Chapter 34
Carver turned in time to watch Eryx suffer through his own annihilation. Bel was blazing fury and fiery vengeance, but she was so much more. He already loved her more than anything, but he loved her even more as he watched her mercilessly punish a man who’d lived for cruelty and power.
Magic poured from her, almost blinding and so hot he felt it roll over him halfway across the square. Eryx disintegrated to dust, and she blew him over the harbor wall. A primal smile lifted Carver’s mouth. She’d always been an-eye-for-an-eye type of woman, and he hoped everyone who’d ever lost someone at Eryx’s hands felt her retribution thump deep in their hearts right now.
Still watching her—unable to tear his stare away—Carver raised his sword and yelled, “Queen Bellanca Atlantis!” He punched his sword high into the air. “Queen Bellanca Atlantis!” This time the crowd joined him, picking up the cheer.
Bel turned. Locking eyes with him, she pointed a flame-licked hand. “King Carver Atlantis!” Carver’s breath caught, his heart expanding fiercely. With three little words, she gave him an equal role, maybe not in this victory, but in their future. And now, Atlantians cheered for them both.
Grinning, he walked back toward the altar, toward their friends, toward a new life for them all. He already saw roles for many of their friends and allies—if they wanted them. Dex, the royal healer. Silas, captain of the royal guard. Pav, keeper of the peace in Atlantis. They’d have to send out soldiers to the west and southwest of the island to spread the news to the less populated farming areas. Magoi could also be springing into existence there, confused and scared.
They reached the altar together, and he gripped Bel’s fiery hand. As one, they held their arms aloft, and the crowd went wild.
“This is our home,” she said in awe. “Our kingdom.”
“These are our people.” He looked at her. “You took care of them well.”
She squeezed his fingers. “So did you.” There was no mistaking the pride in her eyes. It filled his soul.
Carver lowered his head and kissed her. Their people should know they were that kind of king and queen.
Tremendous cheering erupted, and it was godsdamned satisfying after everything they’d been through. Reluctantly, he ended the kiss and looked around, his eyes skating over the blood-scorched marble.
He nodded toward the stain that had been the King of Atlantis. “Well done.”
“He deserved it. I just wish I could do the same to Hera.” Her gaze shifted to the goddess’s deserted temple with its broken column and shattered stairs.
“I’d like to see you try,” hissed a fury-filled voice above them.
Hera landed on the high wall like a hammer, cracking the stone. Carver’s heart slammed against his ribs. Bel sucked in a breath, tensing beside him. A collective gasp went through the crowd, then suddenly, utter silence blanketed the square like a shroud.
Then the shadows fell.
Bel’s head snapped up at the same time as his. Dozens of metal harpies flew over the temple square. They each held huge boulders in their claws. Carver’s eyes widened as a set of talons opened, and a first stone hurtled toward the ground.
“Take cover!” Bel shouted.
The boulder smashed into the roof of Zeus’s temple, rolling off it to hit the Atlantians on the stairs.
The sickening crack of stone and bones echoed inside Carver. “What are you doing?” he shouted at Hera.
The goddess shrugged. “If I can’t have Atlantis, no one will. It’s over here. You saw to that yourselves.”
Horror filled him as Atlantians tried to run—to the temples, out of the square—but there were too many people, all pressing and shoving, and they barely moved. Another automaton loosed a huge rock right over the center of the crowd, and Bel threw her hands up and sun flared it until only dust and stone bits rained down.
She whirled on Hera, fury blazing from her. “You have no friends, no allies, so you create a brainless, emotionless army and send it to kill innocent people? What is wrong with you?” she snarled.
Another, far bigger boulder plunged toward the square, and Bel hit it hard with her magic, the strain draining her of color and power as her sun flare shattered it into smaller pieces that still fell into the crowd. Atlantians screamed and dove for whatever cover they could find. Howls of pain rang out, and panicked people stampeded toward the temples. The strong started making it to the buildings with their rooms and sanctuaries underneath the thick, sturdy marble, but the older, the weaker, the smaller… They barely made any progress.
Carver’s stomach plummeted as all the metal harpies converged over the square, and suddenly, it wasn’t just one stone at a time, it was dozens falling everywhere.
“Find shelter!” he cried as Bel let out a wide burst of white-hot magic, breaking up most of the boulders that could crush dozens at a time. Smaller rocks showered down. Carver narrowly avoided one, then glanced fearfully toward the altar. Lilika, Dimitri, Spiro, and Theophania had already crammed themselves underneath the marble tabletop and huddled together, rocks falling around them.
Hera stalked toward Bel, and Carver took off at a sprint. Bel’s focus was on the sky as she broke up boulder after boulder before they could utterly crush and destroy. Bel knew Hera was coming for her, but she was choosing to save as many Atlantians as she could as they fled the square. So Carver would save Bel. He jumped between her and the vengeful goddess.
Hera slowed, eyeing him. “Are you too stupid to fear?”
He lifted his sword, despite suspecting that his words could do a lot more damage to Hera than his steel blade. “Are you too bitter to realize you’re hurting people your very name promises to protect? Hera . It means ‘protectress’ in the old language. Where’s that goddess?” he growled.
“I’ll do my duty to humanity better without Zeus in the way.”
“You haven’t done your duty at all lately,” he bit out accusingly. “Who have you protected? The women of Atlantis? The children?”
Staring straight ahead, her expression abruptly empty, she ground out, “I’ve killed many for less than your insults.”
Carver cocked his head, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, and she didn’t seem to detect the difference. Was something wrong with her vision? Seeming suddenly wary, Hera stood oddly still, her icy gaze still on him but not quite focused, and he remembered how she’d missed her first grab at the amulet after he and Bel had violently forsaken her. Reminding Hera of who she really was—or was supposed to be— did weaken her. And not only that, but it damaged her eyesight.
He darted a look at Bel to see if she noticed, but she had her back to them and both her arms up as she sun flared without cease. Boulders dropped like meteorites, and she shattered them mid-fall. Chunks of rock plummeted to the square, endangering anyone who still struggled to leave. Stragglers tried to reach Apollo’s temple. There were healers there. There was a roof and shelter from the barrage.
There was Dex with the amulet.
Carver cursed. Bel would need that soon. Continuous magic always took its toll on her. She had immense power and huge reserves, not to mention the determination of twenty, but she was one person against an army . Already, her magic didn’t reach as high or burn as hot, and bigger chunks of rock crashed down, further shattering the broken paving of the square, hitting roofs hard, and shearing corners off temples.
A stone Bel missed smashed down just steps from him, shaking the ground, and Carver swung back to Hera, his heart in his throat. She smiled harshly, her cold, hard stare as sharp as blades again. Reminding her of her sacred duty had slowed her down for mere seconds. And hadn’t stopped the automatons at all.
“This shouldn’t be your battleground.” The tattoo prickled his skin, maybe the reverberation of intense magic all around. “Go have your war with Zeus but leave humans out of it.”
“Humans determine it.”
“And you’ve lost Atlantis! Can’t you see?” He swept his free hand out. Far too many bodies lay in the square, limbs at odd angles and stone dust and blood mixing into pasty smears. Almost everyone else had cleared out, many limping and dragging others who couldn’t walk, and the automatons bombarded the temples now, especially Zeus’s and Apollo’s. “Who will love you after this? Who will worship you and be grateful now?”
“No one here will love Zeus, either. This is just the beginning, and with Atlantis gone and its people dead, there’ll only be Thalyria left as a battleground. My cult is strong there.”
Ice slid through Carver’s veins. “This is an entire kingdom. You’d kill everyone ?”
Hera didn’t even pale beneath her anger-flushed skin. Her gaze darted over her destruction, staying focused this time as she lifted her chin. “You will not sway me, human.”
His back stiffened. Maybe not, but he could try. “Be stronger than the hurt and rage that haunt you.” He all-too-intimately understood the havoc just one deep betrayal could wreak on a heart and mind, let alone hundreds over the course of lifetimes. “Call off your army, and humanity will forgive you.” Eventually.
Her mouth flattened. “It’s too late.”
“Too late for whom? You, or Atlantis?”
Hera didn’t answer, and Bel suddenly staggered into his peripheral vision. She half destroyed one more boulder that landed hard on Athena’s rooftop, then she turned to him, and dread punched into Carver. Drained of all color, not a spark on her and heartbreak flooding her eyes, she fell.
“Bel!” He sprang toward her as the final stragglers stumbled up Apollo’s stairs, dragging injured Atlantians with them. Something hot and powerful stirred in his chest as he bent, scooped Bel up, and raced her toward the altar, dodging falling rocks and speeding over rough and jagged ground. Spiro opened his arms, and he half threw Bel into them, boulders still pounding down. Spiro started pulling Bel under the tabletop with him when her eyes snapped open, and she grabbed Carver’s wrist, holding on hard.
“You’re my shard.” Whipping her head around, she aimed her free hand at Hera just as a current rushed through him from his chest to his arm. A scorching pulse of magic poured from Bel’s fingers. White-hot incineration and deafening heat thundered toward Hera and blew a hole straight through her abdomen, letting in bright daylight from behind. Hera’s eyes shot wide. Pain crashed over her features. Her footsteps scraped backward as she clutched her middle, her strangled gasp sucking air across the temple square like a sudden wind.
Carver’s jaw dropped. “Again!” He consciously pushed whatever lived in his tattoo toward Bel, and she blasted Hera a second time, gouging a bigger hole.
The metal harpies stopped dropping stones as Hera lost focus. Reeling, the goddess shot off a burst of glacial magic to try to freeze Bel’s heat, but her strike was off target, and her daggerlike chips of ice hit a big, upturned piece of marble to the side.
“She can’t see,” Carver said urgently. “There’s something wrong with her eyes, but it only lasts a second. Hit her again before she finds us!”
Still gripping his wrist, Bel let off a hasty surge of magic and hit Hera’s shoulder before the goddess turned. Hera’s skin disappeared, leaving oozing flesh around a gaping wound. She staggered, hissing through her teeth and violently shaking her head.
Carver’s heart hammered. They were about to kill her. They could . They were going to end Hera and avenge their island. They were god killers together, soulmates joined.
“Her head this time!” he said just as Hera banged a hand against her temple. Her eyes sharpened and landed on them just as the current rushed through him again, heat exploded from Bel’s hand, and their sun-flare fire bolt raced toward Hera’s head.
Zeus popped into the space directly in front of Hera. He took the hit in the upper chest and lurched back. It didn’t go all the way through him, but he burned.
Bel let go of Carver’s wrist. “Oh my gods.” Blanching, she scooted backward under the altar, crowding into her friends. Carver scuttled back with her, panic icing his veins.
Fire sizzled in Zeus’s beard. Huge, stern, radiating power, he was unmistakable. Too striking not to recognize. Too frightening not to shrink from. Too awe-inspiring not to both dread and respect. A god to build or end worlds. His lightning-hot eyes flashed, blinding white their only color. Thunder rumbled. He glared at them and gave one awful shake of his head. Carver understood instantly. Hera might be causing terrible damage, but he did not want her dead.
Carver swallowed roughly. Would Zeus’s next punishment be theirs now? Had they saved Atlantis only to doom it again?
Zeus stayed in front of Hera, guarding her as she healed. His magic-heavy gaze bored into them, leaving a prickling sting on Carver’s skin. His tattoo hummed, seeming to soak up residual magic. He knew he couldn’t access it, but Bel could—if they survived.
Zeus’s wound disappeared, and he crossed his arms, looking them over with what could’ve been great interest or deep, frightening concern. “The power of soulmates.” Carver’s insides hollowed out as the king of gods spoke directly to them, his voice deep and weathered like eons of erosion over endless canyons. His glowing eyes narrowed. “Something to be wary of, indeed.”
Carver inhaled shakily, his lungs screaming for air. A dry swallow clicked in Bel’s throat. Zeus stared at them, fully healed. Behind him, Hera must’ve somewhat healed, too, because she whirled and ran, leaping for the sky.
Zeus whipped around and caught her by the ankle, yanking her back down. He hauled her close, chest to chest, and Hera gasped, struggling against him. “You have explaining to do,” he growled.
“I owe you nothing!” Her eyes blazed with anger and magic, but she couldn’t tear herself free. Her wounds healed slower than Zeus’s and slower than they had the last time they’d fought Hera, proving everything Persephone had told them about worship and the power of the gods. Right now, all around her, Hera was reviled , and her strength visibly suffered for it.
“You owe Atlantis,” Zeus rumbled like a storm. “Did it rise again only to fall? How much more damage would you have caused? Floods? Fires? Poison? Plagues?” Still gripping Hera by the arm, he looked up and shot lightning bolts into the sky, picking off the circling automatons. Thunderclaps shook the island, and the metal harpies exploded, their shimmering remnants darkening the sky.
Hera snarled in outrage as her last automaton shattered before her eyes. “I will have my throne!” Snakes slithered down her arms. Her hands turned into heavy lion paws, and she twisted in Zeus’s grasp and swiped at him with vicious claws.
He dodged her strike, but the serpent bit him. Hissing, he ground out, “You already have a throne. And those snakes aren’t allowed on the mortal plane anymore. You know that.”
“I’ll have your throne! And end hers!” In a flash of fury, she launched an arrow-fast snake at Bel. Bel’s magic spluttered, still drained, and Carver threw himself in front of her before he even knew he moved. The serpent clamped down on his neck, and agony shot from its fangs. He gasped as poison raced through his blood and burned through his veins.
“No! Carver!” Bel caught him as he slumped to the side, and Zeus dropped a ring of lightning bolts around Hera with a hot boom that rattled the island. Hera slashed at the crackling cage, ripping a tear in it with her lion claws as Carver groaned, pain already slithering its way into every limb. Her hands shaking, Bel lowered him to the ground. He stared up at her, fear and loss churning up instant nausea as death took a giant step toward him, its shadow already darkening his eyes.
The snake unlatched, dropping beside him. It coiled to strike again, and Spiro slammed his huge fist down, pinning the head. “Knife!” he yelled.
Theophania crawled forward with the knife she’d used to untie her daughter and sawed through the serpent’s neck. They both darted back under the tabletop, crowding in with Dimitri and Lilika again.
Carver started to shiver, chilled to the bone. How could searing torment be so cold? Bel leaned over him and grasped his face in her hands. She blurred, but it didn’t matter. He knew her by heart. Every contour. Every freckle. Besides, he couldn’t stand the terror in her eyes coming into any sharper focus. It already ripped out his heart.
“No.” She gripped him hard, as if she could anchor him to life. “Carver, you idiot. Why?”
Why? He’d have laughed if he could. He never thought he’d leave her this way, or today. He thought they’d have more time.
Bel’s face twisted. She knew why. Tears stung his eyes. If there’d been time, maybe they could’ve produced magic together again. But the snake came lightning fast, and he hadn’t had a blade. He’d dropped his sword to pick up Bel and run her toward the altar. She’d been the only thing he wanted in his hands.
The intense, burning pain started to fade, numbness sliding into its place. His voice weak, rasping, he whispered, “I love you.”
Her chin trembled. “Carver…” Tears spilled from her eyes. She didn’t try to hide them or burn them away. They flowed. “Don’t leave me. We’re not supposed to do this alone.”
His arm like lead, he reached up and touched her cheek. He barely felt the contact before his hand fell, too heavy to hold up. “Look for me in the Underworld.”
She paled even more, then her head snapped up. “Dex!” she screamed across the square, her yell mixing with Hera’s snarling and the droning buzz of the lightning cage. “Dex!” Bel looked at him again, frantically squeezing his hand. “He’ll come with the shard. He’ll heal you.”
Carver shook his head—or thought he did. “No time. And he’ll never hear you.” His words slowed, his mouth as heavy as the rest of him. “He’s deep…inside the temple. The Underworld… Bel. I’ll wait for you there.”
His heart shattered into a million specks of sand, everything he’d envisioned for them bombarding it at once. He’d wait for her, but it wouldn’t be the same. Her tears fell on his face, watering his heartbreak. His throat thick, his chest aching, he mourned the life they’d barely begun. He wasn’t ready for the afterlife. No blue skies, no sea breeze or salt air. No chance for children. Grief flooded him, his too-slow pulse pumping it through his veins.
Letting go of his hand, Bel lurched to her feet. “Zeus!” Carver turned his head to see the god watching them while Hera worked to shred the prison her husband had slammed down around her and her rage. Zeus ignored her progress, his focus on them. “You owe me!” Bel yelled. “I did all this for you . I left my home. I fought Hera. I lost my sister. Two sisters! For you !” Anger and fear made her burn again, her unsteady flames brightening the dimness clouding his eyes.
Carver smiled weakly. He’d always loved her burning hair. So red, so hot, so wild—just like Bel.
“Heal him!” she cried. “Heal him or I swear to all the gods that aren’t you that this island will forsake you, too.”
“Mortals don’t make demands of gods.” Zeus darted a look at Hera, the bright orbs of his eyes pinching as he took in her severely tattered cage. He repaired the damage, and Hera snarled in frustration, doubling her efforts to claw through the lightning bars. With one eye still on his wife, Zeus said, “Threats are even worse. I could end you right here.”
“You could, but you won’t,” Bel shot back. “Because you’ve demanded of me, and I answered . I did everything you asked. Now, I ask one thing of you. Heal him.”
Zeus examined them both, his lightning-bright eyes too penetrating to look at straight on. Carver swallowed painfully. The gods did as they pleased—and what served them—and he and Bel had already given Zeus everything he needed from them.
“Olympians are safer without living soulmates joined in one place. Especially when one’s a Magoi of your strength.” Zeus’s words tolled a death knell in his ears, and Carver exhaled the last of his hope, probably one of his last breaths, as Bel let out a stifled moan and dropped beside him again, new tears bursting in her eyes. “But I agree that you’ve served me well. Apollo!” Zeus called out loudly, his voice booming across worlds.
Bel sucked in a breath, and somewhere deep inside Carver’s failing consciousness and body, hope surged. He turned his head as what had to be the most stunning being in existence suddenly walked out of thin air in a golden ring of light.
“Father.” Zeus’s son and the god of healing dipped his blond-curled head in respect. “Hera.” His flawless brows rose.
“Here!” Bel called hoarsely. “Here! Please!”
Apollo looked over, and Carver’s heart stopped before another poisoned beat thudded hard. The magnificence. The allure. He barely breathed, the air he took in too shallow to nourish his lungs. Swallowing, he tore his gaze from the intensity of Apollo and turned back to Bel. Apollo might be beauty incarnate, music and poetry in physical form, but it was Bel who he wanted to behold.
The god of healing approached and squatted beside him, inspecting the wound. His clear blue eyes narrowed as he laid strong, warm fingers on Carver’s neck and gently squeezed out a pearl of venom. He held the blood-tinged drop of poison up to the sunlight on his fingertip, turning it back and forth and watching it roll.
“The Olympian viper.” His sculpted lips pulled into a frown. “Hera’s specialty. These vipers almost did away with Heracles, too.”
“Can you help him?” Bel’s voice quavered, and she rolled her lips in, pressing hard to hold back tears.
Apollo scooped Carver up as if he weighed nothing and placed him on the altar. Carver barely felt the god’s arms or the movement as he went from the ground to the tabletop. His vision darkened even more, and he sought Bel’s gaze. She would be his light, whether he made it through this darkness or not. Their eyes met, and hers turned hard.
“No. You fight ,” she growled. “Fight for your life, or I’ll kill you myself.”
Did he smile? He might’ve. He loved her so.
“You’d better dredge up some magic and cover us while I try to heal him, Firebringer.” Apollo shot a warning look at Bel. “Because this is going to take some time, and I know my father. He’s about to give Hera the battle she’s been asking for.”
Bel’s nostrils flared. Nodding stiffly, she moved to stand in front of them, a barrier between Zeus and Hera and the people at the altar, both above and below.
Beyond Bel, Hera took a vicious swipe at what was left of her cage and sprang free with a yell. Zeus whirled, thunder rumbling from him. Apollo moved toward Carver’s head, blocking his view as the healer god lifted glowing hands. “This venom is some of the worst poison from the ancient worlds.” His golden brows drawing together, he warned, “Brace yourself.”
Carver tensed, and not only because of Apollo’s frightening warning. Terror gripped him. His throat was closing over. He couldn’t swallow. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. Hera’s vicious battle cry was the last thing he heard before Apollo placed his hands on his skin and utter agony tore through him.