Chapter Eleven
Thalia
If Sebastian’s hand slid to her leg one more time, Thalia was going to cut it off with her butter knife—the blunt edge of the butter knife.
Who did this man think he was? After everything that went on between them…
how it ended…he should run in the opposite direction whenever she was near for fear a bloodbath might ensue.
“I don’t think Amalia would appreciate the way you are blatantly disrespecting her, Sebastian.” Thalia took his hand and removed it from her thigh, placing it with a loud thump on the table.
“Amalia’s temper does not scare me, Lia,” he retorted, leaning back in his chair before glancing quickly over at the commander.
The corner of his eye twitched and Thalia couldn’t blame the man.
Amalia looked harmless most of the time, the freckles bridged across her nose making her look years younger than she was, but she was a terrifying, vindictive woman.
“Was it helpful, Sebastian, that you called us by the same nickname?”
“My Lia, that name is reserved only for you.” Sebastian’s fingers grazed her cheek and it made her stomach turn. That was it—this man was dead, ally or not.
Thalia clutched her fork firm, ready to plant it directly into his side when a familiar voice stopped her—just not the one she expected.
“When a woman forcibly removes your hand from her body, it usually means she does not wish to be touched again.” Dafne.
She wasn’t expected to arrive until the morning, yet there she was with a small dagger pointed right into the back of Sebastian’s neck.
The lieutenant tensed, gritting his teeth together.
A whistle sounded from across the table, where Dimitris leaned back in his chair, eyes wide, clapping. Were all men utter fools?
“It’s alright, sister. I have it handled,” Thalia snapped, trying to halt whatever fury was flowing in those ruby eyes of Dafne. Her sister was always violent, dramatic even, but never protective.
They were supposed to be solidifying their allyship with the soldiers of Skiatha, not threatening them. Alexander would have her head if she was the reason the threads of kinship unraveled, especially over this man.
“I don’t know, I’m quite interested to see what she does,” Dimitris said from across the table. Someone needed to get that man a muzzle.
“No one asked for your opinion, fengaráki,” Thalia hissed, now standing. If she had to wrap her arms around Dafne and drag her away kicking and screaming, she would.
It was not her sister’s place to interfere in—well, Thalia wasn’t sure what to call it. Retribution? Revenge? The men that haunted her were already killed, thanks to the impulsive antics of Dimitris on Lesathos. Sebastian was merely an inconvenience, one that she had dealt with many times before.
A throat cleared in the hall, echoing loud enough to silence everyone. “If you wish to challenge Sebastian, girl, then go ahead, otherwise remove your weapon before I am forced to deal with you like anyone else who doesn’t abide by our laws.” Fucking Amalia.
Narrowed ruby eyes flashed with a reckless sparkle. “As you wish. I ch—”
“No. You do not.” Thalia cut her sister off, standing and grabbing Dafne by the wrist, voice lowering to a gritty whisper. “What do you think you’re doing, Dafne?” Why was she off the ship? And if she was here, where in Aidesian was Cal? Probably snoring in his chambers, knowing the man.
“What am I doing? What are you doing, Thalia? Were you honestly going to let a man treat you like that?” Dafne’s breathing was raspy, her face drawn, sunken blue and purple bags sat under her eyes.
“I was dealing with him, Dafne. I’ve been dealing with Sebastian for two years, he may make my blood boil, but he is harmless.
” Harmless, except the one time she’d walked into their room when he’d had Amalia bent over their bed.
Needless to say, Alexander gave Thalia her own room after that.
“Things are different here; we do not attack our fellow soldiers, it causes too much discord in the ranks. If you want to challenge someone on the mat—work out what issues you may have—you can. But you cannot needlessly attack someone, especially at dinner.”
“So, would you have challenged him? Taken him to the mat?” Dafne asked with a hint of pestilence behind her words.
“Sebastian would not have accepted. Not since I almost took off his favorite body part.” It warmed Thalia to the core, thinking of that day. A man on his knees was a glorious sight, a man on his knees begging for his life, for his manhood—that was pure bliss.
Rolling her lips between her teeth, Dafne looked as if she was considering Thalia’s words carefully.
“It has been a long time since I was able to fight for anyone, anything I believed in…” Her voice trailed off.
“Myself. Could you help me? Learn, that is?” Her eyes widened and Thalia couldn’t help feeling guilt over her sister’s lack of skill in defense.
In all their years, Thalia had always been the one to fight, to protect them both.
Her sister was a fighter, always had been, but she was too hot headed… too emotional.
“I hate myself for saying this, but I am not the one who should train you. Could I? Of course, but it is a very different thing to fight against someone who’s advantage is stealth and speed than someone with strength and brawn.” Thalia was definitely going to regret this.
Dafne cocked her head to the side, raven-black hair flowing over her shoulder. “If not you, then who? If you say that wretched, wretched man, Thalia, I swear to the gods…”
Attempting not to fist her hands too tightly, Thalia fought against all instinct to say, “Dimitris.” Her sister’s eyes flared, gaze darting to something behind Thalia’s shoulder.
“Finally, gatáki, something we agree on.” Of course Dimitris had been standing right there. “As I said on the ship, my offer to train will always stand.”
“I see you have made your decision to accept the prince as a friend?” Mykonos tugged at the bond, letting her coy voice fill Thalia’s head.
She’d barely had time to step inside her chambers at the castle before the little creature padded over to her, stretching her legs with a shake making her fur stand at end.
Unlike when they journeyed on the seas, Mykonos was able to hunt in the woods for her own dinner, not needing to resort to stealing off Thalia’s plate or begging the crew to give her extra portions of fish.
Instead she prowled through the trees in her mountain lion form, stalking deer that roamed near the river.
Which is why Thalia had assumed Mykonos was napping rather than eavesdropping on her conversations—a belly full of game usually meant her psychí was snoring by the time Thalia ever returned to her room.
“Must I shield you out all of the time, Mykonos?” Thalia chuckled, lifting Mykonos up under her front legs and cradling the creature. Her psychí placed her paws on Thalia’s chest, staring up with big yellow eyes.
“That is not an answer to my question.” She nuzzled against Thalia.
“I don’t need to answer the question when you already heard me,” Thalia retorted, walking them both over to the off-white couch that sat before the hearth where the caretaker had started a roaring fire.
“You are lucky there are no more of his kind here, Thalia,” Mykonos purred, hopping out of Thalia’s arms and sitting back in the small opening between her legs and the armrest, pupils narrowing despite the abundance of light. “I was not speaking of your words to Dafne about him training her.”
Oh gods—she hadn’t even thought of the other reason her psychí would think that. “It’s not what it seems like…”
Wasn’t it though? She had practically goaded him into touching her, holding his hand firmly as it gripped around her hip, guiding it to all the places she wanted like a woman starved.
“You should really take a bath, I’m sure the prince is delighted knowing he has made his mark.
” A small chirrup left Mykonos’s mouth and she curled up on the couch.
“Although, it looks like you won’t be able to do that anytime soon.
” Ears twitching, Mykonos’s head swiveled to the door before a resounding knock, knock, knock echoed in the room.
It couldn’t be Dafne, Thalia had just settled her into Leighton’s usual chambers next door and her sister immediately passed out on the bed, curling herself in the forest green satin sheets, muttering about how grateful she was to be on dry, stable land.
Cal was no doubt still snoring in his chambers down the hall if he hadn’t been present to stop Dafne from almost stabbing Sebastian in the great hall.
Thalia would need to scold him later for letting Dafne out of his sight and not coming to find her immediately when they’d arrived from the Aphrodite.
Padding back over to the door, Thalia unclicked the latch, peeking out to the hall.
Standing in front of her door, two crystal goblets and one very dusty bottle of wine in hand was Dimitris.
He had changed from his traveling clothes, now in loose-fitting, gray sleeping trousers and a short sleeve shirt the color of the sky and far tighter than necessary that accentuated the tiny flecks of aquamarine in his silver irises.
If Thalia had any self-restraint she would have told him to go away, shut the door, and gone to sleep.
But the label on that particular bottle of wine was all too familiar to her: a twenty-year-aged blend with pepper and cherry she could never refuse.
“I thought you might like a nightcap after what happened at dinner.” Dimitris smiled, holding up the bottle and glasses in front of his chest.
When he’d asked her to stay on the ship, to sit with him and have a drink, to get to know him, she declined. This time she wouldn’t refuse. What was the worst that could happen? She’d realize she actually enjoyed his company? There was absolutely no way that would occur.