Chapter 30
Carver couldn’t wait to get home. If all went well, their lodgings wouldn’t be home for much longer, and while that was the plan, something about leaving the place where he and Bel had truly connected made his sentimental heart pang.
He glanced over at her as they crossed the valley that would bring them back to the northern outskirts of Atlantapol. They still had a final hill to climb and had decided to return in small groups so as not to attract attention. The injured would go first, and it would take the rest of the day to discreetly get everyone back into the city.
After the centaur attack, a small group of soldiers had found their horses and brought them back to the temporary camp. They’d set off the next morning, traveling south as fast as they could. Zeph and Arete carried the worst of the injured, and Bel and he walked.
He shot a look over his shoulder at their small army and their unit leaders. Pav hadn’t been hurt, and Silas walked on his own two feet without even showing a grimace. The stubborn goat had flat out refused to ride Zeph. The four soldiers who rode—two on each horse—hadn’t been in any shape to argue. Carver feared one of them wouldn’t make it back. Or if he did, they’d better restore magic to the island fast and put him straight into the hands of a Magoi healer.
“Almost there.” Bel nodded toward the big, rolling hill ahead of them.
“It feels like just hours ago that we were walking across this valley in the other direction, heading toward Athena’s cavern and trying to figure out how to animate the horses.”
“Hours. Days.” Bel wrinkled her nose. “It’s all blending together at this point.”
Carver shrugged. He agreed in a way. Time was racing, and yet he could pull out specific moments with utter clarity. Good, bad, terrifying… They all left their mark.
The salt breeze captured a hint of summer cherries, and Carver inhaled deeply. Now that Bel wasn’t hiding her magic anymore, her radiant hair and occasional flickers perfumed the air around her almost constantly. The aroma never failed to arouse him. “What’s the first thing you want to do when we get home?” he asked.
She groaned almost erotically. “A bath.”
Heat billowed through him. Suggestively, he lifted his brows. “Together?”
She slanted him a dubious look. “Considering the size of our bathtubs, we could probably each fit a leg in and kick each other, if you want.”
He chuckled. “How about a meal?”
“If you’re cooking,” she tossed back.
His smile widened. It was all too easy to picture them at their kitchen table. It was his favorite place in Atlantis. That table was where they’d come together daily, morning and evening, no matter what else was happening or what worries plagued them. Now, he could bend Bel over the wood, lift her skirts, and she could burn more handprints onto the surface.
“We’ll save that bath together for when we have the royal bathhouse,” he said a little huskily. A huge pool, and only them to occupy it. Perfect.
Barely taming her smile, Bel shook her head at him. “We might boil the water.”
He winked at her. “One can hope.”
Heat colored her cheeks, and she laughed as a stronger breeze blew over them, whipping some sparks from her hair. “At least I don’t have to worry about burning you anymore.”
“True.” Over the last few days, they’d carefully tested Bel’s usual fire and her new sun-flare magic on him, finally working up to full-blown blasts. Nothing had hurt him. Carver’s awareness of the mark they’d been calling a tattoo had grown and then stabilized into something he was conscious of but not bothered by. A constant prickle of magic lived in his chest now, right beneath the symbols. The odd tension felt like a breath held, or a cloud on the cusp of bursting, or a foot about to step off a precipice. It felt like potential.
The sea breeze turned noticeably colder. The sky darkened, and Carver looked up, frowning. Not a cloud in sight.
His eyes met Bel’s. She frowned back at him, and magic licked down her arms. “That’s a fell wind,” she muttered.
Carver stopped and turned. Zeph and Arete had already moved closer together, some instinct driving them to converge. The soldiers darted worried glances toward the sky, some drawing lightweight cloaks around their shoulders. Their footsteps slowed.
“Be on your guard,” Carver called out, unease blooming beneath his medallion-shaped tattoo. “Move the injured into the middle. Everyone else, draw your swords.” He did the same, unsheathing his weapon. His blade barely made a sound as it left the soft leather casing on his back, but it still rang like the start of battle in his ears.
Bel’s magic-bright gaze narrowed on the increasingly agitated sea. “You know who can affect the weather?”
Carver’s jaw hardened. “You think she’s coming?” He couldn’t help glancing north toward Mount Olympus.
“I have no idea.” She started walking again. “Let’s hope not.”
Carver followed, rolling his shoulders to try to relieve the growing tension there. “These men can’t fight a goddess.”
Bel darted him a somber, sidelong glance. “Neither can we.”
“You have the completed amulet now. Persephone said it would amplify your magic to almost godlike power.”
A cynical smile twisted her mouth. “The key word there is almost . Besides, because of Hera’s ultimatum, no matter what I do, I lose.”
Carver hated it but couldn’t argue with that. Fury roughened his voice. “Atlantis was supposed to be your gift, not your punishment.”
“What do you mean?” Confusion dented her brow.
The wind stayed cool, the sunlight unnaturally dampened, and Carver’s hand twitched on his sword. Wary of the unfriendly air around them, he lengthened his stride and moved faster across the uneven terrain. “Punishment was supposed to prevent the terrible power and resource gaps that sprang up between Magoi and Hoi Polloi in Thalyria. It mostly did, but something else happened here.”
“A huge gender-based divide.”
He nodded. “Zeus wanting to end Punishment now might be wholly self-interested, but he chose you to do it—a woman, and a nearly unparalleled Magoi who’s not hungry for power and riches or indiscriminately violent.”
Bel half grimaced. “I’m pretty violent.”
“I said indiscriminately .” He glanced behind them to make sure the soldiers were keeping up. “Think back to when I met you. You and Cat were the only two Magoi royals left in Thalyria who could’ve truly vied for control of the continent. Between the two of you, you could’ve left the land in ruins in the pursuit of power. Instead, Bellanca Tarva helped Catalia Fisa make a difference.”
Bel kept her wary eyes on the horizon. “And?”
Carver leaped the rivulet running toward the sea which marked the lowest point of the valley. Bel sprang across it just after him, and their boots squished in the muddy grass as they headed toward the hill that would take them back to Atlantapol. “Atlantis is a mission for you, but it’s also a reward. You served Zeus well in Thalyria, but you had no place deserving of you there. You’re meant to be a queen, so he gave you a kingdom.”
Bel visibly shivered, goose bumps popping out on her arms. “Maybe.” She burned a little brighter to chase away the chill. “He just didn’t count on Hera and her schemes.”
“No.” His mouth flattened. “He counted on gaining the gratitude of Atlantians to dominate in this War of Gods.”
“And will he?” The strong, resounding voice crashed over them just before Hera split the air above, appearing from out of nowhere.
Carver sucked in a breath, his heart kicking like a horse as the goddess dropped on a fast wind. She landed in a crouch, one hand on the ground, a wave of power flattening the grass. She straightened to her full height, and the wind suddenly died, leaving an echoing silence. The air grew thick and heavy with her presence. Just steps away, Hera stared at them, shimmering with magic, with stern beauty, with rage and determination.
Her cold eyes flicked over their small army, then she looked straight at Bellanca. “Decision time, Firebringer.”
Bel stared back. Carver’s heart pounded. Awe and fear rose in equal measures, but so did anger. He used to believe in Hera’s compassion, grateful for the strong and healthy family he’d always known. His parents’ happy marriage. His mother’s ease in childbirth. Now he looked at Hera and saw an imposter, and she’d failed Atlantians worst of all.
Fire snapped in Bel’s hair and slid down her arms. She burned, though her words came out ice-cold. “Hera. We meet again.”
The Shard of Olympus pulsed with glacial light, drawing the goddess’s hard, blue gaze. “Zeus risked bringing and keeping soulmates together. He must’ve counted on reaping a great reward, although I’m not sure any of us foresaw it playing out in Atlantis.”
“The Fates are tricky sometimes.” Flames engulfed Bel’s hands—so hot the air around her wavered.
“They answer to no one. I used to think it kept an eternal existence interesting.”
“And now?” Bel ground out.
“Now I make my own fate.” Hera’s frigid smile contrasted sharply with Bel’s searing heat. “Starting with Atlantis.”
Bel didn’t answer, and Carver looked over his shoulder. The soldiers huddled together, awestruck terror on every face.
He turned back around, dread hollowing his stomach.
The goddess stepped closer. “The two of you look so frightened. But why?” Flinty confidence glinted in her eyes. “The choice is simple. End Punishment in my name, save Cleito, and live happily in your castle. My offer is good.”
Heartache and fury bled across Bel’s features, mottling her pale face with splotches of red. “You could’ve had my sympathy, my support, and you squandered it with curses and threats, with kidnappings and not caring who you hurt.”
Hera’s countenance darkened, sucking the light from around her and leaving a shadow that nearly reached their feet. “Tread carefully, Firebringer. Think before you speak.”
“I have thought.” Bel lifted her chin. “My duty is to humanity. So is yours, but you seem to have forgotten it.”
Hera stiffened. Her face pinched, and she blinked rapidly, a low growl on her lips.
“You can still stop this from getting any worse.” Carver drew Hera’s attention, though her angry stare didn’t quite land on him at first. “You’re powerful. Revered. Having the highest throne on the mountaintop doesn’t change how many people worship you. Answering their prayers does, being there for them.”
The goddess’s gaze sharpened, her dark energy focusing on him. “This isn’t about humans; it’s about me. I’ll control my immortal life. I’ll decide what I do, with whom, and when. I’ll answer to no one.”
“That can never be true,” Bel shot back. “Hera—goddess of women and families. Don’t you answer to them ?”
Hera’s gaze went abruptly vacant again. A snarl and a shake of her head was her only response, but power and anger condensed around them, hanging in the air like a blanket of doom. In response, Bel gathered magic to her like a storm. Her amulet brightened, and Carver felt its primal force thump under his tattoo.
Foreboding filled him, battle so close its impending violence screamed a soundless warning in his ears. “Zeus is ever watchful. Over his worlds, over Mount Olympus, over mortals, monsters, and gods. Do you really want that burden? Capturing his throne might take more freedom from you than you gain.”
Hera’s eyes flicked over him, heavy with scorn. “Does the third son in line to a village farm lecture an immortal queen on the onus of ruling worlds?”
Carver snapped his mouth shut. Heat crawled up his neck, and he steadied his sword. “Then what would you do with the high throne of Mount Olympus?”
Hera stared down her long nose at him, her eyes cool slits. “I have no intention of answering to Zeus anymore, and I certainly don’t answer to you.”
Bel’s scorn equaled Hera’s as she bit out, “I don’t think you even answer to yourself.”
“Enough.” Rage rolled off Hera, terrifying in its intensity, freezing in its bitterness. “I have no use for that amulet. I have a use for you . But you’re not my only means to an end. If you won’t do what I want, Eryx will.” She lunged, closed her hand around the amulet, and yanked. The cord didn’t snap, and Bel stumbled forward. Righting herself, she grabbed the taut cord and yanked back.
Hera used her inhuman strength to pull Bel closer. Bel dug in her heels and rammed her burning palm into Hera’s face. The goddess hissed through clenched teeth but didn’t let go. Carver leaped in and drove the hilt of his sword down on Hera’s wrist. She didn’t react. The shard’s icy power glowed through her fingers. Hera pulled, Bel kept burning the skin off her face, and neither won the tug-of-war for the amulet. His heart hammering, he changed the angle of his sword and swung the blade at Hera’s arm just as the medallion let off a blinding pulse of power that threw all three of them back.
He landed flat out, his ears ringing. Shaking his head, he staggered upright. Bel did, too, the amulet still around her neck. Hera sprang to her feet, her face already half healed of the deep, flesh-demolishing burns Bel had inflicted. She conjured two snakes and flung one at each of them.
Carver whipped up his sword, slicing through the snake just before it could sink its fangs into him. Bel sun flared the one coming at her to ash. Hera threw two more snakes and the same thing happened. Fury contorting her features, she flicked her hand through the air. The magic wasn’t aimed at them, and Carver’s heart plummeted as he whirled.
Hera’s curse slammed into the front row of soldiers. Bones cracked and elongated. Muscle bulged and twisted. Men grew four legs, an equine back, hooves, and tails. Nauseatingly deformed for mere seconds, they rapidly transformed into centaurs, including Dex and Silas.
His eyes flared. “No.” His friends stared back at him in horror. Their upper bodies remained the same. They were them, but they were horse. Hera just stole their humanity from them.
“You took my herd,” the goddess fumed. “I can make a new one to guard my border, and maybe you’ll think twice about burning them alive this time.” She swiped her hand through the air again and remade more men into creatures. The injured tumbled off the horses and fell to the ground, standing again on four legs. Zeph and Arete shied away, snorting nervously, their heads high and the whites of their eyes showing.
Carver whipped back around. “Reverse it,” he growled.
Hera’s sharp gaze cut to him. “Convince your wife to do her duty.”
“My duty isn’t to you. It never was,” Bel said stiffly.
“In that case, my new herd awaits.” Hera lifted her hand to finish transforming the soldiers. Centaurs and men scattered in panic, and Bel jumped in front of her, countering Hera’s power with such a potent sun flare that she blocked the goddess’s spell and sent a wave of white-hot magic crashing over her. Hera pushed back, and Bel poured out more power. The shard lit up, bolstering Bel’s strength. Carver felt its ancient energy echo in his chest as magic oscillated between the two women. Neither gained the upper hand, and Bel’s face reddened, the strain obvious.
Carver watched, barely breathing, his blood roaring in his veins. Bel faltered, skidding back, and fear knifed through him. Hera’s curse pushed forward, and he stopped hesitating. He might not be Magoi, but Bel wasn’t alone in this fight. He switched his sword to his non-dominant hand, drew a dagger, and threw it at Hera.
Hera caught the blade a hairsbreadth from her chest and flung it aside. Her rage-filled eyes slashed over him just as Bel’s magic engulfed her. The firestorm threw Hera back, and she spun to the side, the inferno chasing her.
“Turn them back!” Bel stalked after Hera, flames pouring out of her.
Hera sped out of the way, her burns healing as she evaded Bel’s magic. Instead of retaliating, she shot a hand toward the sky, and an automaton harpy swooped down from the north. It held something in its talons—a small form in a tattered dress, pale legs dangling, red hair snapping on the wind.
Carver’s breath punched out. “Cleito.”
Bel twisted, looking at the sky. Her eyes widened, and her fire abruptly cut off. “No!” Turning back to Hera, she lowered her hands. The only part of her still on fire was her eyes. “You’re better than this. Somewhere deep inside, you must know that.”
Hera’s nostrils flared. “You know how to save her. Right now. Give me your binding word.”
Bel opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Her hands fisted at her sides.
Hera erased the last of Bel’s damage to her skin as the automaton harpy flew over their heads, its metal wings slicing the air. It continued out over the great basin, flying until they couldn’t hear the whistle of its sharp feathers anymore. Far away and tiny, Cleito swayed in its talons, high above the frothing waves.
“I told you exactly what would happen, Firebringer.” Hera lifted her hand, ready to signal the death of an innocent woman. “You should show gratitude that I’ve given you yet another chance.”
Bel tore her burning gaze from Cleito and met Hera’s icy stare. “You’re too hateful to gift with power.” She swallowed, her shoulders back and her head high. “Cleito knew it. She understood before I did.”
“So be it.” Hera snapped her fingers, and the automaton dropped Cleito from the sky.
Bel’s tight-lipped, strangled whimper broke Carver’s heart. He exhaled shakily. Cleito fell for so long that his heart had time to shatter all over again, both for the seer and for Bel. Bel didn’t make another sound. Her eyes never left the speck in the sky. Carver didn’t even see the splash. It was too far, too fast when it finally happened. His heart plummeted with Cleito, sinking to the depths.
“Since your own sister’s life wasn’t enough to convince you, how about this?” Hera pointed skyward again. “One by one? Or all of them together?” She smiled cruelly. “You see? I’m still giving you a choice.”
Dread raking over him, Carver looked up again. More automaton harpies appeared in the sky, hovering over them. They each held a child of Atlantis in their claws.
“You monster .” Shock-pale, shaking, Bel stared at Hera. “Humanity will never forgive you.”
Hera gave a sharp shake of her head. “Humanity won’t know what I don’t tell them.” She looked past them, squinting at the men she’d transformed. “And do you really think your centaur soldiers will go home now to tell the tale?” Flicking her hand, she pitilessly altered any soldier left in the valley with two legs. “They’ll live in exile in my woods—forever. Magical creatures are immortal. Unlike you ,” she said in a voice heavy with menace.
Carver watched, powerless, grief gouging a hole in his gut, as the last of their army turned into centaurs. Screaming and pleading dragged his attention back up, and his heart twisted violently. The soldiers were bad enough, but he physically ached for the children. He saw their stricken faces, could already see their shattered bodies. “The stolen children were never for you,” he said hoarsely. “They were only to use against us.”
“A precaution—and a means to an end.” Hera held out her hand for the amulet. “Hand it over, and they live.”
Bel stared in horror at the goddess who’d betrayed them all. “For Eryx and his ceremony? Because I refused?”
Hera nodded, and Bel’s eyes burned with hesitation and disgust. She didn’t move, maybe couldn’t, and Carver stepped closer. His sickened heartbeat thumped in his ears, beating like the doom of their mission. If Bel let this happen, she’d never be the same. Soldiers understood their safety wasn’t certain after putting on a uniform. Cleito knew exactly what would happen and accepted it. These children, though… Bel would hate herself until the end of days.
“Give her the amulet,” he said softly. “It’s okay.”
Bel’s breath shuddered loudly. “We’ll condemn worlds to Hera’s hate and vengeance. She’s gone mad. Can’t you see?”
He looked at her steadily, hoping his gaze conveyed the words he didn’t dare say aloud. We’ll find another way.
A tear welled up so fast it snuck past the fire in Bel’s eyes and spilled over, tracking down her cheek. Swallowing, she turned back to the goddess, her spine straight as a lance. “Put the children down—gently—and I’ll give you the amulet.”
Triumph flashed across Hera’s face. “Is that your binding word?”
Bel stiffened even more. Magic boiled in her eyes, and her expression hardened to volcanic rock as she made a more precise vow. “Lower the children safely and return the soldiers to themselves, and then I’ll set the amulet on the ground in front of me and let you walk away with it. I swear it.”
Hera scoffed. “You’re not in a position to bargain.”
“And you’re not in a position to test me.” Magic swelled, bathing Bel in fire. The grass beneath their feet dried and withered. The amulet pulsed with Olympian power, tugging at the marks on his chest.
Hera eyed the medallion, her covetous gaze reflecting the cool, blue-white light of the shard. Then, her features tightening, she waved an impatient hand toward the centaurs.
Carver glanced over his shoulder, searching for Dex, Silas, and Pav. He saw them all on two feet again almost instantly, along with everyone else. “It’s done.” Relief washed over him. “The soldiers are human again.”
Hera signaled to the automatons. At her command, they slowly glided to the ground and let go of the children on the windswept grass. The metal creatures flew off again as Carver heard one little boy cry out, “Papa!” A soldier ran to the boy, hugging him fiercely. Carver’s chest squeezed hard. He recognized the man as one of the gravely injured, but there were no signs of his wounds now. The transformation must’ve healed the suffering soldiers. More relief swept through him, though this was far from done.
The rest of the children huddled together, the soldiers surrounded them, and Carver turned back around.
“She kept her word,” he said. Bel hadn’t once taken her eyes off the goddess, her stare fire and wrath.
Bel’s lip curled in contempt as she took the medallion from around her neck. “You started an Olympianomachy. A War of Gods. Well, guess what, Hera? You’re at war with me now, too.” She tossed the necklace to the ground.
Hera’s nostrils flared. “Such a bold challenge. Careful, human. I can bless marriages.” Her angry, immortal stare scraped over them. “I can also curse them.”
Bel chuckled, a hard, dark sound full of loathing. “You have no power over us. Because we forsake you .”
Hera gasped. The aura of magic around her diminished. It blasted back an instant later, but Carver saw it. He understood.
“Hera, oath breaker,” he accused. Harshly, he added, “Queen of shattered vows.” This goddess needed an island to love her? What would happen if it hated her instead?
A sudden pallor grayed Hera’s skin. She darted in and reached for the amulet, missing it at first. Snarling, she grabbed it on the second try, and with a last, furious glare at them, leaped into the sky.
A crack rang out, and in seconds, the goddess disappeared the way she’d arrived.