Sons of Zeus (The Warrior Trilogy #1)

Sera smacked him on the arm. “Not funny.”


“It’s kinda funny,” he responded. When she gave him a look of death, he laughed. “Don’t worry. Do you really think they’d just let their dogs kill a young boy playing in the yard? I’m sure he’s —”

He stopped when they turned a corner of towering hedges and saw the scene before them. If Riq had thought things were funny before, now they might seem hilarious, though Sera just felt a swelling of relief.

Dak hung on a statue of a man, his hands gripping the arms and his legs wrapped around the torso. The dogs were at the base of the dais on which the statue stood, barking and chomping, slobber flinging in all directions. And then there was a soldier, tall and strong, holding a sword so that its tip rested right under Dak’s chin. But the guard was grinning, and it was obvious he had no intention of actually cutting the boy’s throat. The young man was probably just trying to teach a lesson, and maybe enjoying it a little too much.

“Alex,” Aristotle said in a commanding voice. “Put down that sword this instant! And call off these bloodthirsty dogs before someone gets a foot bitten off.”

Riq snickered beside Sera, and instead of smacking him this time she joined in, hoping Dak didn’t notice her laughing.

One of the other guards went up and barked some orders at the dogs — he actually sounded a lot like them — and they suddenly ran off, not seeming so violent anymore. Alex — and Sera could only assume that this was the person they’d come over two thousand years into the past to save — stepped back and lowered his sword, a huge smile spreading across his handsome face. Dark curls bounced as he swung his head to see his former tutor.

“Master,” he said. “You should really send word before you come to visit Mother and me.” His initial glee was dampened a bit by a dark look. “I also trust you’ll have an explanation as to why you appeared out of nowhere in the gardens behind our home.”

Aristotle walked forward and gave Alexander a big hug. “Of course, my boy. Of course. We’ll explain everything.” He took a step back, his hands still gripping the shoulders of his student. “But I just can’t tell you how happy I am to see you alive and well. My heart is soaring.”

Sera understood why he was showing so much emotion. Just an hour earlier he’d been told his most famous pupil had been killed, and yet here he stood now, safe and sound.

Alexander himself, of course, didn’t quite get it. “I just visited with you a month ago. And there’s not much around here that could hurt me besides some garden tools. Save your worries, master, for the day I go to battle with my father, the hegemon.”

When he spoke, Alexander had a grandness about him that impressed Sera. Even though he looked young, there was just something . . . majestic about him.

“Um, excuse me?”

Sera and everyone else looked at Dak, still hanging from the statue.

“The dogs are gone,” Riq said. “Is there a reason you’re still hanging up there like an ugly tree ornament?”

“Yes, actually. It was easy to get up here with dogs trying to bite me, but I’m not sure how to get back down. And as much as I love Plato . . .”

Riq and Sera stepped forward and provided footholds and balance as Dak climbed to the ground. Then the boy smoothed his clothes and heaved a big sigh.

“Tough work running from man-eating beasts,” he said. “You guys should try it sometime.”

They all stood silent for a moment, awkwardness hanging in the air like drapes. Then Aristotle finally broke the ice.

“Introductions!” he exclaimed, a little too excitedly. He cleared his throat, then proceeded to tell who was who, and of course Dak shook Alexander’s hand when it came to be his turn.

“I’ve always wanted to meet you,” Dak said. “Even though I didn’t honestly know a lot about you until the Hyst —”

“Very good, very good,” Aristotle interrupted. “Now that we’re all friends, let us retire to the palace and get comfortable. Alex, I don’t think I need to tell you that there’s a lot to talk about.”

The young man nodded, then finally sheathed his sword. “Yes, sounds like a fine plan, master. But I must warn you . . .”

“About what?” the philosopher prodded.

Alexander took a second to look at the people he’d just met. “I don’t think my mother is going to be very happy to see you.”



As pretty as the outside of Olympias’s palace was, the inside took Sera’s breath away. Alexander’s mother — or her decorator — had an obvious taste for the international. There was pottery from Egypt, rugs from Persia, bronze statues from Italy, furniture of all sizes and shapes, not one piece looking like it came from the same place as another. Sera wished she could transport the entire house into the future — she’d love to live in a place with so much variety and personality.