Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
The palace corridors had the air of calm after an apocalyptic storm. Peaceful and quiet.
Augustus didn’t trust it. It was as if they’d lost the wind, and now they were stranded at sea with depleting supplies. And in this case, what they were running out of wasn’t food or water. It was time.
The entire world had shifted while he and Selene slept aboard the Entia. They’d gone to sleep in each other’s arms, content and rapturous.
Then they woke to the news. Honestly, Augustus didn’t give a fuck about the dead council.
Every minute they stayed here was another step closer to the end.
To the line of demarcation. And Selene in Cassia’s clothes, soaked in his mother’s scent, only reminded him that he should have acted sooner.
In giving Selene the time she wanted, he’d been sitting on a prophecy that threatened everything.
Prophecies didn’t wait. He was starting to think fate didn’t, either.
Augustus held tight to Selene’s hand as they wound swiftly through the palace corridors, banking the dread filling his chest. Mentally listing everything still to be done until the Entia was ready. They’d have to sail with a minimal crew—that was fine. They’d figure it out on the way.
What mattered was getting Selene out of here. On the open sea, aboard the Entia, she would be within reach. At least there, he would have his footing again. His confidence. The control that captaining a ship offered.
He would not lose her.
“I could start with the kitchens.”
Selene’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he realized she’d been talking for a while.
“Sorry?” he said. “What were you saying?”
She squeezed his hand. “The people are probably starting to panic. No one’s working.” She motioned to the empty corridor. “Haven’t you noticed?”
Augustus looked ahead, then back. “I suppose we’re missing a roaming soldier or two.”
Or all of them, actually. Where was everyone?
Selene’s mouth drew into a line. “Anyway, the servants, the guards…they keep the palace running. I want to talk to everyone. If they trust Dimitrios, if they stay, everything will fall back into place.”
He was plotting their escape, and she was talking about peacekeeping with the help? Did she have no sense of self-preservation? Someone assassinated the entire council and tried to kill Dimitrios. They might have tried getting to her, too, had she been around.
“And Dimitrios will need names for a replacement council,” Selene continued, staring ahead. “People he can trust.”
Augustus slowed her to a stop and faced her. Once he had both of her hands, he said, “I love that you want to help, but let’s be honest. There’s a much bigger problem here. Nothing you’re planning will change one simple fact: Dimitrios is not the king.”
“Not yet.”
He frowned. One didn’t have to be fluent in the local politics to understand that without a governing body, council or otherwise, Dimitrios would have to take that crown with bloody hands from those seeing an opportunity to claim it.
One in particular might finally raise her head. “This is a perfect opportunity for Alexandra to make an appearance,” he said.
Selene stared blindly at their clasped hands. “I hope not.”
Augustus didn’t recognize the tone she used. At the very least, he hadn’t heard it since their first days together. She spoke like a slave, and he refused to let her go backward. She’d come too fucking far.
He knuckled her chin up. “We’ve buried too many people fighting for someone else’s crown. We’ve given enough.”
Selene nodded, but the moment her gaze drifted, he knew she hadn’t heard a word.
“I’m going to send word to Lili,” he said firmly. “We’re leaving as soon as possible.”
“Augustus, we—”
“Every time we fight for someone else’s cause, we lose something. You lost your mother. I lost mine. Who’s next, Selene?”
Selene sank back and released his hands. “Maybe this isn’t about kings and kingdoms. Maybe it’s about not running so you can avoid doing the right thing.”
A man cleared his throat nearby.
Augustus clapped his mouth shut. He straightened to his full height, and his body felt as if it were buried in sand as he turned toward the sound. “Blaze.”
Blaze looked between them. “I hope I’m interrupting something.”
“No,” Selene said, just as Augustus said, “Yes. Go away.”
Blaze, lips slanted in a grin, met Augustus’s glower with increasing delight. “You’re quite growly around me these days, Augustus. Why is that?”
“As much as I’d love to get into the complexities of my—”
Selene groaned, then muttered, “Under Idon’s Eye.” She scrubbed color back into her face. “This is getting us nowhere. I just want to find Dimitrios and find out exactly what happened.”
Blaze neared her, and something primal took over Augustus. He cut into Blaze’s path and shot a look that was the Ranger’s only warning. No one—not even Blaze—was going near Selene until she was safely out of this fucking country.
A dash of light left Blaze’s eyes. “I only meant to share the gossip with our girl.”
Pain lanced through his jaw. “Selene isn’t our anything.”
“You’re right,” Selene shot from his back. “Not yours either, if you keep this up.” She pushed Augustus aside, her eyes aflame. “You were saying, Blaze?”
“Only that the entire city is talking about it. I’ve never seen so much excitement over five dead men.”
“Don’t you mean six?” Selene asked.
Five councilmen and one inquisitor—six. At least, that’s what they’d heard.
Selene and Blaze started for Dimitrios’s chambers together, the ranger saying, “The councilmen are dead. They didn’t stand a chance.”
Augustus managed to stay a step behind. Less. He hoped Blaze felt that breath down his neck. “What about the inquisitor?”
“The old man lived,” Blaze said, sparing a quick glance. “However, that miracle will likely be short-lived. No one thought he’d last the night.”
“Why?” Selene asked.
“He was stabbed and dropped over a railing. He’s been unconscious ever since.”
Selene rocked to a stop and grabbed Blaze’s arm. “But, he’s alive?”
Augustus hated to hear the hope in her voice. If the inquisitor lived, Dimitrios would still have a chance to get his crown the right way. But the injuries sounded fatal.
Blaze was confirming the situation, when the new Head of House climbed out of the nearby staircase, and brought their entire conversation to a screeching halt.
Milonia Dardana was stunning. Augustus wouldn’t dare stray, but a man would have to be blind not to notice. Even Blaze, who had no interest whatsoever in women, stumbled in her presence.
Milonia greeted Selene with a wide smile, and the two of them strolled ahead, arms linked, heads bent together. He couldn’t make out much, but knew Selene was plotting the same nonsense as before and enlisting Milonia’s help.
Augustus stopped caring as soon as he entered Dimitrios’s chambers.
He wasn’t completely surprised to find Oskar and two other Blades standing in attendance.
Nor was he shocked at Dimitrios’s dark circles and unshaven face.
Members of the Perean Guard were a no-brainer—the heir to the throne was nearly killed.
Then there was Nikolas Contas, commander and close friend of Dimitrios. Right there on the terrace with a fucking dead man.
Months—months—Augustus had put his total trust into that man, only to find out he’d been murdering members of his crew, their friends, on Orestis Vidalatos’s orders. He got as far as to lock Augustus and Selene up in a room, while he prepared to ship them off to their death.
Augustus stormed toward the terrace. Distantly, as if beyond several plates of glass, Selene shouted something completely unintelligible. Oskar, too, spoke words with no meaning.
Lazaros’s eyes widened, and his hands were barely raised in defense before Augustus’s fist landed with a crack.
Dimitrios had felt several steps behind everything today, but when Milonia entered the room with the others, it was as if a hand reached into his body and yanked his soul into place.
Back into the rooms that once belonged to the crown prince, Angelos.
A spacious room with tall, fluted columns lining the walls, large pots lush with fragrant flowers, and reclining couches with plush cushions under all the bay-facing windows.
Milonia wore a chiton in jewel-toned blue, which brought out her skin’s rich honey tan. The khol lining her almond-shaped eyes enhanced their dark golden color. She paused in the open doorway and gave him a respectful nod, her gentle smile a lure that put an extra beat in his heart.
She had to stop looking at him like that. Otherwise, he’d start asking questions. Like, who was she? What did she do in her free time? Where could he find her if— No. Avoid her. Avoid her at all costs.
Thankfully, Augustus swept by like a furious wind, breaking his spell. The blasted pirate stormed the balcony and had Lazaros bent over the marble balustrade, pummeling him.
Nikolas was the only one who had the wherewithal to intervene. The commander hauled Augustus back by the shoulder and stepped between the two men with hands raised. “Back off, Triarius. Now.”
Lazaros spat blood from his mouth and rubbed his bruised jaw. “It’s all right. It was well deserved.”
Augustus rushed up against the wall of Nikolas’s body, pulling free the dagger at his side.
“Slitting your throat would be well deserved, you fucking bastard. A punch was only to delay your death long enough to let you look into my eyes before Idon drags your bloody carcass across the blazing stones of Hadate.”
Oskar stepped in behind Augustus with his two acolytes close behind. “If anyone’s taking his life, it’ll be me. It was my man he murdered, my gut that took his knife, and I’m not quite done hearing what he has to say.”
“Augustus.” Selene strode up to Augustus’s side, though she kept both eyes on Lazaros. “Come inside. Take a breath.”