stiff, Bellanca wafted her arms in the air, trying to dry her wrists faster. “His history on Mount Olympus is unclear. He’s either the son of Hera and Zeus or the son of Hera alone.”
“Like Athena for Zeus?”
She nodded, her galloping pulse calming as the new topic took hold. “Just one parent. Hephaestus might’ve been Hera’s revenge for Zeus popping out Athena on his own.”
“So Hephaestus could’ve already been anti-Zeus from the start?”
“Maybe…” Not sure, she shrugged. “That never stopped him from being the blacksmith to the gods, making their weapons and equipment, and living on Mount Olympus—until he was cast out by either Hera or Zeus. The stories aren’t clear on that, but I’m guessing we might know for sure now.”
“Attacking us means siding against Zeus.”
“That’s my take on it.” Bellanca checked her wrists. Still wet. And still throbbing, although the cool cloths had helped. “Zeus must’ve been the one to exile Hephaestus from Mount Olympus and brutally toss him off the mountaintop. Hephaestus was gravely injured in the fight. They say he still limps.”
The thundercloud sitting on Carver’s brow slowly dissipated. Looking pensive, he said, “Do you know what this means? We might be the only humans to actually know who cast Hephaestus from Mount Olympus.”
“ If we’re right,” she cautioned.
“Assuming we are, then who has he sided with now? Who’s behind it all?”
At a loss, Bellanca shook her head. “Maybe Cleito can tell us.”
Doubt dimmed Carver’s features as he leaned back in his chair. The wood creaked, loud in the quiet room. “We have a lot riding on Cleito. We have since the beginning, but now that we know she’s a Chaos Wizard, the stakes are even higher.” Thinking, he slowly tapped a finger against the tabletop. “But if I can get her alone and somewhere she feels safe, maybe I can get something directly from Zeus out of her.”
Bellanca scoffed. “What are the chances of getting that much quiet time with Cleito?” An idea sparked. “Wait.” She pitched forward, her elbows rocking on the table. “Let’s steal her.”
Carver frowned. “Steal Cleito?”
“Yes. No one knows I can burn them alive if I want to, you’re fast and good at stabbing things, and now we have big metal harpy helmets to disguise us as we storm the castle.” She pivoted and pointed toward her bedroom. “It’s perfect!”
“Our definitions of perfect must be very different,” Carver grumbled as he reached out and planted both her elbows back on the table. He held on to them. “Stop waving your arms around before I can wrap them.”
“I’m drying them.”
“You’re going to hit something. Probably me.”
She scowled, his grip a branding heat on her already fire-flushed skin. “Cleito’s a Chaos Wizard, so in essence, she already knows everything. She just needs Zeus’s help to pull the right answers out of the mess in her head, and there’s a good chance Zeus wants us to get the information.” Excitement lifted her from her chair, leaving Carver’s hands empty but her elbows still warm from his touch. “It’s the answer we’ve been looking for—how to get Cleito somewhere calm where she can concentrate. The automaton heads will give us the anonymity we need to walk right into the castle, no one will—successfully—get in our way if my hands are flaming, and we can steal her from Eryx.”
His eyes narrowed. “Everyone will know someone on the island has magic.”
“So? Let them.” She shrugged.
“They’ll hunt you.”
“They won’t know who I am.”
“And if they do?” he growled.
“They won’t. Carver, relax.”
“Relax?” He stood and rounded the table, that thundercloud hanging over his brow again. “You’re talking about kidnapping.”
“Oracle-napping. She’s an adult.”
“Semantics don’t change what it is. And I know from experience that women don’t like to be carried off in the dead of night without a choice.”
Bellanca stepped back from the table. She didn’t like anyone looming over her, even Carver. “Your brother was high-handed with Cat at first, but it worked out in the end. They’re blissfully happy and rule a continent.” Or Bellanca assumed they were and still did. The new Thalyrian royals had hit a major snag because of this infighting on Mount Olympus, but Cat and Griffin had gained all the ingredients they’d needed to find their happiness and kingdom-wide peace again. She’d seen the potion.
Uncertainty drew Carver’s soot-black brows together. “Cat made us pay for weeks.”
“That was completely different.” Bellanca flapped her arms again. “Don’t you get it? It’s not a kidnapping. It’s a rescue .”
“But we’re not doing it for her. We’re doing it for us. We want Cleito’s power and knowledge. It’s exactly the same.”
The oracle-napping scheme cooled inside Bellanca, but she didn’t let Carver’s arguments put out the flame. “You’re wrong. Cat was happy where she was and shouldn’t have been dragged from her home like that, despite Griffin’s good intentions, but Cleito isn’t happy. She’s terrified, abused, and on a leash . We would never treat her like that.”
Carver watched her for a moment, preternaturally still, then finally nodded. “She’s very closely guarded.”
“We’ll get her at night.”
“How? We don’t have a team. It’s just us.”
“We are a team.” Or did Carver not feel that way anymore? Alarm twisted sharply in her chest. “Aren’t we?”
“I just mean we’re used to being more than a team of two for anything like this.” The knot gripping Bellanca’s heart loosened as he speared a hand through his hair, shoving it back. “But I also don’t trust anyone else. No matter how friendly I am with Dex or Silas, there’s no way they wouldn’t turn on us if it meant keeping themselves or their families safe.”
She nodded her agreement. “Same with Dimitri. He’s open to change, but that doesn’t mean he wants to make it. And if anyone decided to dangle one of his sisters or Lilika in front of Eryx to scare him into talking or sabotaging us, he’d do it.” And Bellanca couldn’t blame him. She was sure there were Atlantians who wanted to rise up; they just hadn’t swum on the tide that would float them to victory. She’d spent most of her life complying with atrocities. She understood what it was like, and how and why it could happen, even for strong people who hated every second of it. But it only took one person, in her case Cat, to show her she wasn’t alone in a fight—and that maybe she could win it.
“It’s just us, isn’t it?” The sudden intensity on Carver’s face brightened the dawn-dull room like wildfire. “You and me. Together.”
Magic licked through her, not out of control, but persistent and precise. It seemed to reach for him, as if he offered something to complete her power. She nodded. “It has been since we set foot here.”
“We only need each other.”
She took a moment to answer, not sure they were only talking about their mission anymore. It didn’t matter. It didn’t change the truth for her. “We only need each other,” she echoed hoarsely.
Carver’s steady, storm-gray gaze held hers. He stepped closer. “Us? Even after?”
Little flames snuck through her blood, carried by her fast-beating heart to every part of her body. Chest tight, skin hot, she asked, “After?”
“Once you’re the queen of Atlantis, you won’t need a fake king.” Carver took another step closer. “You can live your life as you want. You’ll make the rules, no partner needed.”
Her stomach hollowed at the thought of ruling without him. “I’ll always want my partner.”
“Want?” he asked roughly. “Not need?”
“I don’t need anyone.” That self-critical smile touched his lips again, and she quickly added, “Want is better than need. It implies a choice is involved.”
“You choose me?” He stared at her, his expression more closed off than ever even though his questions demanded an openness from her she’d never offered anyone in her life.
“I choose to keep my partner. I don’t want to rule alone. Only bad people want to rule alone so there’s no one to hold them accountable. I don’t want to become my brother—a mass-murdering maniac. Or my father.” He’d actually been the lesser of those two evils, so maybe Mommy Dearest had been good for something besides using her fire magic to show Bellanca exactly what terrible things Bellanca could do to others and then calling in a Magoi healer to “fix her darling daughter.”
And…
Heat snapped inside her. Her pulse leaped, self-awareness an unfortunate attribute she seemed to be gaining lately. It complicated everything.
Her breathing shallowed. What if she couldn’t imagine life without Carver?
He watched her from under lowered brows, his eyes dark and his big, shadowy frame towering over her. She wasn’t small. He was tall . And smart and strong and reliable. Unbearably handsome.
She stood there, stiff and awkward, unsure of herself, and confused. She didn’t know what to do with the fervent, solemn way he was looking at her. She needed flames and fighting, provocation and competitions. She could handle those. She knew how to.
One more step brought Carver right in front of her, nearly toe to toe. He slowly reached out and touched a red curl that glowed from within, gently bringing it toward him. Lifting his eyes from that lock of hair to her face, he caught her gaze in his. His voice a husky, fathoms-deep rumble, he murmured, “What if it doesn’t have to be fake anymore?”
The hottest whoosh Bellanca had ever felt blazed through her. Her lips parted, and she inhaled sharply as she struggled to subdue her magic, old and new. Carver gazed down at her as if not doubting for a second that she could control her magic even though she’d essentially set him on fire just hours ago. She held stock-still, her pulse pounding.
The back of his hand grazed her jaw, her hair slipping from his fingers. The light touch vibrated through her like the aftershocks of an earth tremor. So this was what it was like? For her skin to shiver in anticipation of another barely there caress and her body to ache for more contact, instead of shrinking away from it?
Desire stirred in her belly, low down and deep inside. She swallowed. Just yesterday, she’d thought she lived in perfect clarity. Today, she saw she didn’t. “I don’t know what you mean,” she rasped.
Carver leaned forward so slowly she was able to tame the sparks in her hair and hold back the fire rushing in her veins. His lips brushed her cheek, and her whole body trembled. In her ear, he whispered, “Yes…you do…”
Her abdomen tightened, and a needy ache spread through her, tangling with her magic in a way that made the ache even more potent and pressing. She didn’t move, waiting. Her lips heated, seeming to throb for a kiss—the kiss she’d missed out on at the beach. It would’ve been her first. The one she’d never believed she’d want and now couldn’t stop thinking about. Damn him.
Carver abruptly stepped back, leaving her swaying toward him. He lifted her hands between them and inspected her wrists. “Looks dry.” Turning, he tugged her toward the table. “It’s time for the honey and bandages.”
Bellanca’s jaw dropped as she stared at the back of his head. He was all efficiency again, that throaty gravel gone from his voice. She stumbled after him, her abruptly contracting chest clamping down on her heart like a fist. She snapped her mouth shut and regained her balance before he turned back around.
Slowly, she exhaled, trying to force all the new sensations coursing through her body out along with her breath. She must’ve momentarily forgotten that Carver was just lonely here. Lonely and confused. He didn’t want her. He’d always wanted someone else. And even if she decided to try a different kind of relationship with him, there was no competing with a ghost.