“To what do I owe this unexpected encounter, Argonaut?” She tried to command an air of authority from her regal bed but knew she did a half-assed job. She was in no position—physically or mentally—to command even an ounce of authority.
A snarl curled one side of Demetrius’s mouth. “No one’s heard from Theron since he went looking for you six days ago. I know you think your own asinine reasons for going to the human realm were warranted, but I disagree, Highness.”
His last word was spoken with such distaste, he might have punched her in the stomach. The effect was the same. Had she thought she held any authority over him?
Think again.
“Because of you,” he went on, “we may have lost one of our own. I want to know exactly where you went and what you saw.”
She was still reeling from his lack of social grace, but one thing got through loud and clear: the hint of gloating in his voice.
For a horrifying moment, she wondered if Demetrius wanted Theron dead.
But that was ludicrous, right? They were kin, born of the same guardian class.
Her spine stiffened. “You would be wise to watch your tongue, Argonaut.”
The look he sent her chilled her to the bone, but she lifted her chin anyway, straightened her shoulders and remembered she was royalty. It wasn’t wise to test an Argonaut, especially a righteously ticked off one, but at some point she needed to stop being the weakling everyone expected her to be and stand up for herself. If, gods forbid, something had happened to Theron in the human realm, then as soon as her father passed, she was on her own. And the command of this ragtag group would fall to her.
Gods help her.
“You are not my queen,” he snarled, his gaze roving over her as if he could see through the sheets and her nightdress below all the way to her naked flesh. And the contempt brewing there said he wasn’t impressed. “Not yet, anyway, and not likely, from the looks of things here. I answer only to the king. And to my kinsmen. You, Princess, would be wise to watch your tongue with me.”
Isadora refused to swallow or show an ounce of intimidation. Theron frightened her at times, but she knew he’d never do anything to harm her. The others—especially Demetrius—were a completely different story.
“I told the servant your kin sent here yesterday everything I knew,” she said in a voice she hoped like Hades didn’t shake. “When I left Theron, he was fine. You ask the wrong person.”
He stepped closer to the bed, his eyes narrowing on her face like a cobra ready to strike. “Oh, I think not, Highness.”
Isadora stiffened.
“Do not think it has escaped my attention that you still refrain from declaring what was so damn important in the human realm in the first place. If Theron is dead because of you, my kinsmen will find out what you are hiding. And royalty or not, we will seek vengeance.”
He would. That was certain. But not over his grief for Theron.
No, Demetrius would seek vengeance for the simple pleasure of doing so and the promise of a kill.
He towered over her, mere feet from her bed. It was clear to both of them he could do whatever he wanted to her before anyone outside would hear her scream.
She closed her mouth tight.
Seconds passed between them, a virtual stare-down that left her as cold as she imagined the blood pumping in his veins to be. Finally, she gathered her courage and swung her legs over the side of the mattress.
Though it took every ounce of strength she had in her, she slowly pushed to her feet. Even when she stood, he was still nearly a foot and a half taller than her, but she refused to show an ounce of weakness. The crimson robe she wore fell open, revealing the white nightgown beneath, but his eyes didn’t stray downward. To him she was nothing.
“Twice you have challenged me, Argonaut. There will not be a third. You are dismissed.”
“Princess,” he sneered, “you shake.” He stepped so close, she had to crane her neck to look up at him, and still they didn’t touch. A malevolent, knowing smile cut across his lips. One that seriously made her want to step back.
She fought the urge.
“Tell me, Princess. Do I frighten you?”
Perspiration slid down her skin and pooled at the base of her spine. “I’m not afraid of you.”
He leaned down so his lips were a breath from her ear. And for a moment, she wanted him to touch her. Just once. So she could have the connection and see into his future and what he was planning, as she’d been able to do so often in the past.
The only problem was, she wasn’t sure her powers would work this time.
“You should be,” he whispered in a chilling tone. “You would be wise to be very afraid.”
“Demetrius. Enough.”
They both turned at the harsh command and looked toward the doorway. Theron stood just inside the room, every bit as dark and brooding and dangerous as the commander he was.