Entwined

Chapter Seventeen

What was taking so long?

With one arm wrapped around her waist, Callia chewed on her thumbnail and paced the corridor outside the Council chambers. Her nerves were in high gear. Sickness welled in her stomach. There’d been some kind of commotion in the chamber just after she’d left the room, but Casey hadn’t let her go in and now she was going out of her mind wondering what the hell was happening.

Just when she was ready to plow through the wall to see what was going on, the chamber door pulled open and Titus stepped through the small opening.

He closed the door quickly at his back. Didn’t look happy. If anything, he looked pissed and…seriously disturbed. He moved to stand in front of her, but he didn’t speak.

“Where is Zander?” Callia asked.

“Inside. He can’t…” Titus paused. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to talk to him just yet.”

What the hell did that mean? Callia’s nerves jumped. “Titus, what did my father say in there?”

He looked down at her hands, now hanging by her sides, hesitated, then reached for them. He winced when he touched her, and she remembered the way he’d gone down to his knees in the cave when he’d touched her then. He never touched anyone—not on purpose—so the fact he was initiating contact now sent her anxiety into the out-of-this-world category. “Titus?”

He drew in a deep breath and focused on her hands. “Callia, he made a deal to save your life. You…There were complications during the delivery. He says if he hadn’t done it, you would have died.”

“What kind of deal?”

His eyes came up level with hers. Hazel eyes that saw so much and yet not enough. “Your life for your son’s.”

Her life. One for another. The truth she’d dreaded was real. “So he really is dead.”

“I…”

The unease across his face drew her eyebrows together. “Titus, what?”

“Simon doesn’t know. The child was…alive…when the god left with him. He hasn’t seen either since.”

Her chest squeezed so tight she gasped. Her baby had been alive. He hadn’t died on that Greek mountain, in the middle of an earthquake, as she’d been led to believe. How could she not have known? Why hadn’t she felt it? And what would any god want with her child?

“Who?” she asked. “Who was it?”

“Callia—”

“Don’t placate me, Titus.” She wrenched her hands from his grip. “Tell me who it was.”

His jaw twitched, and she saw in his eyes that he didn’t want to tell her, but finally he said, “Atalanta.”

Her vision turned red and her pulse pounded in her veins. Before he could stop her, she flung the double doors open and spotted her father, still standing in the center of the circle, eyes wide and afraid as she advanced on him.

“Callia,” Titus called at her back. “Wait—”

“Callia,” Simon said, holding his hands up. “Just listen to what I have to say.”

“You son of a bitch. How could you?”

Voices echoed around her. She was aware there were other people in the room and that they were shouting, but she couldn’t make out their words. All she felt was pain. All she saw was betrayal. All she knew was the one person she’d trusted had done the unspeakable.

Arms locked tight around her waist and pulled her back. She struggled, but they were made of steel and unrelenting. The buzz in her head made it hard to hear, but the haze over her vision was dimming, and slowly she realized her father was on his knees, his face red and scratched.

“Calm down, Callia,” Titus hissed in her ear. She zeroed in on her father’s face. She’d hit him. Hard, from the looks of it.

Her father lifted his head. Guilt and remorse reflected deeply in his eyes. “You have to understand, it was the only thing I could do.”

She braced her hands against the arm wrapped around her waist and tried to push free. “You gave my son to a monster!”

Her father shook his head. Dropped it. “I know. I know. But you would have died otherwise. And the child. I thought he was dead.”

“He was alive!”

“I…” He cringed. “I didn’t know that until they left. You have to believe me.”

Disgust roiled through her. Contempt for his words. But as she stared at her father, kneeling on the Alpha seal in the center of the circle with Lucian behind him and all of the Argonauts watching, the red haze dissipated. And her image of him as the honorable and unbreakable lord dissolved too.

Her body still vibrated, but she stopped fighting Titus. He whispered something in her ear, something she didn’t hear, then slowly eased her to the floor. But he didn’t completely let go of her, and from the corner of her eye she saw Theron was holding Zander back in the same way. And she realized that was why he hadn’t come out to talk to her as he’d promised.

“Why?” she asked, focusing on her father once more. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Simon shook his head. “I couldn’t. It was part of the agreement. She put a curse on you that limited your lifespan if I ever uttered a word to you about it.”

She glanced at Zander, who still looked ready to commit murder. Zander was the only other one who’d known she was pregnant, and her father had effectively separated them so no one would know what had happened.

The rage washed out of her, leaving behind pity and disdain.

“Let go of me, Titus,” she mumbled. “I’m not going to attack him again.”

Titus let go and stepped back, but he didn’t go far.

“Why me?” Callia asked her father. “Why my child? The Argonauts have been reproducing for thousands of years. What was so special about my baby?”

Her father sat back on his heels, reached up and rubbed two shaky hands over his face. If it was possible to look more guilty, he did then. But he didn’t answer. And in the silence dread pooled in Callia’s stomach.

“What else aren’t you telling me?” she asked hesitantly.

“I loved your mother,” Simon muttered. “When she died…”

Callia had been only seven when Anna had died. The Royal Healer had succumbed to something as ordinary as pneumonia. And her with a stronger immune system than most. It had never made sense. But looking back, a lot then hadn’t made sense. Something had happened between her parents. Something that had broken Anna’s will to live and tainted their marriage.

She stared into her father’s sad eyes as her mind spun. Why would Atalanta want her son over the hundreds of other Argonaut offspring over the years? Only one answer made sense.

“You’re not my real father, are you?”

Simon’s eyes fell closed. She ignored the pain in his features because right now she didn’t care. Right now there were more important things to discuss.

“Who?” she asked. “Who did she have an affair with?” She glanced around the room. “One of the Argonauts? You’ve hated them for so long. Was that why you didn’t want me to be with Zander?”

Unease churned in her stomach as her gaze settled on Zander, still being restrained by Theron. He was the oldest of the Argonauts, and he had probably known her mother, but her instinct said it hadn’t been him. She glanced at the others. They were all at least two hundred years old. She was only forty. It could be any one of them. It made sense. Argonaut lineage from both sides. Would that give a child enhanced powers?

“I…” Her father’s broken voice pulled her attention his way again. He sniffled. Swiped his forearm over his face. “If Anna hadn’t been a healer, none of this would have happened.”

Callia froze. And links, connections, threads she’d had no idea were entwined became crystal clear. The skin on the back of her neck, right at the base of her hairline, tingled.

She ran her fingers up under her hair, over the marking Lena had pointed out when she’d been at the colony. The one that was oddly…like the one on Isadora’s thigh.

“She had an affair with the king,” she whispered. Her gaze shot to Casey, standing at her right. Then to Isadora, across the room.

“Callia.” Her father pushed up to his feet. Held his hands out toward her. “I’m still your father. What she did…that doesn’t change anything.”

Didn’t change anything? Um, yeah. It changed everything. Panic pushed its way up Callia’s chest. Panic and a sense that everything was about to crash down around her.

She turned for the door before anyone could stop her. She needed air. She needed a second to herself. She needed…shit…she didn’t know what she needed.

“Callia!”

She wasn’t sure how she made it out of the chamber, but she was sprinting when she hit the corridor. She paused to get her bearings, spotted a sign halfway down the hall and was inside the plush female sitting room before she even realized her feet had moved.

One whole wall was filled with floor-to-ceiling mirrors. She stared at her reflection, then whipped around and lifted her hair, tried to peer over her shoulder at the marking on her neck. The small but unmistakable winged omega.

The door to the bathroom pushed open. In the reflection Callia caught Casey’s gaze fixed on her neck. She dropped her hair and turned.

“Are you okay?”

Was she okay? Yeah. Not likely. “You tell me. I just found out a demigod with a bad case of revenge kidnapped my son because he’s the heir to the throne of Argolea. Would you be okay?”

Casey’s expression softened. Dark hair fell over her shoulders, but her violet eyes were very clear and very familiar. “I know what you’re going through.”

Callia huffed. “Yeah, you know? I don’t think so.” It wasn’t that she didn’t like the half-breed, it was that right now she had a thousand other things to deal with besides getting chummy with her long-lost half-sister.

The bathroom door pushed open again and this time Isadora came inside. Only she didn’t look half as concerned as Casey.

“Lovely,” Callia said as she took in Isadora’s tense face. “We might as well just have a party.” Her headache kicked up and she rubbed at the spot between her eyes.

Casey looked toward the princess. “She’s got the mark. On her neck.”

“Let me see.” Isadora stepped closer.

“Sure, why not?” Callia mumbled as Casey lifted her hair like she was nothing more than a lab rat. “This day can’t get any weirder.”

The two inspected her neck; then Isadora eased back and Casey let Callia’s hair down again. A deep furrow marred the princess’s pale face, and oh, yeah, it was obvious Isadora was not happy about this little bit of news. But what daughter would be? She’d just found out her father had yet another illegitimate child. Gods, the king had taken Zeus’s “go forth and multiply” decree to the extreme.

Isadora finally sighed. Glanced between the two. “The least one of you could have done was be male. Then I wouldn’t still be forced to marry Zander.”

Zander. Skata. Callia clenched her jaw. How had she forgotten all about the fact Zander was set to bind himself to someone else? At what point had that turned into the least of her worries?

“What does the marking mean?” Casey asked Isadora. “I thought you and I were the chosen pieces of the prophecy. But Callia has the mark too.”

Isadora pursed her lips, and from the tense expression on her face, it was clear she knew something and didn’t want to elaborate.

“Isa?” Casey asked.

“I’m not sure,” Isadora finally said. “I’ve been doing some…research, but I haven’t come up with anything concrete yet.” She focused on Callia. “Have you always had it?”

Callia really didn’t have time for this—or care much at this point—but she sensed these two weren’t going to let her leave until they got some answers, so she cooperated because truthfully, she wasn’t quite calm enough to face her father—Simon…Holy shit—again.

“I didn’t even know it was there until today.”

Casey’s gaze jumped to Isadora.

They both stared at Callia, and Callia’s stomach did a slow roll. “So that means…?”

“I don’t think any of us know,” Casey said. “But it means something.”

Callia’s gaze strayed to Isadora, whose jaw was clenched so tight the sharp slash of bone beneath the princess’s pale skin was visible. Isadora knew something. Something she wasn’t telling her or Casey.

Yeah, well, screw that. Callia didn’t really give a flying rip right now.

“Have you…?” Casey asked, not seeing the look on Isadora’s face. “Has your head been bugging you lately? Like when we’re all in the same room. Earlier, when you stepped into the chamber, I felt—”

“A buzzing,” Callia finished. “Yeah, I felt it.”

“Me too,” Isadora said. “I felt it that day in my father’s room as well. When the Argonauts were there and…” Zander volunteered to marry me.

Isadora’s unspoken words hung like a weight between them, reminding Callia once more what else was wrong with this whole fucked-up situation.

Okay, screw this chitchat. Callia moved toward the door. “I need to talk to Zander.”

“He left,” Isadora said.

Callia turned slowly, one hand on the bathroom door. “What do you mean, he left?”

“Left, as in walked out the door. Right after you did.” Isadora studied her nails. “I heard Theron mention something about the colony. Nick has information about recent daemon activity in the area. My guess is they’re going to try to locate Atalanta’s base.”

No way.

A renewed sense of brutal betrayal welled in Callia’s chest. He’d left. Hadn’t said a word to her. Hadn’t kept another of his promises. I won’t cut you out…

She’d just been shuffled off to wait. Again. The Argonauts were doing what they always did, and she was the female who had nothing to offer. The harsh reminder of the way she’d been treated by her father, by Loukas, by every male in her godforsaken life, stabbed deep and twisted hard. “Where is my father?” she asked through clenched teeth.

“Simon’s been put under house arrest by Lucian. I imagine they’re together.”

Callia imagined that as well. Like she even cared what happened to either of them at this point.

Fury filled her thoughts. She wasn’t about to sit back and do nothing. If Zander thought he could push her around…

“You won’t be allowed to cross the portal,” Isadora said when Callia moved for the door again. “The Executive Guard will never let you through. By now Lucian’s already sent word that you’ll be trying to cross. The Argonauts too.”

Callia’s frustration grew to explosive levels. She turned on Isadora. “Damn them. I won’t just sit back and—”

Casey’s hand landed on Callia’s forearm, and warmth spread up her skin at the contact. “No one expects you to.” She glanced at the princess. “There’s always the other way.”

Isadora pursed her lips.

“What other way?” Callia asked.

“The secret portals,” Casey said.

Callia’s gaze jumped from one sister to the other. “You know where they are?”

Isadora didn’t answer. And in the silence, Callia realized the princess wasn’t going to share the information. Callia’s eyes grew wide with disbelief.

That anger intensified to draw every one of her muscles tight and rigid. She and Isadora had never gotten along, and now Callia understood why. Had Isadora known the king was Callia’s father? Was she hoping this would never come out?

“Isadora,” Casey prodded.

Isadora sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know where they are…exactly. But I have a…friend…who does.”

Rage colored Callia’s vision but she forced herself to stay calm. She needed the princess’s help right now, more than she’d ever needed anyone’s help before. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go see your so-called friend.”

Isadora didn’t move, and that dead look Callia had noticed days ago in the king’s study when she’d tried to convince Isadora to stand up to her father came back with a vengeance.

“Your son won’t rule. The Council will never recognize him as an heir, because your mother committed adultery.” She glanced at Casey, then back to Callia, and oh, yeah, the bitterness got through loud and clear. “It doesn’t matter what any of us want. It doesn’t even matter that you’re Ar-golean. All that matters are the rules. And the traditions.”

It was all Callia could do not to wrap her hands around Isadora’s throat. Was the princess honestly as heartless as she sounded? She was talking about her nephew. Flesh and blood. Even if she didn’t want to recognize Callia’s son, that’s exactly what he was. As Callia fought the rage, faintly she wondered if this was what Zander battled on a daily basis, but the thought dissipated as she narrowed her eyes on her new half-sister.

“I don’t care about any of that right now. I just want my son back.”

“Well, I do care,” Isadora said. “Your son’s father will sire the heir to the throne. There’s no going back on that now. Zander made a commitment to the king. And the king is not going to change his mind simply because the truth of your parentage finally came out. He’ll acknowledge you, but he’ll bury the fact Zander is your son’s father. Mark my words. No one but us and the Argonauts will ever know the truth.”

That was it. As much as Callia could take. She lunged for Isadora.

“Oh, my God!” Casey gasped, grabbing Callia around the middle and tugging her back. “Stop it! Both of you.”

Isadora didn’t flinch. And she didn’t look fazed, even as Callia struggled against Casey’s hold. “Take a close look, Callia. I don’t like this situation any more than you do. If it were up to me, none of this would be an issue. But I don’t have a say in it and neither do you.” She stood rooted in the same place, her eyes hard, unreadable stones. Eyes that said she’d been beaten down more times than Callia could even imagine. Eyes that seemed brutally resigned to her fate as nothing but property. “I’m not trying to piss you off. I’m just telling you the way it is.”

Though she didn’t want to, some part of Callia softened toward Isadora. Just enough so she didn’t tear the princess’s larynx out. She stopped struggling against Casey.

“This situation isn’t going to miraculously fix itself when you find your son,” Isadora added. “You need to be prepared for that.”

Callia’s chest rose and fell as she tried to regulate her heart rate. And even if she didn’t like it, she heard clearly what Isadora was saying. Even if they got her son back from Atalanta—and that was a big if—Zander’s binding to Isadora was still on. Once an agreement was made with the king, it was final. And no matter what she or Isadora or even Zander wanted at this point, it was moot because it was all out of Isadora’s hands. Out of all their hands.

It wasn’t right. It would never be right. But at this moment…Callia didn’t give a flip about politics and what was wrong with their world. “I’ll deal with it. All I want is my son.” She zeroed in on Isadora’s tense face and though it nearly killed her, gentled her voice. “Please. Help me get to the human world so I can find him.”

Isadora sighed. But it wasn’t with relief. It was with resignation. Resignation and indifference. “Fine, then. I’ll take you to the secret portal.”

“Where is she?” Zander twisted the daemon’s arm so far up the monster’s back, bones cracked.

The daemon growled, tried to wriggle out from under Zander’s hold, where he had the motherfucker pinned to the snowy ground. Around them, blood splatters stained what used to be pristine white.

“Zander,” Theron said behind him. “Enough.”

Zander twisted harder, ripping the daemon’s arm clear out of his socket. The beast howled in pain. Beside him on the ground, two decapitated daemons lay steaming in the frigid night, their bodies illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the tall Douglas firs.

Covered in blood and sweat and other revolting viscera, Zander ignored Theron and leaned down so he was right at the daemon’s good ear. The one he hadn’t yet ripped off. “I’m gonna gut you like a pig if you don’t tell me where Atalanta is.”

“Zander,” Theron said again, grabbing his arm. “I said that’s enough. If you keep this up he won’t be able to talk.”

The daemon coughed. Blood sprayed over a fresh patch of powdery snow. He lifted his head inches off the frozen ground. “Go to hell,” he rasped.

Zander’s vision blurred. He shook off Theron’s hand. Reached for his knife. “You go first, asshole.” In one swift move she sliced the Daemon’s jugular. Blood spurted over him and the ground. The daemon gagged and struggled.

“Fuck,” someone whispered behind him.

Zander pushed up from the ground, every muscle in his body vibrating. He looked over what he’d done. Two mutilated daemons and the third choking on his own blood. Not a single one had told him where Atalanta was hiding out. Where his son was now.

He shoved the bloody knife into its holster at his thigh and turned away from the group. Behind him he heard one of the Argonauts decapitating the last daemon.

Pussies. Let the motherfucker bleed for a while.

He pulled out the GPS from his pocket and stalked across the snow. North was his best bet. Nick had mentioned the attacks were stronger father north. He wouldn’t be so gentle with the next daemon he found.

“I said, hold up, Guardian.” Theron stepped into Zander’s path.

Zander halted. Flicked his eyes up. “Move.”

“Where do you think you’re heading?”

“Where do you think I’m heading? Get the fuck out of my way.”

Theron squared his shoulders. Cerek and Gryphon took up space next to him.

Slowly, Zander lowered the GPS and looked at his kinsmen. Titus moved up on his right. Phineus on his left. They were boxing him in. “What the hell is this?”

Theron moved forward. “Look at you. You’re covered in shit. Your shoulder’s bleeding like a sieve and you’re on the edge of an eruption. You didn’t even give that last daemon time to answer before you ripped his ear off.”

Zander looked into the trees.

“You’re going back to the colony,” Theron said. “You’re getting that shoulder patched up, your ass cleaned off and your head cooled out. You’re no use to anyone like this. And we’re never going to find the boy unless you chill it down a notch.”

The rage bubbled up and over. Zander dropped the GPS, had Theron by the front of his jacket and was up close and personal before any of the other Argonauts saw him move. “Try and make me.”

“No!” Theron barked when Titus and Cerek moved to pull Zander back. He didn’t pry Zander’s hands off or move to get out of Zander’s hold, even though they both knew he was ten times stronger than Zander. Instead he focused in on Zander’s eyes and lowered his voice. “I don’t know what you’re going through. None of us do. But this isn’t the way, Zander. I’m trying to help you here. We all are.”

Zander’s jaw ticked. Through a tunnel he heard Theron’s words. But the rage was right there. Thrumming to be released. Coloring his vision and actions and thoughts.

“Do the smart thing, Z,” Theron said. “We need to regroup. Come up with a plan. Nick will have information about where the most recent strikes have been. And you need that shoulder cleaned up before infection sets in. You won’t be able to find your son if you’ve got gangrene.”

Zander breathed deep. Once. Twice. Again until the haze started to clear.

“That’s it,” Theron said.

Slowly he let go of Theron’s jacket and eased back. But his muscles were still coiled tight. And he felt like a rubber band, ready to snap any second.

“Cerek, Gryphon, Phin,” Theron said to the guardians. “Take care of the bodies. Titus?”

“Yo,” Titus said.

“Get Nick on the horn and tell him we’re coming in.”

As Titus moved off to get a signal on one of the satellite phones Nick had given them, Theron put a hand on Zander’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Zander glanced at the hand, then at Theron’s face, and though he still wanted blood, he knew Theron was right. “No.”

“You were smart to leave Callia at home.”

The image of Callia standing up to her father and the entire Council flickered through his mind. “She’ll be pissed.”

“She’ll be alive.” Theron glanced to the side. “And she doesn’t need to see this shit.”

Titus stepped up again, phone at his ear, mouthpiece tipped away. “Nick’s got a scout out this way. He’ll be here in twenty to pick us up.”

Theron nodded. “Good.”

Zander’s jaw flexed and that familiar, all-encompassing rage pushed in again. Twenty minutes to wait. Another thirty back to the colony. Who fucking knew how long until he got stitched up and they put a plan together. The need to annihilate overrode everything. Even common sense.

“Hold it together, Zander,” Theron said. The leader of the Argonauts turned to the others piling the mutilated daemons in a small clearing. “Let’s ignite these motherfuckers.”

Zander stayed where he was. On the edge of the group while they all worked to clean up his mess so no humans accidentally came across the bodies. The heat from the fire singed the hair on his face and arms. A foul stench filled his nose and lungs, but he didn’t move away. He’d done this thousands of times, killed and watched the remains go up in smoke. But then he’d always had a sense of victory. Now he felt nothing but the urge to kill again. And a rage he was only barely keeping bottled inside.

Sooner or later it was going to explode, and he wouldn’t be able to hold it back. He only hoped Atalanta was around when it happened.