Chapter 25
“We need to move faster,” Bellanca murmured. A sixth sense had been screaming Danger for the last hour. Dusk approached, reaching long shadow fingers through the trees, and they hadn’t crossed the border back to human-occupied Atlantis yet. And even after the tacit border, true civilization wasn’t anywhere close by. Nothing actually stopped magical creatures from pursuing them across the dividing meadow and river. She and Carver had broken the implicit pact between humans and creatures by going north. What was to stop a bloodthirsty herd of centaurs from breaking it by going south? They were still a long way from Atlantapol.
“As long as we make it before dark,” Carver rasped, his voice still hoarse from seawater and coughing. The fits had lessened in the last hour, but the earlier ones had left his voice shredded and given her a good idea of what had truly happened out there, even if he’d refused to elaborate. He hadn’t just swallowed some water. He’d drowned in it.
An awful lurch wrenched her chest. She slowly exhaled the tension. “If it gets dark, I’ll light the way with fire.”
The shadows weren’t so deep that she couldn’t see Carver’s dubiously cocked eyebrow. “And draw attention to us?”
She snorted. “If something’s out there, it already heard us.” Between Carver’s occasional hacking, the horses’ steps, and their—even quiet—conversation, it was a given they hadn’t gone unnoticed.
Arete’s skin twitched, confirming the warning prickle that crawled up Bellanca’s spine on little legs of magic.
“We’re almost to the meadow.” Carver nodded ahead. “I think the trees are thinning.”
She sat up straighter, peering forward. It might’ve been slightly brighter up ahead, but it was hard to tell with the light fading anyway. The moment the rugged trail through the woods would finally give way to a sloped clearing with a wide but shallow river running across the bottom of it, they’d hopefully be safe from magical creatures, and especially from those centaurs whose continued absence somehow worried her more than an actual confrontation would.
“How many centaurs were in that herd? Thirty? Forty?” The beasts had stopped chasing them when they’d stepped into the river. She could only hope they’d do the same this time if they showed up right near the border again.
“Something like that,” Carver answered hoarsely.
She glanced around. Not even a cicada droned. It was highly suspicious. “Well, the border can’t come soon enough.”
Carver’s quick flash of teeth in her peripheral vision proved he heard her barely uttered complaint. “We agree on more and more these days.”
She scowled. “Let’s not make a habit of it.”
His faint chuckle ended in a stifled cough. He cleared his throat, then drank from his water. Bellanca touched the amulet under her tunic. The eerie, blue-white glow crossed the lightweight linen, brighter than ever as the woods darkened. She wouldn’t mind passing unnoticed for once, but the Shard of Olympus made that next to impossible.
She pulled an extra fold of material over the medallion, dimming it. “What should we do with Arete and Zeph once we get close to Atlantapol? Only the richest of the rich and Eryx have horses. They’ll draw attention.”
Carver cocked his head at her, his brow creasing. “Don’t we want attention?”
“You mean now?” She looked at him in surprise. “Do it now ?”
“If by ‘it’ you mean our Power Bid for Atlantis…” He nodded. “We have all the elements.”
Her magic jumped at the idea of the Power Bid, and the Shard of Olympus grabbed on to the hard thump, tripling it. The woods momentarily brightened, this time because of her. With effort, she brought everything back to a low simmer. “But do I even know how to ignite magic? Persephone never said anything.” Learning the shard’s behavior a little more each time her magic stirred wasn’t a guarantee she could do whatever she wanted with it. And even more worrisome, it might be too powerful to control.
“The gods rarely provide instruction manuals.”
She sighed. “If only they’d be so smart. The things they want would happen a lot faster and more easily that way.”
Carver shrugged a little too fatalistically for her taste. Then his gaze snagged hers from across the path. “How about we concentrate on what we’re after for once?”
She frowned, not sure she understood. “You mean the throne?”
A wry smile curved his lips. “I meant peace and happiness. But the throne, too, for that matter.”
“Peace and happiness.” Slowly, she nodded. Every time they voiced the concept—no, the goal —it burrowed a little deeper into her heart. She’d never imagined the kind of life she was starting to imagine with Carver. Whether she hadn’t wanted it before she knew him or she simply hadn’t thought it was possible for her still wasn’t clear, but now that their future together had dropped anchor in her reality, she would fight for it with every breath she had left. “I think the peace part might depend on the throne.” Happiness would be up to them, though.
Carver turned back to the widening trail. “I think you’ll know what to do to ignite magic. It’ll come naturally. You could even try after we cross the border.”
She winced. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t get a trial run. “I can’t. The idea is to end Punishment in Zeus’s name and gain him a bunch of thankful worshippers. We need an audience. The whole thing has to be big.”
He chuckled. “You’re good at big.”
Looking over sharply, she muttered, “Not sure that’s a compliment.”
His soft laugh turned into a sudden cough. It hacked out of him in a great burst of noise, and she glanced around, nervous. The dryads had lost interest in them a while ago, and everything was too quiet, just like the calm before the storm.
A chill shuddered over her, and she gently coaxed her magic closer to the surface, warming her skin. Once she’d dried off, her power came back stronger than ever, especially with the Shard of Olympus doing exactly what they thought it would. A few hours in the saddle had given her time to get used to the shard and start to understand how it worked. Her usual fire and her new sun flare both came from deep within. She could use them separately or together now— she controlled what came out, when, and how strong. The Shard of Olympus amplified everything already inside her, but it wasn’t woven into the very fabric of her body like her own magic was. Its influence stayed external. If she had it in her possession, it would help her. If someone else had it, it would help them .
Carver drank more water and finally stopped coughing. “What about Eryx?” he rasped. “That son of a Cyclops will be harder to kill with magic. He’s good with a sword, and his ancestors were mostly water mages.”
An involuntary wince tightened her features before she forced them smooth again. They both knew how well she mixed with water, but what choice did she have? “A Magoi ruler takes a throne by might and magic. If I kill Eryx before he has magic, I’ll just be murdering a man. Granted—a horrible man. But it’s not a legitimate takeover.”
“That’s Thalyrian thinking,” Carver said. “And you’re just making the task harder by potentially making it a fair fight.”
“Shouldn’t it be?”
“No. We should kill the bastard and be done with it.”
Her shocked laughter landed somewhere between disbelief and worry. “You’re supposed to be a good influence on me!”
His grin—the first true one she’d seen since they swam into the owl cavern together—warmed her all over. “I’m supposed to advise you. My advice is to kill Eryx.”
She crushed a smile, mashing her lips together. “I think I might be a bad influence on you . These don’t sound like Carver-approved tactics.”
“My only tactic now is whatever brings me peace and happiness,” he said matter-of-factly. “With you.” That was matter of fact, too.
“Peace and happiness,” she echoed. Those words swelled in her chest again, taking up all the room.
“Look.” Carver nodded in front of them. “The woods are definitely thinning.”
“Finally.” She breathed a sigh of relief. Just a little farther and they’d be a whole lot safer. The sparser canopy let in more daylight and neutralized the brightness of her amulet, especially under her clothing. Dusk was on its way, but they’d be over the border well before nightfall.
They saw the soldiers just as they left the trees, and tension snapped her spine straighter than an arrow.
“What in the name of Zeus?” Carver reined in and held out a hand to stop her.
Her stomach sinking, Bellanca halted Arete next to Zeph and stared in shock. A large contingent of Eryx’s soldiers blocked the meadow. “They crossed the border.”
He cursed under his breath. “But not by far.”
“No… Just enough to block us and be able to run back across the river.” Was that Silas? And Dex? She glanced nervously at Carver. “That’s your whole guard unit.”
Carver’s gaze flicked over the blockade, his jaw stiffening. “And another one. I don’t understand.”
“What’s not to understand?” There were at least forty men, swords drawn and ready. Killing more soldiers was the last thing she wanted, but Eryx kept forcing her hand. “That son of a Cyclops must know about the shard, and he wants it before we get to Atlantapol.”
Carver cursed again. “But how?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged in anger. “Maybe he’s been torturing another seer while we were gone.” Squinting down the meadow, she asked, “Who’s the other unit leader?”
“Pavlos.” Carver’s nostrils flared. “Pav. These are Eryx’s two best guard units.” Turning to her, his voice suddenly even hoarser, he said, “Full of men I know.”
Her heartbeat faltered. “It might come down to them or us,” she warned in a low voice. “I might not have a choice.”
Nodding, he exhaled slowly. “Let’s do our best to make sure that doesn’t happen.” His eyes swept over the small army blocking them. “We don’t even know what they want yet, and there’s a slight chance we have allies. I did talk to Dex and Silas.” He gently prodded Zeph forward.
Bellanca nudged Arete to follow, very little hope in her heart that a peaceful resolution could ever follow that many armed men coming for them in a place like this. She was willing to try, though.
They stopped again partway down the meadow. “Silas. Pav,” Carver called out in greeting to the unit leaders. “What’s this about?” More jovially, he added, “As far as I know, Eryx released me from service, so I don’t think I’m late for duty.”
Despite Carver’s gaze landing firmly on Silas, the older man kept his silence, and it was Pav who answered. “Fishermen reported seeing two people on horseback traveling north toward Mount Olympus. We were sent to apprehend the riders upon their return to the border. Eryx wants you for questioning.”
Bellanca’s brows crept up her forehead. Questioning? More like torture and imprisonment.
She studied Pav more closely. Carver had mentioned him before, and she knew they’d sparred several times. She also knew that Pav was one of the few swordsmen who could actually keep up with him in the training yard.
Her gaze slid to Silas, then to Dex. They both carried tension in their shoulders, their expressions troubled. Neither would truly look at Carver, and her eyes narrowed. What were they doing? More importantly, whose side were they on? Carver chose to consider them friends, and they were about to find out if he was right or wrong about them.
“Is it against the king’s law to travel the island now?” Carver kept his tone light for the heavy question. They all knew there was no law. If people didn’t go north, it was for their own safety.
“Times are troubled,” Pav boomed back in a baritone that pushed all the way into the woods behind them. Cringing, Bellanca glanced over her shoulder. Gods, she just wanted to cross that river before the prickle on the back of her neck turned into a herd of brutal centaurs. “A Magoi hides among us. The king’s oracle was kidnapped. The king was viciously assaulted.”
Her head whipped back around. “The king viciously assaults on a daily basis.” Her blood heated, and the Shard of Olympus yanked at her magic. She drew in a steadying breath, pushing her power away from the greedy amulet and hoping it didn’t glow brighter under her tunic.
“Treasonous talk, likely from a traitor.” Pav crisply motioned for them to dismount. “Come with us, and the king will decide. Leave the horses.”
His back stiff and his expression stiffer, Carver turned to his friends. They finally looked back at him, regret and guilt so heavy in their eyes she could feel it from across the meadow. Conflict blazed off them like magic. Maybe she saw it because she’d been them. And maybe they wanted to help Carver but didn’t know how. Sticking your own neck out for someone was a rarity in Atlantis—and just one more thing she wanted to change. Rare, but not unheard of. Spiro had done it for her. She could do it for them.
She nudged Arete forward, drawing suspicious looks because as a woman, her place was obviously behind Carver. She strove for calm and kept her voice neutral. “Let me tell you a story, and then you can decide what to do. It might not be what your king wants, but it might be what you want for Atlantis. For your families. For yourselves and your futures.”
“Save your breath, woman.” Pav advanced a few steps, too, raising his sword in warning. “I have no patience for this.”
And Bellanca had no patience for a posturing man when she could annihilate him and his army in seconds.
Staring stonily back at Pav, she was forced to seriously debate how to best burn a hole through forty men to reach the river when Silas finally broke his silence.
“Maybe we should hear them out,” Silas called to the other unit leader. “So far, they haven’t done anything other than cross into creature territory. There’s no treason in that.”
Pav shook his head. “We take them in—as ordered.”
Silas moved away from his men, matching Pav’s position a few steps ahead. He sheathed his sword and turned to the other commander. “We have equal rank and an equal number of soldiers. I say we listen.”
“You were friends with this man. I understand that,” Pav ground out. “It doesn’t change our orders.”
“Maybe orders aren’t always right,” Dex said loudly. He stayed put, at the front of the group where he’d been with Silas. “And maybe the king isn’t, either.”
“Now that’s treason,” Pav growled, his gaze flashing dangerously over Silas’s whole unit.
“Men.” Carver dismounted and led Zeph deeper into the clearing. He spread his weaponless hands in a conciliatory gesture, but all Bellanca could think about was that he’d just made it a lot harder to gallop away—even if it was back into the woods—and she didn’t like it. Frowning, she stayed mounted but followed. Carver walked close enough to the solid wall of Eryx’s soldiers to speak rather than shout, and the sharp ends of too many blades pointed right at them. “We’re not your enemy. Let my wife speak, Pav. You don’t understand it yet, but you’re the traitors just by trying to stop her. She’s here for you —for all of you and your families and the island. The gods sent her to be your queen.”
Bellanca’s jaw dropped. She’d planned on revealing some truths to try to gain the men’s trust, but not that one.
Carver glanced at her over his shoulder, raising dark brows in challenge. His eyes almost sparkled, and he had the audacity to smile even as she scowled. “The Power Bid is on, princess.”