Other than his offer for her to ride him, Rhoetus hadn’t spoken since she’d employed her powers and revealed his true path. Minthe had accepted the silence, though it irked her that he wouldn’t share his plans. Her gift allowed her to guide lost souls, but even she couldn’t help those who wished to remain lost.

He’d seemed so…angry at his path.

Of course, he wasn’t the first to react poorly to her aid. Not everyone welcomed her introspection. She shrugged off his cool manners, hopped off his back, and concentrated on the castle looming in the distance. Great Meteoron. She’d visited the village below many times, but never had she entered the formidable castle set upon a massive precipice, thousands of feet in the air. Formed of gleaming alabaster, the edifice shone as a beacon of hope, even in the darkest times. She followed Rhoetus to the entry, where a pair of guards made inquiries of those who requested passage through the Portal which would bring them to the castle at the top.

Rhoetus strode forward and halted before the guards. “Lord Rhoetus from the Isle of Krete.” In his centaur form, he swept into a formal bow, one front leg tucked beneath him. “I have business with your King.”

The guards glanced at each other.

Nerves danced across her skin. “I come from Lord Petraeus with news of the Amazon rescue.” She glided forward. “I’m Minthe of the Asteriae. I’ve been sent to escort Lord Rhoetus.”

The guards nodded at her. “We’ve been waiting for news. You may pass through.” Although they eyed her companion, they didn’t stop him from stepping into the gilded arch of the Portal alongside her.

A blast of wind rushed across her, and a moment later, she wobbled on her feet at the top of the cliff. A set of thick doors opened into a grand chamber, walls of white stone drawing her eye to the pair of thrones at the far end.

Rhoetus planted his hand beneath her elbow. “Steady, Asteri.”

The rumble in his voice was low and uncertain, but he strode forward with his usual regal magnitude, towing her at his side.

The dozen occupants spun at their entrance, their buzzing conversations slowing to a halt.

Of course, Rhoetus commanded everyone’s consideration. Including hers. She cast glimpses at him as they approached the regal figure seated upon the larger of the two thrones. A male with a kindly face and gentle grey eyes beamed across her, and then hardened his features upon the male at her side.

“Lord Rhoetus of Krete.” King Cheiron leaned forward, his gaze assessing. “I have been waiting your arrival. I believe we have much to discuss. Sadly, our kin have had no contact in all my long days as King.”

Rhoetus dropped into a shallow bow. “That much, King Cheiron, I hope to remedy.”

* * *

So this was the great King Cheiron II, heir of the legendary Cheiron, confidante of heroes. Rhoetus centered his focus on the elderly centaur, searching for any hint of what he’d been told by his kin was truth.

Harsh? Cruel? Iron-fisted?

Difficult to tell. All he viewed before him was an old man. What kind of King was Cheiron? How would his subjects react to Rhoetus’s plans?

He swallowed thickly, straightened, and examined the room from the corners of his eyes. Several burly males eyed him in suspicion. From the Amazons, he’d learned there were five sons.

Five heirs.

Or rather, five opponents with great claims to this throne.

Would any of them rise to challenge him?

“Your journey here must have been long. Might I suggest you rest and we shall acquaint ourselves at the feast tonight? I am told there is much to celebrate, with the rescue of the nymphs, in which you played a grand role.” Cheiron dipped his head. “My servants will escort you to your rooms and attend to any requests you may have.”

Relief whipped through him. This would give him time to assess the stronghold and determine his plan of action. “I thank you. That sounds wonderful.”

He bowed once more, before snaring Minthe’s arm, spinning on his hoof, and striding to the servant beckoning him.

“Follow me, milord.” A grey-haired centauress beckoned them with a sweep of her arm. “You and the lady shall stay in the blue room.”

“Ah.” He cleared his throat. “Separate chambers, actually.”

“Oh, forgive me, milord, milady.” The weathered servant bobbed her head and directed them down a vast corridor to the room at the far right end. “This is the blue room. For you, milady, we shall ready the yellow room.” She left them alone and hastened toward a room down the hall.

Minthe pursed her lips, assessing him.

“Until later, lass.” Arms crossed, he kept his features stoic.

She huffed and whirled about to follow the servant.

Aye, that did the trick. He didn’t require her presence or her aid, and he’d rejected both.

Rhoetus entered the blue room and scanned the perimeters. A circular balcony occupied the far corner, while beside it rested a massive four-poster bed and, true its name, everything from the sheets to the tapestries carried a sapphire hue.

After a quick wash with a cloth he found next to the washbasin, he readied himself for the banquet tonight.

This palace wouldn’t be like the dungeons of King Philaeus’s castle. Those occupants had been human, and his powers had gone undetected. Here, any employment of his gift might attract unwanted attention, so he’d have to use caution when manipulating the Aether. A stroll of the hallways could provide him with the information he required. Tonight, he’d uncover just how many of those brothers were hanging about.

Most importantly, where did the King’s chambers lie?

* * *

It didn’t take long for a herd of nymphs to cluster around Minthe. While many of those imprisoned chose to return to their former homes—if they still existed—others had elected to gather in the sanctuary of Great Meteoron.

Where there was one nymph…

Minthe beamed at the females who’d flocked inside her chamber. River, forest, and flower nymphs. In the dungeon, they’d been together, even if they hadn’t occupied the same cells.

She shuddered as a flash of the day she’d been captured crept into her mind. Promptly, she shoved it aside. No point in dwelling upon those bastards who’d taken her and Ekho from their temporary home. Better to move forward. Besides, nothing was special about her story. Nothing different from the hundreds of other nymphs imprisoned. The only reason she’d been brought to the cavern was to lure her mother. Whose powers apparently were of interest to greater persons.

Ekho had Petraeus now, and it had taken Minthe only a few moments to sense the bond between them.

She was glad. Her entire life, Ekho hadn’t let anyone in. Though Ekho floated through other people’s minds, she never trusted anyone with hers. Now, she had someone to trust. To love.

It was more than Minthe would dare to hope for. Abandoned by her birth mother, who’d been deserted by her lover—Minthe’s father—Minthe had only ever had Ekho as family. That didn’t mean she was the only one to impart a lesson upon Minthe.

Love with the right person might be a grand thing, but with the wrong person, it was disastrous.

One pink-haired nymph—belonging to the Leimonides, flowery water-meadows—brushed Minthe’s hair and plaited it into a flowing cascade of tresses. Another—a Naiad, fresh water nymph—brought her a clean gown of dark cerulean silk.

Minthe thanked the pair, who aided her to dress and, after, followed the gathering out of her chamber. They headed toward the dining hall, a bright, boisterous room filled with several dozen creatures, centaurs and nymphs among them.

Save for one centaur. Where was Rhoetus? She snorted and took her seat at a long table in the midst of the nymphs. I care not.

The falsehood hung in her mind while a certain male sauntered into the dining hall, looking as delectable and magnificent as ever. His slightly damp locks curled wildly about his broad shoulders. Freshly bathed. Mmm. She narrowed her stare and fisted her hands in her lap. If he wouldn’t accept her aid, and he wouldn’t act upon his interest in her, she’d better discover precisely what he was about. Her mother’s persuasion wouldn’t leave her head until she did. Thank you, Mother.

He had a motive here. What was it?

He cast his mismatched perusal about the room, his scrutiny landing upon her, and a brief flicker of enticement crossed his depths.

Ah, so not so hidden. She offered him a saucy smirk and then forced her attention back onto her companions. Dismissing him for a change.

Yet he didn’t stay dismissed. Hooves stomped behind her and a warm presence descended by her ear. “I had hoped you’d join me.”

“You’d made the refusal of my company rather clear.”

“Come now, love,” his heated breath caressed her neck, “don’t make me beg.”

She curved her lips. “That’s precisely where I want you. On your knees.”

* * *

The coy minx. Rhoetus squelched the groan in his throat. How he’d love to be on his knees before her…

Right now, he required a dining partner. With a nymph at his side, he appeared far less threatening.

She was a perfect entrapment. By this gentle creature’s side, no one would believe him capable of the things he must do.

If only nymphs were as cooperative as they were enticing.

Rather than let her win, he feathered his lips close to her sensuous skin. “Fine. Have it your way, Asteri.” He sauntered off to a table by the window, where he could dine in peace. The mass of long tables filling this chamber had each been piled high with roasted meats, vegetables, and of course, vessels brimming with ale and mead.

Rhoetus snatched a goblet of the mead and sank in his seat, propping against the wall so as to keep both a view of the hall and the horizon. If he ever had to make a quick escape, he could transform into his eagle self. A gift he preferred not to exercise. Becoming an eagle only reminded him of him.

That was beneficial to no one.

In the corner, a band carried a lively tune on lyre and flute. They weren’t like the songs his kin played. But then, neither was this feast. Only tiny memories filled his mind of when he’d been a child, of the banquets in his father’s vast dining hall. Such times were long gone. Faded into the distant memories of childhood. Few of his kin had survived the massacre a century ago. No more than several hundred souls, and of those, many had scattered. Many more had perished in the trying times which came after. Humans had invaded their lands, usurped their homes. Humans instilled by King Minos.

They’d come. Boatloads of them. Overtaking everything.

Leaving Rhoetus and his kin to rot in the caves of Mount Ida. He dug his fingers into the wood grain of the tabletop and clenched his jaw. Those memories filled him with so much anger. Fury burned bright and hot despite the century that had passed.

He was so damn close. So close to restoring his people’s lands. He slipped his left hand to his hip, to the hilt of the dagger his father had gifted him upon his tenth birthday.

One simple task, and victory would be his. Vengeance would rain down upon his enemies. His people would be freed. Aye, he could almost close his fist around it.

“Those don’t appear to be carefree daydreams, centaur.” A chiming murmur cut into his musings, followed by the saucy nymph sliding onto the bench beside him.

He loosened his tensed muscles. “Mayhap I was resenting dining alone.”

She scoffed. “I think not.” Sweet Zeus. She’d dressed in some sort of filmy silk gown, which stretched tightly across her breasts, plumping them into full, soft curves the way his hands itched to do.

He squeezed his palms and shot his admiration to her face, but hell. The blue hue of her gown made her eyes glimmer like sapphires in the torchlit chamber, and her red hair danced, a brightly flickering fire.

The amusement melted from her features and she arched her thin brows. “I know a lost soul when I see one. You, sir, are lost. Lucky for you, I’m just the nymph to guide you.”

The undulating melody of her voice mesmerized him and he reclined, rapt. She leaned closer, and her breasts swelled further. Tensing, he focused on her face.

“You don’t need to fear my judgment. Share with me, and I can aid you.” Her soft warm hand closed atop his, and for a moment, he longed to blurt out everything. In this room, nonetheless.

Thankfully, the words didn’t pass his lips. Instead, he found another use for them.

Rhoetus shifted forward and stole her kiss. Soft, feathering. He wanted but a taste.

He knew he couldn’t have more.

* * *

Minthe froze. The last thing she’d anticipated was Rhoetus kissing her. Or the blissful jolt sparking through her veins at the brush of his lips. Gentle yet firm. Demanding yet not challenging. He pulled back far too soon, a satisfied quirk on the corner of his mouth. As though he’d taken exactly how much he’d meant to.

All she could do in response was stutter and blink.

Curse the centaur.

What was his game? Recovering, she hardened her scrutiny on him, but he simply raised his goblet and took a swig.

Dismissing her again.

“What was that?” she grated through clamped teeth.

He lifted one thick brow. “Don’t you know, nymph? It’s called a kiss.”

Ugh. Smugly, he cast his dark stare around the hall. He was quite possibly the most infuriating person she’d ever attempted to help.

Two of Cheiron’s sons, Agrius and Oreius, sauntered toward their table, hooves stomping across the tiled floor, and plopped onto the seat across from them, elegantly reclining in their centaur forms. “Evening.” Agrius inclined his head.

She smiled at the stately male. “To you as well.”

“I’m Oreius and this is Agrius. It’s a fine honor to meet one of our distant kin.” Oreius extended a hand toward Rhoetus. “Forgive our father. He’s indisposed this eve, but we wished to welcome you on his behalf.”

Strangely, Rhoetus’s grip tightened around his mug for an instant before he seized the other centaur’s grasp and shook hands. “The pleasure is mine,” he intoned.

“Tell us what brings you from Krete.” Agrius took a sip from his goblet, intensity in his assessing, pewter stare.

“My sister.” Rhoetus cocked his head. “She’s a headstrong lass who’d sought adventure, only to find more than she bargained for. She was swept up with the nymphs King Philaeus had imprisoned. Thankfully, she’s safely on her way home. I thought, since I was here, I’d introduce myself to your father, the King.”

The two males grunted and bobbed their heads. “I know a thing or two about headstrong lasses.” Agrius chuckled. At his declaration, a wailing sounded from across the chamber. “That would be my daughter. If you’ll excuse me.” After he rose and bowed, he veered toward his infant and mate.

“If you should need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask. We’re at your service,” Oreius added, following his brother.

“I thank you,” Rhoetus mumbled into his goblet.

“Well, that was unusual,” Minthe hummed. She’d expected more affinity between the centaurs, less unspoken hostility. Though, they might simply be males testing each other’s strengths—and weaknesses.

“Well, nymph, what do your powers say about me now?”

She started. Had Rhoetus actually just inquired after her aid? “I can show you, but not here.” It was far too boisterous in here.

“Somewhere more intimate then.” He rose, not waiting for her to follow.

Intrigued, she set aside her irritation and did just that.