“You shouldn’t be here.”

Urian swallowed hard at his father’s words. “She’s my wife, Solren. I owe her this honor.”

Yet as he moved forward to light the pyre where Sheba’s washed and shrouded body had been placed and her eyes covered with coins, he stumbled. Paris and his father caught him.

Grateful, Urian didn’t argue as they assisted him toward the tall structure that Apollymi had used her powers to build in the center courtyard, where the damned had once been tortured under the iron fist of the Atlantean god Misos.

And perhaps they still were. He certainly felt like it tonight as he climbed up to do his final duty for Sheba. For he was emotionally wrecked. Physically weak. Gutted.

Too young to be this tired and defeated.

Tears filled his eyes as he saw the beautiful corpse of a once proud queen. Dressed in her white orichalcum armor, she appeared to be at peace finally.

Dressed in white to honor and mourn her, Urian kissed the mavyllo—Apollymi’s sacred black rose—and placed it in Sheba’s hands, which held her sword. “You were ever a great and mighty warrior. A beautiful lady and an inspiration to us all. I shall miss your company every day I live without it.”

With those words spoken, he climbed down. Then he and Paris and his wife’s two remaining bodyguards shot lit arrows up to set fire to her perch. Silent tears of guilt and anger fell as he watched the hungry flames take root and spread over the structure.

His father clapped him on the back and pulled him close. “We shall avenge her.”

How? Rumors claimed it was Helios behind the attack. Yet another god out to end them. Which made sense given the armor he’d seen on their attackers.

The only question was why? Sheba and her people had stayed out of Greek territory for the most part. There’d been no reason for a Greek god to strike against the Marzanni.

It made no sense.

Through his own pain, Urian heard his children crying. Pulling away from his father, he went to Geras and knelt by his side. The boy threw himself into Urian’s arms so that he could weep there. Urian closed his eyes and held him.

“It’s all right, Geramou.”

“What if they’d killed you, Baba!”

He kissed the boy’s cheek. “Your baba doesn’t go down easy. It’ll take more than a Greek god to bring me low.”

Nephele didn’t speak. She merely fisted her hands in his hair and held on to him as if afraid to let go.

“Goodness, child. Why do you tremble so?”

Still not a single sound from her.

Worried about her, Urian let go of Geras so that he could stand and pull her closer. “Neph?”

Her lips quivered, but she kept them pressed tightly together as she wound her fists in his cloak. Urian held her by his side, assuming she was merely upset like her brother over the fact that he’d been badly injured and that they’d barely escaped the raid.

No one else spoke until after the fire began to burn low. And not until after the pyre had collapsed. Only then did Apollymi’s Charonte come in to finish the ceremony where Sheba’s remains would be gathered and taken to Apollymi’s sacred garden to be scattered in her orchard.

The same garden and orchard where Xyn lived.

He still hadn’t seen her and he was hurt that she hadn’t come for this. In truth, he’d expected her in the crowd. She’d always shown before whenever he needed her.

Never had she failed him.

Until today.

But as he lost count of how many came up to him to share their condolences, she wasn’t among them. And it hurt so badly that it was almost unfathomable. Indeed, he felt gutted. And the faces of the others and their words were lost to his own grief as he mumbled what he hoped was an appropriate response.

He remembered nothing really. Just the smell of pungent ash that stung his throat and burned his eyes. The hollow ache in his gut. And the deep stinging pain of a friend who couldn’t be bothered to put aside their spiteful words to check on him.

“Come on, m’gios. You should rest.”

This time, Urian didn’t protest when his father took him home.

Paris was the first to ask the insensitive question everyone else had avoided around Urian. “Why didn’t Sheba decay like we do when we die?”

Theo punched him in the arm. “God, you’re an asshole! Have some brains! Your brother’s in pain and you’d ask him that? Seriously? What is wrong with you?” He grimaced at Urian. “Say the word and I’ll beat his ass.”

Urian sighed. “It’s okay. Truth is, I don’t know why they don’t. I think it’s because of Koshchei the Deathless. He’s a trickster god. Would make sense that he wants to play havoc with Apollo. That’s my theory anyway.”

He entered his father’s home and drew up short at the sight of a group of his wife’s guards. A small remnant of those who’d survived their attack. “Small” being the operative word.

So few had been left. A pathetic number, really.

They immediately bowed to him.

Urian frowned. “Why are you here, Kisha?”

The tallest blonde came forward with a blue-tinted bottle. “We have nowhere else to go, Majesty. They’ve destroyed our home. Annihilated our people. You are still our king. We await your orders.”

How weird … he hadn’t considered that they would look to him for leadership and guidance. Especially since Sheba had never treated him as anything more than a favored decoration.

He glanced over to his father. For the first time in a long while, he felt like a child again. Like a lost little boy. A part of him wanted to ask his father what to do, if he should stay or go, but he curbed that petulant child and forced himself to meet his father like an equal.

Urian knew what to do. Most of all, he knew what Sheba’s people needed.

“Do I have your permission to bring our survivors here, Solren?”

His father appeared offended by the question.

So be it. Urian took the bottle. “We shall find a place to rebuild.”

“Are you insane?” his father snapped. “Of course you can stay here! I glared at you because I couldn’t believe you thought you had to ask me for something that was a given. You know that you’re always welcomed in my home.”

Oh. Now he felt even dumber than he had a moment ago. Shaking his head, Urian glanced back to Kisha. “Send for the others and we’ll see them settled.”

“Thank you, Majesty.” With another bow, she and the others rose and quickly left.

As soon as they were gone, his brothers and father stepped closer to examine his bottle.

“What is it?”

“Did they bring you blood?”

Urian smiled wistfully at their curiosity as he remembered the first time Sheba had served it to him. “Sort of.” He uncorked it. “It’s blood mead. They also have sanguine wine. And yes, even Apollites can drink this. You’ll like it. Trust me.” He took a drink directly from the bottle, then passed it over to them.

In the beginning, they were skittish, but once they tasted the wine, they had the same reaction he’d had the first time he’d tried it. Utter delight, followed by gluttony as no Apollite or Daimon had ever known such before. Normally whenever they tried to eat or drink anything other than each other’s blood, their bodies rejected it—courtesy of his grandfather Apollo.

Food and drink made them violently ill.

Not this. Somehow, Sheba’s brewers had found a way to mix the right proportions so that their bodies would accept the drink, just as if they’d never been cursed.

It was wonderful to finally have some form of variety to their diets.

All of a sudden, they heard a loud commotion outside, punctuated by angry shouting and a lot of threats of bodily harm to anyone who didn’t withdraw immediately. Fury darkened his father’s eyes, but Urian recognized the deep cadence of that unmistakable baritone. “Wait!”

Urian teleported outside in time to see the massive beast of a warrior about to take the heads off the three Daimons who were dumb enough to confront him because they assumed this belligerent newcomer was a trelos in their midst.

Not that Urian blamed them. Given his rage and demeanor, it would be a natural assumption.

But this was no trelos.

He was something a whole lot deadlier.

Almost seven feet tall, with golden-blond hair, he made a fierce sight. His muscled shoulders would be wide enough on their own, but covered with armor and war-matted furs, those shoulders promised a crushing blow to anyone who angered this beast of a man. And it was only part of the reason why he’d been termed the Widowmaker.

Well that, and the two massive double-headed axes strapped to his back that he was not only a master of using, but way too quick to make use of.

And usually for no other reason than he was mildly perturbed.

Curling his lips, the Widowmaker headed for the first Daimon who neared him.

“Ruyn!” Urian shouted. “Halt!”

He hesitated as if he still wanted a piece of the one who’d annoyed him, then turned slowly to face Urian. “Where’s my sister?”

Urian flinched at the pain-filled question and hated that he had to be the one to gut the man who loved his sister dearly. Choking on his guilt, he closed the distance between them. “I’m sorry.”

The agony that haunted those steel-blue eyes was searing. Of all the people in the world, Ruyn had loved Sheba more than anyone. She was all the family he had.

Throwing his head back, he let loose a thunderous, pain-filled roar.

One that caused several of their men to rush forward.

Urian held his hand up to stop them. Then he shook his head. “I should have sent word to you. Again, I’m so sorry.”

Before he could respond, they were joined by his father, who eyed Ruyn suspiciously. “Who is this?”

“Sheba’s half brother Ruyn.” Urian had barely spoken those words before Apollymi appeared in her full Destroyer form. Black on black, with her red eyes glowing. Hurricane-force winds swept through the whole of Kalosis, knocking most of them to the ground and sending bodies flying.

Stryker caught Urian to keep him from being harmed and anchored them to the side of a building with his powers.

But what stunned and shocked Urian most was a sight he’d never seen before. Faster than anyone could blink, Ruyn manifested a long wooden staff that he planted in the ground at his feet. At the top was a silver hand holding an oblong ball that opened to reveal a large green eye.

From an indefinable source, a low-pitched cry built to a shrill war cry that drove the goddess back. More than that, it forced all the Charonte with her to their knees. A bright orange light shot out from the center of the eye, in all directions. It glowed as bright as a sun and it caused the Daimons and Apollites to shrink away in total fear.

Only then did Ruyn lift it over his head so that he could scan them all.

He turned a slow circle, as if looking through the crowd for someone who might attack him. Once he was satisfied that everyone was quelled, he turned back toward Apollymi.

She was once again pale and frigid in her appearance.

“I come in peace, Apollymi.”

Urian arched a brow at the strange way he pronounced her name. It sounded more like “Apple-me,” instead of their way, “Uh-PAUL-low-may.”

She sneered at him. “Yet you dare to ground my Charonte? What kind of peace is that?”

Ruyn offered her a charming grin. “I’m the son of a demon, am I not?”

Her look turned to ice. “You are indeed. And every bit as worthless and treacherous.”

His humor died instantly as hatred settled across his face and turned his features to stone. “There is no need to be insulting. You and my father were allies once.”

“And when I needed him most, he turned his back.” She spat on the ground at Ruyn’s feet. “You’re lucky he cares nothing for you. Otherwise I’d send you back to him in pieces.”

Urian didn’t miss the pain those cruel words caused to flare inside Ruyn’s eyes. A deep-seated torment he quickly hid.

“Again, my quarrel is not with you, goddess. I only wanted to pay respects to my sister and her husband.”

She flung her hand out and this time her powers lashed across him like a razor whip, cutting deep into his flesh and leaving his clothes split and his body bleeding. “You ever breach my portal again without an invitation or key, dog, and I will send your head home to your father and your heart to your mother.”

To his credit, Ruyn barely reacted to the pain of that blow, which had to be agonizing. Rather he stood stalwart before the angry goddess and inclined his head. “Understood.”

And then he had the audacity to turn his back on her and walk toward Urian, who didn’t miss the white-knuckled grip he had on his staff that said he was barely keeping his temper in check.

Pushing himself away from his father, Urian moved closer to his brother-in-law. “I’m sorry, Ru.”

He wiped at the blood on his chest and shrugged. “I can handle physical pain.” Glancing back at Apollymi, he curled his lip. “Hers is no better or worse than my own mother’s loving touch.” Then his gaze turned stormy again. “Did Sheba suffer?”

“Nay. The attack was too quick.” Urian removed the necklace he wore that had belonged to his wife and handed it to Ruyn. A strange blending of her family, the amulet was a design of Thor’s hammer with a wolf and raven. “She would want you to have this more than me.” Urian tightened his grip in Ruyn’s hand. “I’ll also cede kingship to you. By all rights, it’s more yours than mine and I know she’d much rather see you as the leader of her people.”

Tears gathered in Ruyn’s eyes. His hand trembled. “Why would you give up a throne?”

He smiled. “I’m Greek. Apollymian. The Marzanni were Sheba’s. And I know what you did.” He projected his thoughts to Ruyn. Sheba told me the sacrifice you made so that she could live longer in spite of Apollo’s curse. What you did to save her tribe. He tightened his hand on Ruyn’s. “As Sheba said, we will always be allies. You and I will always be brothers, and while I may fight with my brothers over trivial things, I will never screw one over. Especially not for something as inconsequential as a throne.”

Ruyn yanked him forward into his embrace and held him for a long minute.

Urian felt his hot tears as he silently wept. With a ragged breath, Ruyn pounded Urian twice on his back and stepped away to clear his throat and wipe at his eyes.

Gruffly, he pulled his own necklace off and extended it toward Urian. “That is my mark. You need me, brother, you call and I will come. No matter what. No matter when.” He chucked Urian on the arm. “Remember, all roads lead to Ruyn.”

Urian snorted at his bad pun.

Then he sobered and cut a dark, serious grimace toward Urian’s family. “And let me leave you with one bit of advice, little brother, as I’ve lived a lot longer than both of you. Remember that you serve your goddess today. But loyalty given is seldom returned. Take it from a survivor of the Primus Bellum. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter who we swear our fealty to, we’re just a bunch of demons to them. Useless things they will cast off and leave to die without a second thought. Me, Caleb, Dagon, Shadow, Xev … countless others. They thought nothing of us. Yet we sacrificed everything we had to the Kalosum to make sure they’d win—even though we were born to serve the darkness of the Mavromino, we fought for the Kalosum’s light. In the end, those who were supposed to be good, who were supposed to reward us for our service and had promised to do so, turned their backs on us and chose not to see us for who and what we really are. Instead of looking into our hearts and seeing what we’d given and lost, they threw us aside like garbage. When all was said and done, they were no better than the ones they’d hated, and for all the reasons they hated the other side. So be careful where you lay your trust, and twice as careful who you serve. It’s not so much don’t bite the hand that feeds you as to make sure you sever your master’s hand before it has a chance to strike you down for no reason other than they judge you unworthy of breathing their air.”

Ruyn sighed as he settled Sheba’s necklace over his heart. “It is ever the saddest indictment against humanity that they cannot live in peace. Too many believe the path to happiness can only be achieved by walking over those around them. When the truth is so much simpler.”

“If you can’t be happy alone, you’ll never be happy in a crowd.” Urian said the words before Ruyn had a chance, as they were something Sheba had often spoken to him. It was the philosophy their mother had raised them on.

Ruyn nodded. “If you can’t stand yourself, why should you expect anyone else to? And if you seek to cause harm to others, it will always return to cause harm to you.”

He was right about that.

“Take care of yourself, little brother. I hope we meet again.” And with that, he was gone.

While everyone slowly and nervously dispersed, Apollymi made her way toward Urian.

“How is your son, Strykerius?”

His father rubbed his back. “As well as can be expected.”

“He looks as if he needs to feed.”

Urian felt his face heat up at those words, given their personal nature. At least that was the one good thing to come out of his two marriages …

No one feared feeding him anymore. He now had women lining up to give him their blood.

Men, too.

And not just Davyn. It was actually quite disconcerting how many wanted a piece of him.

“I’m fine, akra.”

“If you have a moment, then, I should like to ask you about your attack.”

His father opened his mouth to protest, but Urian interrupted. “I’ll be fine, Solren. Just a moment.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded.

His father reluctantly allowed Urian to follow Apollymi back to her palace.

She didn’t speak until they were alone inside the marbled walls and out of the sight of prying eyes. Then she turned to face him with a probing stare. “Was it Helios, as they claim?”

“It could have been. But in all honestly, the attack was swift and fierce. I barely saw it before I was down.”

She cursed under her breath. “Keep your eyes peeled, Urian. There is much danger around us. Already, I’ve found one traitor and killed them.”

“For Helios?”

She nodded. “He’s after your grandfather and Rezar.”

He scowled at her words. While he understood why the Titan sun god would want to kill Apollo, who’d replaced him—there was no one alive who didn’t understand and know about that grudge match—Rezar was different. One of the oldest primal gods, he should have the powers to destroy Helios. Why would the Titan be so stupid as to pick a fight he couldn’t win? “I don’t understand.”

“And it’s good that you don’t. That will keep you alive. Just know that if you hear anything more about Helios, bring it to me.”

“Always, akra.”

“Good. Now go.”

Urian started away, then hesitated. “Before I go, may I ask one thing?”

She arched a brow at that.

“The dragon who guards your garden?”

Her eyes flashed red. “You needn’t worry over her anymore. She’s no longer here.” And with that, she vanished.

Those clipped words hit him like daggers through his flesh. They were a staggering blow that caused him to step back as he reeled from pain.

Gone?

How could Xyn be gone?

Urian stood without moving as he tried to come to grips with what Apollymi had just told him. A million questions ran through his head.

Had she died? Been killed?

What the hell did Apollymi mean she was no longer there?

Unable to accept that, he teleported to Sarraxyn’s cave so that he could see for himself what was going on. And to make sure it was the truth. Because honestly, he couldn’t accept it. He refused to accept it.

Until he saw the truth with his own eyes.

Her cave was empty.

She was gone and there was no trace left of his once beautiful dragon. Not a scale. Not a scuff on the floor. It was as if she’d never been.

And that tore his heart asunder. It bled pain through every molecule of his body. How could this have happened? Tears blinded him as his memories slammed into him and he cursed himself for not coming home sooner to see her.

For not ever apologizing.

She was human and I treated her like shit.

Hurt and wounded, he felt so guilty for everything he’d ever said or done. How could he have let them part like this? She’d been so important to him. Why hadn’t he told her that?

Just once?

I am an asshole.

Regret burned so deep inside him for everything that had gone unsaid. He’d hurt her and now there was no way to make amends.

Never harm a heart that loves you, for there are too many in this world that are out to cause you pain. His mother’s words haunted him now. She’d been right.

He’d wounded Xyn and for what? His own vanity?

My own stupidity.

For that, he deserved to be alone. Because in his heart, he knew he’d never have anyone else who could come close to his dragon. How could he? It wasn’t every day a guy met a woman who had those kinds of skills.

A woman who made him feel like he could fly. Whose smile made his heart sing.

How could he have given that up for anything?

Cold and alone, he’d started to leave when he caught a strange glimmer in the corner. Scowling, he headed toward it to see what it was.

How odd … Embedded in the wall of the cave was the small necklace Xyn always wore. She’d called it her dragon’s tear.

And in a small leather bag was a folded note. His hands shook as he unfolded it and then began to read the sweet, flowing script.

Unable to bear the guilt and pain, Urian closed his eyes and choked on his tears. He sank to his knees and cursed himself for having left in anger.

What have I done?

How could I have been so stupid?

She was a dragon. There was no way he’d ever be able to find her again.