Much like Hybrasil, Neratiti was an island that couldn’t be found unless the one who called it home allowed it to be seen. It was kept shrouded and sacrosanct from the world because he who reigned here had even less tolerance for mankind and fey and gods than Illarion.
In fact, Savitar made Illarion appear downright extroverted in comparison. But Illarion was a little different from most, and the blood flowing through his veins could find the elusive island even through Savitar’s powerful shields.
It was something that seriously pissed off the ancient being who was lying adrift on a surfboard not that far from the island’s shore.
With one leg bent and resting on the board while the other dangled into the water, Savitar groaned out loud the moment he saw Illarion in the sky above him.
“You better be doing a flyby, dragon, and not planning to drop in and destroy my zen.”
Illarion disregarded the warning and lightly skimmed the water so as not to make large waves until he came to a gentle rest beside the cranky Chthonian. Floating on top of the surface, he remained in his full dragon form and tucked his wings in at his side. He towered over Savitar, and while that might intimidate someone else, it didn’t do anything other than annoy the former protector for Atlantis.
Just think of me as your personal giant rubber duckie.
“Heh.” With his entire muscular body covered in colorful tattoos, Savitar was a complete enigma. No one knew where he’d been born or when—he refused to comment on it. His lyrical accent was so old that no one could identify it. But there were times when Illarion thought he detected a hint of Lemurian.
All Illarion knew for certain was that Savitar predated him, and that over thirty-six hundred years ago when the Were-Hunter race had been created after the god Dagon had fused Illarion’s life force with that of an Arcadian prince, and Illarion’s brother Max’s with the prince’s half brother who’d been born of a slave, Savitar, alone, had run interference with the gods to spare them all a death sentence for Dagon’s hubris. A hubris borne from Dagon’s defiant need to spare the king’s children from a spiteful curse that had been unjustly levelled against their mother’s entire race by the Greek god Apollo centuries before their births, after a handful of Apollites had murdered his mistress and son out of jealousy.
Only a Chthonian had the powers and authority to make the gods back down. And for reasons only Savitar knew, he more than any other Chthonian in history seemed to enjoy exercising that ability—especially against the three Greek Fates. There was no denying or ignoring the fact that he had a hard-on for them that no one understood.
It was that grudge Illarion was hoping to exploit today.
You told me once that I could ask a favor.
Savitar growled low in his throat. “As I recall, that was directed more toward your brother than you, as you weren’t particularly cooperative that day when the offer was made. If memory serves, and it does, you wanted the Arcadians and Katagaria put down.”
Well … not all.
Snorting, Savitar passed an irritated grimace at him with those eerie lavender eyes. “True. You did want yourself and Max spared. The rest … not so much.”
Do you blame me?
“Not really. And you’re lucky I share your feelings toward most of the world. Now what brings you to these treacherous waters, my little rubber dragon?”
I found a woman.
Savitar cocked a brow at that. “What? None of your brothers ever had a sex talk with you? Well … it’s not a hard concept to master. Simply put, tab A goes into slot B.”
Illarion rolled his eyes and shook his head. You enjoy playing the asshole, don’t you?
“One of the few pleasures left in my long, insufferable life. I hear from Max that you partake of it quite a bit yourself.”
He couldn’t really deny that in good faith. Anyway, back to the topic at hand … I want to bond with her.
Savitar went stock-still. He didn’t even breathe. In fact, he held it for so long that Illarion began to fear the bastard was dead.
Finally, he blinked slowly. Then let out an elongated sigh. “Do you understand what you’re asking me to do?”
Illarion nodded.
“I don’t think you do, dragonet. You think you know, but you really have no clue.” He turned his head to pin him with a hostile glare. “The madness we, the damned, find when we seek salvation. We’re so desperate for some semblance of sanity that we will take whatever shred of it we can find—to hell with the consequences. Even if I were to tell you the price you would ultimately pay for it, you’d still tell me it doesn’t matter. For you can only see the angel in her eyes today. The succor you currently hold. Maybe the price for it will be worth it in the end. I certainly hope for your sake that’s true.”
Illarion went cold at those dire words of warning that sent an icy dagger skimming up his spine. What do you see?
“You know I can only see what currently is, and all what could be. I won’t see the absolute, final path until after I bind you. Then it’ll be too late to undo it. But given the myriad of possibilities of what I see … not sure I’d chance it.”
Which was why Savitar stayed secluded here where he could impact no one’s future and see nothing of the world around him or his part in anyone’s life. His curse that immobilized him was to be damned to see every single outcome. To know everything, except the one final truth.
That he could only see once it was too late to stop it. Once the inevitable course was laid and irreversible.
Yeah, Savitar must have really pissed off the wrong god at some point in his life for that to be his fate.
Savitar sat up. “So … how suicidal are you?”
She makes me laugh.
“Suicide for the win. You poor bastard.”
Illarion gave him a dry stare. Have you never had a woman you would do anything for?
“Oh yeah. Got the scars to prove it. Inside and out. I’d tell you to get out before it’s too late, but I can see that you’re already drowning in that stupidity. Damn, Dragon … damn.” A deep, dark sadness descended over Savitar’s features.
At least you get to piss off the Greek Fates.
A slow, insidious smile curved Savitar’s lips before he laughed deep in his belly. “True. How many times do I have to tell you and your brother that you should lead with that whenever you want a favor from me, as it’s one of the few things I truly find motivational?” Savitar slid off his board, to float in the water. “I will do this for you. But remember, little dragon, from a thorn comes a rose, and from a rose comes a thorn.”
Meaning?
“With all good comes an equal share of bad. Savor your happiness while you have it. Let her be your balm and beware those who seek to divide you.”
Another chill of foreboding went down his spine at those words. Aye, there was something the Chthonian was withholding. A dark harbinger was stalking them.
But Illarion refused to let fear rule him. He’d never been a coward in any matter. And while he knew that an iron rod bent while hot, he wasn’t rushing into this. He’d been alone his entire life.
Thousands of years.
No woman had ever touched him like this. Edilyn was like no other. And he would never feel this way again. As Savitar had said, all things ended.
If he had to die, he wanted it to be for his rose.
She was his heart. If need be, he’d carve it from his own chest and hand it to her.
* * *
“Edilyn?”
With a curse under her breath, Edilyn froze as she heard Virag’s voice in her head. She started to ignore him, but she knew she couldn’t just vanish and not tell him what had happened to her. She wasn’t quite the jerk he was. “What?”
“Where are you?”
She glanced around the walls of her bedroom, where she sat alone. “At Illarion’s.”
He paused for a long time before he spoke again. “Why can’t I visit?”
She scoffed at his ridiculous question. “Why do you think? You’re forbidden to come here.”
“You’re serious?”
“Aye! Now, go away before he returns and hears you.”
“He left you alone?”
By the saints, why had she told him that? She could kick her own posterior for being so foolish.
“Virag! Go away! He’ll be back any moment and he’ll be furious. You’ve done enough harm.”
“I’m your brother!”
She hugged her pillow against her as guilt rose up. But she refused to let it overwhelm her. She had nothing to be remorseful over. “You stole from him!”
“I had no choice!”
She scoffed at his sorry excuse for an apology. “We all have choices. You made a bad one.”
“So that’s it then? After all these years of protecting you, caring for you, you throw me out?”
“Nay!” How dare he put that off on her. “You did this yourself! Don’t you even attempt to blame me! Not when you’re the thief and caused this!”
“Then you choose his life over mine? Really?”
Edilyn froze. “What are you talking about?”
“If I don’t hand over your dragon, Edilyn, the fey queen will kill me.”
“You’re still lying!”
“Nay, I am not. And you need to decide, little girl, whose life you value most—the dragon you just met, or the brother who has spent these past years giving up everything to keep you safe. It’s me or him. You have to choose, because only one of us can survive this.”