She didn’t know. But one thing was clear. The ease with which her father and the Argonauts had locked her in this room made it clear they regarded her as nothing more than a pawn. Nothing but a pet to keep fed and quiet and well-groomed.
The tightness in her chest she’d been fighting the last few days came back with a vengeance. And as she eyed the courtyard below, she knew what she had to do. “Saphira, I need your help.”
“Anything, my lady.”
Isadora crossed the floor and reached for a piece of paper from the top drawer of her desk. Scribbling quickly, she said, “Find Orpheus and give him this letter.”
“Orpheus?” Saphira asked, bewildered. “But why? He’s Lucian’s nephew.”
As Lucian was the top ranking member of the Council, and very much not her friend, the question was warranted. But what Saphira didn’t understand was that Isadora knew Orpheus’s darkest secrets. And he would do just about anything to make sure they never came to light.
“Because he owes me.” She reread the note quickly and, satisfied it would set the wheels in motion, signed her name, slipped the paper into an envelope and affixed her royal seal. She handed the paper to Saphira. “Deliver it right away. But take care. It goes only to Orpheus. No one else.”
Saphira nodded and slipped the envelope inside her jacket. “It will be done.”
Alone, Isadora looked out over the courtyard once more and drew a deep breath. Then thought of her sister.
Two weeks. Max. She had two weeks to put her plan in motion before they both died.
She only prayed she was doing the right thing.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The woman was as prickly as the tree she was named for.
Theron scowled as he followed behind Acacia on the narrow path. He hadn’t been able to talk her out of her crazy plan to search for the youngling. Though Theron was loath to have her anywhere out in the open, he knew when he was up against a rock wall of stubbornness, and he was quickly discovering Acacia could dig her heels in with the best of them.
Since there was no way he could trust her safety to anyone but himself, he’d had to come along. They’d separated from the others more than an hour ago, and he scanned the forest on both sides as they moved. Odds were good the child was already dead, though why that bothered him so much was as foreign as why he couldn’t stop thinking about getting between Acacia’s thighs right this very minute.
Focus, dammit.
There were a thousand things he should be concentrating on, namely how in Hades it was possible a half-breed had the gift of hindsight. But the only thing he could think about right now was how soft her skin had been last night, how lush her body, how perfectly she’d fit against him.
“You’re doing it again,” she said from ahead.
He lifted his head. “Doing what?”
“That muttering thing in another language. Didn’t anyone ever teach you that’s rude?”
He glanced at the soft sway of her hips as she moved and the way she filled out the backside of her jeans. “Would you prefer I spoke my thoughts in English?”
The husky timbre of his voice must have registered, because she stopped abruptly and turned on him. Her cheeks were pink from the cool morning air, but there was a heat in her that had nothing to do with the temperature. Her gaze raked his face, slid down to his chest and hovered there until his blood warmed with arousal.
“Look your fill, meli,” he whispered.
Her eyes snapped to his just before she swiveled on her heels and resumed walking. “I don’t like you.”
One side of his mouth curved in amusement as he followed. She was a terrible liar, something he’d discovered early on. The knowledge thrilled him. “Yes, you do. You like me a lot.”
“I may have. Once.” She lifted a branch so she could move under it, then released it with perfect timing so it smacked him in the face.
He chuckled even as he rubbed at the sting on his cheek. He liked that she stood up to him. There wasn’t a gynaíka in Argolea who would dare try to tell him what to do. If he had to be stuck out here, he couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather be stuck with. The woman had to be exhausted, they’d been walking for nearly an hour, but she was determined, and she wasn’t letting it affect her mood. Every time he suggested they look in a different direction and that it was inconceivable for a child to walk this far, she’d flicked him a look and kept going.
“That is,” she added, cutting through his thoughts, “I may have liked you before you set out to seduce me and then walked out without a word.”
Ouch. “Acacia.” He stopped her with a firm hand on her arm. This wasn’t the time or place to get into it, but he had an overwhelming urge to explain what had happened that night and why he’d left.
Though why he thought he could make her understand when he was still having trouble rationalizing the whole thing was beyond him.
“What happened between us had nothing to do with why I’m here now. I didn’t know who you were then. I only learned of your identity when I went to the store to find you.”
“You expect me to believe that?”