CHAPTER 12

We spend three more days recovering. The Sintans camp outside the circus grounds, but I sleep in my old tent. Temporary homecomings are bittersweet. Sometimes it’s better not to go back at all than to have to leave again. I don’t have a choice, though, binding vow or not. Otis may have failed, but Alpha Fisa won’t give up. Andromeda knows I’m in Sinta now. She’s still coming for me, and next time, she’ll send something worse.

My friends gather behind us as we prepare to leave, throwing dirty looks at my Sintan companions. Only Selena’s brow remains unruffled, as if she knows something the rest of us don’t. Before we ride out, she breaks rank and strides toward me.

“This is for you. From Hades.” She drops a small charm into the palm of my hand. It’s a gold figurine of Cerberus. The hound has six ruby eyes, a set for each of its three heads.

I can’t hide my astonishment. “Why is Hades interested in me?”

“Only use it if you have to.” She closes my fingers around the warm metal, not answering my question.

“How does it work?”

“He didn’t say.”

I look at her, incredulous. “You didn’t ask?”

“I was busy doing other things.”

I snort. “That’s helpful.”

Her blue eyes sparkle. “It was for me.”

I shut down my imagination before it paints too vivid a picture. “Do you at least know what it does?”

Selena shakes her head.

“Really? Nothing?” I ask.

She pats my cheek. End of discussion.

Beta Sinta reaches down for me and helps me clamber up the side of his gigantic horse. I take a deep breath as we then turn to leave. I don’t look back. I don’t want to see a huge, blue man with his arm around a weeping rainbow and a woman who shimmers like the sun. I don’t want to see dozens of people I care about or Cerberus’s terrifying, ugly, furry heads because if I do, the already painful ache inside me might turn into something I can’t bear.

Beta Sinta tries to talk to me, but I stay silent, afraid words won’t make it past the thickness in my throat. After thirty minutes of riding in silence, we turn west, skirting the farms outside the city instead of heading north.

“We’re staying in Kaplos?” I ask, confused.

He shakes his head, his midnight hair sliding along his neck and curling slightly around his ears. I find myself looking a little too hard at the back of his tanned neck. The spray of freckles across it is…kind of appealing.

“We’re going to a horse breeder I know.”

Oh? The horses all seem fine to me. “Why?”

“Don’t you want a horse?”

Actually, it never even occurred to me. “Now that you mention it, it would be fabulous to get away from you and… What’s your horse’s name? All this time, and I never thought to ask.”

“Horse.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s original.”

“Brown Horse,” he amends.

It’s hard not to laugh. “Much better, but I can’t afford a horse.”

“I’ll take it out of your wage.”

“Then I can’t afford to eat.”

“Don’t worry about it, Cat.”

“I don’t want you buying me a horse!” My voice comes out sharper than intended, but I don’t want to be dependent, or beholden, or anything really.

“Then ride with me.”

I weigh my options. “I’d rather starve and have a horse.”

He doesn’t argue. Maybe he saw how many spice cakes I consumed over the last few days and thinks cutting back would do me good.

The farm we stop at is only a midsized affair, but I can tell just from the upkeep of the fences that we’ll find high-quality animals here.

“Take your pick,” Beta Sinta says after the breeder gives us a demonstration of five horses he thinks would suit me.

I glance at him, surprised. I thought he’d choose for me. “I don’t know anything about horses. The last time I had a choice, I was too young to care about anything other than pretty or not pretty.”

He slides me a long look. I never volunteer information about my past, so I’m surprised when he doesn’t press for more. He points to a chestnut whose reddish coat gleams in the sun. “He’s the right size and fairly placid.”

“Why do I need placid?”

He hits me with his hard stare. “Because then at least one of you will stay calm.”

“Calm is boring,” I retort.

His white teeth flash, and his gray eyes crinkle at the corners. “Absolutely,” he agrees, looking at me with undisguised heat in his eyes.

My stomach flips over in a way that makes me want to throw up for a variety of reasons, but significantly lessens the urge to argue.

I take a deep breath. “The chestnut, then?”

“Or that gray.” He nods to a horse the color of dirty snow with four black socks and a dark muzzle. “He’s fast.”

“Faster than the chestnut?”

Beta Sinta nods. “But the chestnut can run, too. He’s powerful enough.”

“He. He. What about a girl horse?”

He shakes his head. “You don’t want a mare.”

“Why not?”

He angles his head toward mine, his eyes still smiling. I don’t think my eyes are even capable of smiling. “Females are temperamental,” he says with a roguish grin.

My eyes narrow, and I give him a hearty shove. Playfully, he shoves me back. I land on my ass.

“For the Gods’ sakes,” I mutter.

Beta Sinta looks surprised. “You fall over too easily.”

“Excuse me for being half your size!”

“Next time, I’ll remember that,” he says, extending his hand to me.

Next time? Next time! I pop up and launch myself at him. I’m not quite sure why.

Flynn, who’s on my other side, catches me in midair. “We’re a team, Cat, remember? No fighting.” Roped with muscle, Flynn’s arm covers my entire midsection. I go limp, blowing sweat-dampened curls out of my eyes. All these stupid rules of camaraderie! Gag!

Beta Sinta grins at me. Flynn sets me down.

“So which horse do you want?” Beta Sinta asks as if I hadn’t just tried to get into a brawl with him for no apparent reason. He’s just… He’s just so… Argh!

“The chestnut,” I answer sourly. “At least one of us will stay calm.”

* * *

I like having my own horse, and traveling with the Sintans without being tied up is actually kind of fun—something I would die a thousand horrific deaths before ever admitting to them. Carver thinks my sword technique could use work, so he offers to spar with me. Having seen him wield a blade, I can’t say no.

We circle, weapons raised. Kato is off hunting, Flynn is on watch, and Beta Sinta is polishing his sword, keeping an eye on us. My attacks are child’s play for Carver. He’s so fluid with a blade that I start to wonder if there’s something magical about his ability, some magic I can’t steal, or even feel. After an hour of practicing, I’m tired and sweaty, and I haven’t landed a single hit.

Frustrated, I spin out of a deadlock before Carver disarms me or pushes me to the ground again. Before I can turn back around, he spanks me with the flat of his sword. It stings, and I howl.

Rubbing my backside, I demand, “Do all men have a thing for spanking?”

Carver wiggles his eyebrows. “Most women, too.”

I huff, although I have heard…

“Ever been spanked before?” he asks.

“Don’t be cheeky.” For some reason, a conjured up image of Beta Sinta trying to smack my naked bottom while I halfheartedly scramble away flits through my much too active imagination. Warmth billows up inside me, singeing my face.

“You have!” Carver grins.

“Not. Answering.” Nope. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Beta Sinta look up.

“There are different kinds of spanking,” Carver goes on, his tone getting friskier by the second.

I press my lips together to keep from smiling. “Enlighten me.”

He shakes his head, looking as if I’ve just confessed to a colossal tragedy. “That must mean you haven’t been spanked enough.”

I’m pretty sure spanking is a metaphor now. “No,” I agree sadly, playing along. “Not nearly enough.”

Before I know it, he’s on my other side, slapping my ass with his sword again. I let out a screech that would make a Harpy proud, swing, and slice air.

Laughing, Carver dances to my right and feints, tricking me into stepping the wrong way, and then hits me again. “I could help you with that. Just say the word.”

He’s flirting again. What a pest. My rear end is a strange mix of numbness and heat. I refuse to be smacked again, so I drop my guard, lower my eyelashes enough to distract, and turn my voice a shade breathy, stepping right into Carver. “With an offer like that, how can I refuse?”

He gapes at me. Clearly, my reciprocating was the last thing he expected. I whip a dagger from my belt and plant it at his groin, pricking just enough to make him yelp. Carver freezes.

I cant my head, saying coolly, “I haven’t been spanked much because I do the spanking.”

Beta Sinta laughs, startling the birds in the branches above. “Carver,” he says. “She just handed you your balls.”

Carver grins. “That’s all right, as long as I get to keep them.”

I can’t help it. I laugh. Carver takes advantage of my distraction and sweeps my feet out from under me. I land on my side, a rock digging into my hip. He leans over, maybe to help me up, but I twist and kick him in the jaw. Not too hard, but hard enough. He reels back, and I jump to my feet, raising my sword. We spar again until he disarms me, sending my weapon spiraling across the clearing. In a blink, his blade is at my heart. I leap away with a series of backflips and then pick up my sword again, ready.

Carver’s eyebrows fly up. “Where’d you learn that?”

“The circus. When Alyssa was pregnant, I used to fill in for her on the tumbling routines.”

Instead of trying to engage me again, Carver sheathes his blade, signaling an end to our practice. He approaches, giving me a bold once-over. “I like a woman of many talents.”

“I think you just like women.”

He gets an odd look on his face, a flash of vulnerability, gone so fast I might have imagined it. “All shapes and sizes,” he magnanimously admits.

I roll my eyes, and he throws a sinewy arm across my shoulders, hauling me against his sweaty side. “You use a sword well enough, but that’ll only get you so far, especially because you’re tiny and weak.”

Frowning, I pinch him really hard.

“Stick to knives,” he says, twisting out of my grip. “Do some magic. Only engage in one-on-one combat if you’re sure you can win.”

In other words, my sword is for show. Sheathing it, I throw his arm off me. “I want to get better with a blade.”

He shrugs. “You have other skills.”

“Men don’t understand discretion. My goal is to survive on my weakest abilities. That saves other talents for when I really need them and doesn’t reveal important skills to any idiot who might be watching.”

Carver laughs. “You and ‘discreet’ don’t belong in the same sentence.”

I pinch him again. His response is to grab me and wrestle me to the ground. I’m pinned in five seconds flat. I know because he counts.

A shadow looms over us. “Go for your swim, Cat.” Beta Sinta doesn’t look amused anymore now that Carver is lying on top of me. “Then I have questions.”

I scowl. He gave me three days, which is actually more than I expected. My mood souring, I toss him a dirty look, wiggle out from under an extremely uncooperative Carver, and then head for the stream. At least I get to bathe alone.

Dry and dressed, I amble back to the clearing, in no hurry to answer Beta Sinta’s questions. Kato came back with two rabbits, and I caught a fish. It kept bumping into my legs, so I snagged it, thinking it must be a gift from Poseidon.

Kato guts the fish and skins the rabbits and then whittles something with his knife while Flynn does the cooking. Carver patrols the perimeter, staying relatively close. I look through my satchel, taking inventory of my possessions and trying to hit Carver with kalaberries from the bush next to me every time he comes near. Beta Sinta must get tired of waiting because he finally pins me with an impatient look and motions for me to join him near the fire.

“It’s time,” he says when I reluctantly plop down next to him. “I want to know about the Fisan royals.”

I lean back on my elbows to get away from the heat, glimpsing the first of the night’s stars overhead. “And I want a lamb steak slathered in butter oregano sauce with tiny red potatoes fried until they’re crispy.”

The look he gives me is flat and devoid of humor. “And I want one bloody night when you answer the damn question and finally realize there are bigger issues here than your obvious love of sarcasm, evasion, and sullen silence.”

I purse my lips, suddenly extremely uncomfortable. Something stirs inside me. Guilt? “We can’t always have what we want.”

“Clearly,” he growls.

I glance at him, frowning. Not that he’s wrong—I am sarcastic, sullen, and evasive—but he’s always in a bad mood after I spend time with Carver. Or Flynn. Or Kato.

Is he jealous? That’s ridiculous.

An achy tightness clamps around my heart at the idea, though, squeezing hard. Heat unfurls in my belly and then crawls up my neck. “I thought you cared about your team.”

His eyes turn tempest gray. “Have you decided to be part of the team?”

I thought that was obvious. I shrug.

He stares at me until I almost squirm. “Then you can start by telling me what you know about the Fisan royals.”

I know a lot. The question is what to tell Beta Sinta. There’s a dark look in his eyes tonight, making me wonder how much bending of the truth I can get away with.

I stretch my legs out and cross them at the ankles, hoping I look more relaxed than I feel. “The Queen, Andromeda, had eight children.”

“Andromeda. Ruler of men.”

“Ruler of men, women, children, large monsters… She controls everything and everyone. The King Consort, Dimitri, is useless. He sits around looking pretty and donating seed for her womb.”

“Eight children and Alpha Fisa. A busy woman.”

He mentions children first, which intrigues me. “What with terrorizing everyone, especially her own kids, I imagine she hardly has a second to spare.”

“Why have eight children only to terrorize them?”

I sigh, throwing my head back. “Sinta’s going to get squashed.”

“What makes you say that?” The sidelong look he slants me is heavy with warning.

Here’s something I never thought I’d say… “You’re too nice.”

Beta Sinta’s eyes spark dangerously. “I’m fairly certain the Magoi royals weren’t thinking I was nice the night I plowed through them with my sword, and you’d do well to remember what I’m capable of, too. Don’t cross me, Cat. Ever.”

I mock shudder. “I’m so scared.”

He ignores my sarcasm, his hard stare hitting me even harder than usual. “I’m just as capable of making people miserable as other royals. I don’t do it for fun. That doesn’t mean I won’t.”

Did he just threaten me? “Fine. I like to provoke. Warning ingested.” And spit back out. “You’re big and bad. I’ll try to remember.”

He arches a dark eyebrow. I think his lips twitch. “So. Eight children.” He pokes a stick into the fire, sending sparks spiraling into the gathering gloom.

I actually respect the way Beta Sinta can end an awkward situation and move on as if nothing happened. We brawl? So what. Everyone gets up, and it’s done. I swim around naked high on euphoria? It’s forgotten. Pretty much. I think… I insult him and insinuate that he can’t protect his realm? He tells me he’s as mean as the next guy when he wants to be, and it’s over, back to the eight children.

“Eight children should be enough to ensure the bloodline even with all the fighting among them. Andromeda is Alpha. Like most royals, to avoid coming under constant attack from her own children, she spent their childhoods teaching them to fear her and to hate each other. To them, she’s terrifying. Untouchable. They fight to become Beta, to inherit the throne. It’s suicidal to even think about trying to eliminate an Alpha like her.”

“But Betas challenge Alphas,” he argues.

“Not Alphas like Andromeda. But yes, otherwise, if the Alpha’s power dwindles, and when other threats, like siblings, are taken care of.”

“It’s not natural. Why not raise her family to be loyal to her? And to one another? They’d be stronger that way. A unit.”

“Because royals, and especially Andromeda, don’t think like you. Power is their ultimate goal. They challenge each other for it. They kill to get it, and they kill to keep it. Everything else is secondary, including emotional and family ties.”

“And you gleaned all this while spending eight months in a cage?”

Eh… “It was an instructive period in my life.” I hesitate and then add, “But I was in the castle for a lot longer than that.”

He studies me, his eyes dark and metallic in the firelight. Reflecting the flames, they glint a burnished bronze. “How old were you?”

“You mean in the cage?” That’s not the question I was expecting.

He nods.

My lungs constrict in a familiar way, making it hard to breathe through the memory of lies, sneering grins, tempting food just out of reach, fists, flames, and blades, all snaking their way through the bars, and Andromeda’s face, a cold, marble mask, watching it all. “Nine.”

“Nine!”

“Don’t look so horrified. I’m lucky none of them killed me. Andromeda had guards on me day and night to avoid it coming to that.” I huff a bitter laugh. “The guards didn’t stop much else, though.” Only Thanos did. For brief, blissful moments I could sleep, and he kept everyone at bay.

Beta Sinta’s voice turns gruff with anger. “She caged you for your magic.”

I’m tempted to say “like you,” but things have changed too much for that. It wouldn’t be fair, and he’s nothing like Andromeda.

“Yes.” It wasn’t really a question, and I don’t elaborate. I don’t tell him how she encouraged the royal children to lie to me, or how she hid me behind screens during gatherings and made Ajax record my every twitch so she’d know who was lying to her.

“How did you get out of the cage?”

I stare at the tips of my boots, itching in my own skin, sick with the knowledge that Andromeda made me an accomplice to cavalier murder a hundred times over. “When I found out she was eviscerating people for utterly insignificant falsehoods, I learned to control my reactions. She knew I still felt the lies, but when she couldn’t beat the truths out of me, she let me out of the cage.”

“Odd she didn’t just kill you.”

I glance over at him. He could just as easily have said, “Odd she didn’t serve pheasant at dinner.” Sinta might survive after all.

“I’m too valuable to kill. Kingmakers are rare, and useful. She bribed me. More guards, food, clothing, beautiful accommodations. It worked for a while. I was only nine, and I’d just been tortured and deprived of all comfort for eight months.”

A mixture of fury and disgust contorts his features. “How did you get away? People don’t just let a weapon like you go.”

I give him the evil eye. “You should know. But you asked about the royals. Let’s talk about the royals.”

He starts to say something, but I cut him off. “Of the eight children, four were left. I killed Otis. That leaves Laertes, Priam, and Ianthe. They’re probably busy trying to kill each other off now that they’ve each moved up a rank.”

Ianthe had only just turned nine when I escaped Fisa City. Priam was eleven, Laertes thirteen. Andromeda was already hard at work turning them into monsters. Otis was fourteen. Now he’s dead.

“Are they all Magoi?” Beta Sinta asks.

I snort. “Andromeda’s line would produce nothing less. If by some fluke of nature it did, she’d probably drown the child at birth, like the unwanted runt of the litter.”

He grunts. “She sounds like a treat.”

I almost smile. That was funny. It would have been funnier if she hadn’t terrorized me for years.

“They mostly have Fire Magic. It’s common among Fisan royals, but they can all do different things with it. Needles of fire, Chimera’s Fire, fire whips, fire balls, flaming attack birds… You know, that kind of thing.”

“No,” he says broodingly. “I know very little of that kind of thing.”

I stare into the fire. Rabbit fat drips from the spit, making it spark and hiss. “Use your imagination. None of it’s fun.”

He’s silent for a while, using his imagination, I guess. “Did they attack you with fire in the cage?”

I sit up, drawing my knees under my chin. “Among other things. Torture is a favorite pastime in Castle Fisa.”

He looks at me strangely, a crease settling between his eyebrows. Compassion? Pity? I can’t tell. I don’t want either.

“But you absorbed it and sent it back?”

I shake my head. “Not then. I couldn’t do that then.”

I see the exact moment he puts the pieces together. It doesn’t take long. “The Oracle. The gift.”

I don’t deny or confirm, and I don’t tell him I was granted two gifts, or that I’ve felt Poseidon’s presence close to me ever since.

“The Fisan royals are abominations,” Beta Sinta announces.

I nod. I couldn’t agree more.

“What do you say we kill every last one of them?”

I turn, and my eyes crash into his. For me? “I’d say our goals have common ground,” I answer cautiously, a little breathless.

His gaze turns even more intense than usual, and heat swamps my insides. “Tell me about the others. The first four.”

“Why? They’re dead.” Mostly, anyway.

“Humor me.”

It’s not in my nature to humor people. I start talking anyway. “Thaddeus killed Ajax. Lukia killed Thaddeus. Otis killed Eleni. And Lukia is missing.”

“The Lost Princess?”

I smile vaguely. “Heard of her?”

He nods. “I didn’t know her name, but I think everyone has heard of the Lost Princess of Fisa. Do you know why she disappeared?”

“The ambiance in Castle Fisa wasn’t exactly homey,” I answer tartly.

He grins. It’s wide and unexpected and sends a sudden thrill through me.

Shifting uncomfortably, I push the feeling aside. “Andromeda trapped Lukia and Eleni and then forced them into an arena, intending them to fight to the death.” I use words Beta Sinta will understand. “They were a team. They worked together to stay alive. The two girls actually liked each other, and Andromeda couldn’t have that. They were growing up, becoming more powerful, thinking. Their popularity was reaching dangerous levels, especially since Andromeda had none.”

“So she found a way to tear them apart?”

I shake my head. “They refused to fight. She deprived them of food, then water. When that didn’t work, she got in their heads. Compulsion,” I explain. “Planting ideas. Controlling actions. Making things seem…not what they are. They resisted. It took seven days and a lot of weakening for the princesses to come to blows. They were both half-dead by then. Eleni was older, stronger, and Lukia’s magic wasn’t useful in combat. But Eleni wouldn’t kill her sister, no matter what Andromeda did.”

“What happened?” he asks when I fall silent.

“Eleni could hardly walk. The pressure in her head must have been unbearable. She was bleeding from her ears, her nose, her eyes… She still put herself between her mother and Lukia. Andromeda grabbed her by the hair, said, ‘Weakness does not go unpunished,’ dragged her over to Otis, and handed him a knife. He stabbed Eleni through the heart.”

“Gods!” Beta Sinta breathes a curse. “That’s barbaric.”

For once, we agree.

“Were you still at the castle? What happened to Lukia?”

“A few days later she was gone, never to be seen again.”

“What did Andromeda do?”

“She went crazy. Lukia was her favorite.”

“She had favorites?” He says that like I just spouted gibberish.

“Didn’t your parents?”

“No. Never.”

I frown, trying to imagine a life like that.

“Why was Lukia her favorite?”

I’ve always wondered the same thing. I give him the truth, as far as I know. “Lukia was the only one without fire, like her mother. Their magic was different, more…internal. I guess Andromeda thought that made her special.”

“Didn’t it just make her weaker?” Beta Sinta asks.

The ghost of a smile haunts my lips. “Maybe it made her stronger. She had to fight harder to survive.”

“Makes sense.” He pulls out a long knife, the blade flashing in the corner of my vision. He lifts it, startling me, and my legs punch out on instinct, kicking the knife from his hand. People talk about fight or flight? That’s nonsense. It’s fight and flight. I twist and take off.

“Umph!” The air leaves my lungs as my chest hits the ground.

One second Beta Sinta is next to me, and the next he’s on top of me, heavy and volcanically hot. He flips me over and pins my wrists to the ground on either side of my head.

I blink. What just happened? He looks like he’s wondering the same thing.

“What are you doing?” he grates out.

My eyes widen. I don’t know! “I saw a knife.”

“And you assumed I was going to attack you?” Surprise colors his tone, and maybe some anger. His expression seems to question my sanity. “I was going to cut you a slice of rabbit for dinner.”

He was going to feed me? I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. Of course he wasn’t attacking me. It’s this conversation putting me on edge. I didn’t think. I just reacted. Fear and aggression are always so close to the surface. I was raised to fight, fight, fight. “I’m violent by nature.”

His grip eases on my wrists. He shakes his head, looking bewildered. “Save it for your enemies, Cat. That’s not me.”

I scoff and start thrashing.

His body presses me down. “You can’t fight me, so you might as well stop trying.”

Gah! It’s true. I get nowhere. Beta Sinta doesn’t let me up, and he’s so close that I can see the dark-silver rims around his irises, and smell the sunshine and wind still clinging to his hair after the bright, breezy afternoon. His warm breath fans my lips, and my traitorous body turns pliant, some parts of me softening while others heat up, thrumming with tension. My lips part, and his eyes drop to my mouth, lingering there before flicking back up, softer now, heavier lidded.

Heat swirls through me, and something more potent, like need. I beat it down and glare daggers. “Get off! You weigh more than a Dragon.” I thrash again, moving about half an inch.

His arms tense as he lowers his head, inhaling long and deep in the curve of my neck. When he speaks, his lips brush the sensitive skin below my ear, and a shiver races from my head to my toes. In a low rasp, he says, “I like the way you feel.”

What!

He lifts his head, and his raised eyebrows tell me I didn’t just shriek that in my head.

“And you won’t admit it,” he says quietly, “but you like the way I feel, too.”

My eyes shoot wide open as shock ripples through me. Do I like how he feels? He feels hot and heavy and hard, and there’s more hardness growing against my thigh. My cheeks burn while something dangerously close to excitement flutters in my belly. Between my legs, the sudden emptiness throbs, muscles tensing in anticipation. Stupid muscles.

“See how well we fit?” Beta Sinta’s question is like a toe-curling caress, soft yet urgent. “You have no idea how much I want to touch you.”

I gasp. I thought we had boundaries. Apparently not.

He takes advantage of my surprise to settle more firmly against me, rocking once. The movement is barely there, but it’s enough to send sensation crashing through me. He dips his head again, his cheek brushing mine. His tongue flicks the shell of my ear, and I inhale sharply, a jolt of desire thundering through me. His lips skim down my throat, his warm, suddenly ragged breath curling around my neck and captivating my senses. He nips softly at my hammering pulse. My whole body jerks under him. I stifle a moan.

Smoothing his thumbs over the insides of my wrists, he rises above me, his eyes never leaving mine. The sensual touch makes me tremble. So does the earthy roughness in his voice. “I never know what to expect with you. Worldly cynicism or blushing innocence. It’s enough to drive a man insane.”

I stop breathing, going perfectly still while my heart throws itself against my ribs. I fight the urge to draw up my knees and cradle him between my thighs. For one charged moment, I’m not sure what will win: common sense, or instinct. It seems wrong for them to be at war.

My lungs start to burn. At my shuddering breath, Beta Sinta smiles, the raw hunger in his expression fading into amusement.

I narrow my eyes and jerk my forehead up, but he dodges, lifting off me in one powerful, fluid twist.

Dazed, I sit up and glance around. Kato, Carver, and Flynn are busy looking anywhere but at us, and I feel my face flame kalaberry red.

“Why would Andromeda send her favorite child into an arena for a fight to the death?” Beta Sinta asks.

Seriously? It’s over, just like that. No more tussle. No more hard, heavy body on top of mine. No more hot breath in my ear. No more tongue.

Thank the Gods. Gag!

Sort of.

Except not at all.

Gah! I’m going insane!

That fluttering is happening again, almost like feathers whispering over the insides of my ribs. I press my palm to my chest, pushing back while Beta Sinta picks up a twig and holds it to the flames. I watch it burn. There’s too much fire in my life, and I hate the heat.

“Probably because she thought Lukia could win.” I’m surprised my voice comes out steady. I don’t feel steady.

“But she couldn’t.”

I pull my legs to my chest again, locking my arms around my knees. “Maybe she couldn’t. Maybe she didn’t even try.”

He turns to me, his gaze intent, his eyes deep and turbulent like Poseidon’s seas. “Where’d she go?”

I roll my eyes. “How in the Underworld should I know? I’m not an Oracle, and it doesn’t matter. You’re asking the wrong questions, Beta Sinta.”

“My name is Griffin.”

“Your name is Beta Sinta.”

“That’s what I am, not who I am.”

I groan and bury my face in my hands. “You’re hopeless!”

“Call me Griffin, and I’ll ask the right questions.”

“Fine. Griffin. Are you happy now?”

“Yes.”

He also just proved it’s possible for one word to hit me like wine—potent, and a little intoxicating.

“What’s the right question?” He winks. “Cat.”

I huff, clamping down on the need to claw and bite. I haven’t felt this savage in years. It’s his fault. He brings it out in me. “What does it mean if the Lost Princess is still alive?” I prompt.

“What does it mean? …Cat.”

I glare at him. He’s teasing me, and it’s getting to me, making me feel hot, and annoyed, and…happy. Everything about this is dangerous. Worst case—it’ll get one of us killed, and it probably won’t be me.

“It means no Fisan royals after Andromeda can be secure in their reigns. The current Beta, Gamma, and Delta will always be wondering if Lukia is alive—if she’ll come back to challenge them. Fisans will always be wondering if they’re bowing down to the wrong ruler, especially when they’d probably prefer Lukia to anyone who’s left. When people start asking questions like that, of themselves, of others, that’s when realms explode.” I look at Beta Sinta. Griffin. “That’s when warlords from the south sweep in and massacre royal families.”

His eyes sharpen. “Are you saying there are people who would challenge Andromeda?”

Adrenaline floods my system, setting my heart suddenly to galloping. “Not without Lukia, or someone else to rally them. But Tarva and Fisa are just like Sinta. The royals here were too busy fighting each other to realize how powerful you had become. You surprised them all. You gathered Sintans behind you with the simple promise of being different. The royal family was left with their magic and their army. How hard did their army fight for them?”

He frowns, considering. “Surprisingly few soldiers were willing to sacrifice their lives once it looked like I might win.”

“Of course not. Who wants to die for selfish, cruel people no one likes to begin with? Eleni and Lukia were different. Fisans liked them, especially Eleni. She’s dead, and Lukia’s gone. If Andromeda falters or dies, it won’t take much for Fisans to rebel if they think there’s a real chance of winning instead of getting massacred. Fisa’s army won’t fight any harder than Sinta’s did. Royals keep their power through fear. Plant a seed of doubt and vines spread. Until Fisans see the Lost Princess’s dead body, or she returns to rule, they’ll never truly accept one of the others as Alpha. They bow down mostly out of terror, but partly out of sheer tradition. Tradition breaks without the true Alpha.”

He’s quiet for a while. When he says my name, something in his tone makes me look up. There’s admiration in his eyes, and it gives me a warm feeling I don’t like at all.

“You’re more than just the Kingmaker. You’re a strategist. You understand how people think and can predict their moves. You’d make a capable ruler.”

His words strike fear into my heart. His next words rattle me like the gong of a death toll.

“It sounds like Fisa’s ripe for a takeover.”

“You have Sinta,” I say, swallowing stronger protests I can’t explain.

“Egeria has Sinta.”

I don’t say anything. I’m not about to encourage him to take over Fisa now that I’m tied to him for life. His life, anyway.

“So why was Otis so bent on killing you rather than bringing you back to Fisa?”

I shrug. “I don’t know if he wanted to kill me or capture me. It didn’t get that far.”

His eyes meet mine, challenging. “He looked like he wanted to kill you.”

He did, didn’t he? “Andromeda wants me alive. I’m certain of that. Maybe he wanted to thwart his mother. Or make sure someone else didn’t get me instead.”

“Your eye is twitching.”

Damn eye! “Dust.”

He snorts.

Fine. I didn’t believe me, either. “Otis knew it was him or me. It was Andromeda’s mistake for sending him instead of someone else. She doesn’t understand human emotion, or attachment, so it didn’t factor into her decision, but Otis knew I’d kill him for what he did to Eleni. She was good to me. We were…close, and she did her best to protect her sister. I only got away thanks to her. She died, Lukia took off, and with all the confusion in the castle, I was able to slip away. I owe Eleni my freedom. I owe her my life.”

He nods, believing me this time. “You must have enjoyed killing Otis, then.”

My lips twist in a smile Mother would be proud of. “You have no idea.”