Chapter One

 

 

I'm a casual kind of person. I don't like a lot of fuss. Yet, I somehow manage to put myself into positions where my life becomes focused on the opposite of casual. Despite my bad luck in this department, I strive—and often succeed—to turn my situation into something a little more laid back and better suited to me. I'm Queen of the Fire Kingdom in Faerie; a position inordinately posh, and yet I had managed to knock down the barriers of rank between my people and me. The faeries of the Fire Kingdom knew they could come to their monarchs with any issue, no matter how small, and we would help them. I'm technically Queen of Asgard as well—due to my marriage to Odin—but I wasn't expected to reign. I had once been Rouva of the Froekn—yet another queenly role—but thankfully, I'd been knocked down to Princess when Fenrir had married Emma. So, that made two roles I'd gotten out of, and one that I had made the most of. Then there was the Intare.

My lions and I had been like family from day one—okay, maybe day two. We were as casual as you can get; as far as relationships between gods and their demi-gods went. And that's how I liked it. I loved my large, lion family and how comfortable we were around each other. But there were also times when I had to put on my serious face and my bossy pants to be their Tima: the Heart of the Intare. Basically, I had to play referee. This was one of those instances.

“Jiminy Cricket!” I swore.

My daughter, Lesya, was nearby—sitting on her father's lap—and we all tried not to say bad words around her. In fact, it had become a game; with all of us trying to see who could come up with the most creative curses. This speech modification had become especially important now that Lesya had begun talking. Human children grew up fast, but supernatural babies could double that speed; depending on what type of supernatural they were. Lesya was part werelion, and that meant she had the maturation rate of a lion cub.

“Jiminy kick it!” Lesya scowled at the Intare as she tried to mimic me.

Kirill, her proud papa, was shaking with repressed laughter. He usually wore a more stoic expression, but our daughter was proving to be a remedy for that... which made me very proud. I was an avid supporter of humor; the more inappropriate the timing, the better. And if it made my brooding, black lion happy, I more than supported it; I encouraged and applauded it.

“Aidan,” I went on after winking at Lesya, “why is it always you?”

“Because I was born to entertain, Tima,” Aidan bowed; unabashedly taking credit—not blame—for the mayhem his brother lions were accusing him of. “Are you not entertained?” Aidan said in a booming voice as he held his arms out and turned slowly in a circle.

“Despite your wonderful Gladiator reference, no; I am not entertained, Aidan,” I growled.

“Tima, I didn't actually cut Rex's hair,” Aidan whined; the gladiator gone in an instant. “I just made it look as if I had. He acts like he's Sampson, striding about, flinging that hair in our faces. I just wanted—”

A screeching interrupted Aidan's defense, and we all went still. Every eye focused on the doorway; the origin of the sound. We were in the Common Room; where we were holding our monthly mediating meeting—Triple M for short—and the noise had echoed in from the hallway. The cry came again, and we all stood; preparing for the attack. It sounded avian, though I wasn't sure what kind. Whatever it was, it should not have ventured into a lion's den. These tom cats loved chasing birds.

A white owl soared through the doorway; making the men duck momentarily. The owl's wingspan was close to five feet, and it had to pull its feathers in to get through the doorway. The bird glided over the startled lions and headed straight for me. Every eye focused on the bird sharply... and then the Pride attacked.

You can't just rush through a pride of werelions and head straight for their lioness; harmless bird or not. The action itself is seen as a threat, and lions don't take well to their Tima being threatened. They all started to shift into their animal forms as they tracked the bird. Luckily for the owl, I recognized him and held up a restraining hand before the Intare had themselves a fowl snack.

“Stand down!” I shouted. “It's Athena's owl; Aleksanteri!”

The owl—who had just noticed the danger he was in—swung about, shrieking in fright, and landed on the back of my chair. He brought his wings in tight to his body and tried to hide behind me. This was impossible since the chair I occupied had a high back, and I was a short woman. But the lions eased down and settled; their faces shifting to purely human again.

A sigh of relief whistled through the owl's beak; though it was hard to hear over Lesya's laughter. My daughter was bouncing on Kirill's lap, beyond excited by all the action.

“Birdy!” Lesya shouted as she tried to climb up her father to reach the owl.

“Lesya,” Kirill said in a calm tone, “be still. The owl is a friend of Mommy's.”

Lesya looked back and forth from her father and the bird, then settled her confused stare on me. She blinked her huge, ocean blue eyes at me, and I shook my head. That cute cub routine wasn't working on me anymore. I had moved past the give her anything she wants because she's so damn cute portion of my parenting and moved onto the I know your tricks, little lioness.

“Sorry, Alex,” I said to the owl as I ignored my adorable daughter, “but we weren't expecting you. Give us some warning next time.”

“My lady sent me,” Alex said defensively. “I didn't expect to have to outmaneuver hungry lions.”

“They had breakfast; they aren't hungry. It's simply the fact that you're avian and they're felines.” I shrugged. “Why did Athena send you to me anyway?”

“I am to deliver this invitation to you, Godhunter.” Alex fluffed his feathers proudly and lifted his leg; there was a rolled up paper attached to it.

“An invitation?” I asked with a lifted brow. “Not a summons?”

“No trial this time,” the owl sounded amused. “And may I say that you handled the traitor beautifully. Is it true that you beat Eros with his own arm?”

“It is,” I verified. “I had made myself a promise, and I try to keep my promises.”

“As you should. Promises are important; especially those to oneself.” He nodded in approval. “If you cannot be true to yourself, then you cannot be true at all.”

“Very wise,” I noted in surprise.

“Owl,” Alex said in a duh tone. He spread his wings and shook them; as if to emphasize what he was.

Lesya giggled again.

“She's lovely,” Alex said dryly.

“Thank you,” I pretended not to notice Alex's sarcasm as I untied the rolled parchment from his leg. “And thank you for this as well.”

“I'm to instruct you to send your reply via texting message,” Alex intoned.

“Athena wants me to text her?” I smirked.

“My mistress has included her cellular phone number on the invitation.” The owl nodded his head toward the paper.

I unrolled the parchment and  read it. Then I sighed dramatically and looked at Kirill and Azrael. My other husbands were out of the territory—handling their affairs—so it was only the two of them on Vervain duty. My lion and my angel lifted their brows in unison.

“I feel like Harry Potter.” I handed the parchment to Azrael. “I just got my acceptance letter from Hogwarts.”

“What drivel are you spouting?” Alex cocked his head at me in the disturbing way of owls. “What have pots and hogs go to do with it?”

“You are the drivel,” I shot back. “A messenger owl with an invitation. It's very pop culture.”

“Now, something has popped?” Alex was even more confused.

“Never mind.” I waved off any further questions. “Please tell Athena that I will text her as soon as I've made my decision.”

“As you wish, Godhunter.” Aleksanteri, the Owl of Olympus, spread his wings and launched into the air without further ado.

I started humming the Harry Potter theme music, and my lions laughed their furry asses off. That was one thing I could count on them for; they always got my movie references.

“They want her to be an Olympian,” Azrael said to Kirill with amusement. “Athena has formally asked our wife to take Aphrodite's place on the Council.”

“Vhat vill you do?” Kirill asked me as he absently bounced Lesya.

Lesya grabbed Kirill's long braid and slapped it on his chest like reins. Kirill calmly ignored her.

“Hades if I know.” I sighed. “For now, let's finish this meeting. Then I can decide whether or not I have time to do the same sort of thing for the Greeks.”