Marked

“Nothing?” Zander dropped his arm but he didn’t back down from Theron’s defensive posture. So much for it not being his problem. Deep inside he’d be damned if he let one of his kin go through even an ounce of what he had. “It didn’t look like nothing from where Cerek and I were standing.”

 

 

Theron’s jaw twitched again. “It’s none of your business. It’s between me and the king. Let it go, Argonaut.”

 

“Not my business?” Zander stepped between Theron and the king’s door before the leader of the Argonauts could dismiss him. The flash in Theron’s eyes warned him he wasn’t in the mood to be toyed with. Well, fuck it. Zander wasn’t in a mood to dick around either. Not after the last few minutes. “The hell it’s not. Theron, this concerns all of us. And our futures.”

 

Theron pursed his lips and took a step back. At his silence, Zander pressed on. “What the hell are you doing, man? She’s a half-breed.”

 

“I know.”

 

“And the Chosen.”

 

Theron dropped his head and rubbed a hand over his brow. “I know.”

 

Pity crept into Zander’s chest. Pity for his kinsman, who was obviously totally conflicted right now. But Theron needed to know his superhuman strength wasn’t going to save him this time. He was about to hit rock bottom. Over a female. And Zander knew all too well just how bad that fucking hurt. “You gotta let her go, Theron. This isn’t going to end well and you know it. You’re just prolonging the inevitable and making it worse.”

 

Theron’s head snapped up, and fire rekindled in his eyes. “Whom am I making it worse for, Guardian? For the king? He’s dying. In a few weeks he won’t give a shit about any of us. For Isadora? No one even knows what’s going to happen to her. For our race?” He scoffed. “Most in our kingdom don’t even understand what the hell we do for them. The Council’s made sure of that. Why should I give a rip about them?”

 

Theron’s uncharacteristic reactions set off warning bells in Zander’s head. “Because it’s your duty.”

 

“My duty’s changed.”

 

“Theron—”

 

“No,” Theron reached for the door. “I’m sick of sitting back while he plays god. You don’t have a clue what he’s done, Zander. Not a fucking clue.”

 

Theron pushed by Zander and thrust the king’s door open. Immediately the scent of healing herbs and the odor of sickness permeated the air. Reluctantly, Zander followed, though what he wanted to do more was pound some sense into Theron before the guardian made the biggest mistake of his life.

 

The heavy velvet curtains were pulled closed, emitting only a line of light around the edges of the fabric that did nothing to lighten the room. Sheets rustled on the bed. “Who’s there?” a weak voice asked.

 

It took Zander moments to find any familiar features in the frail ándras propped up in a mountain of pillows. The king’s cheeks were hollow, his eyes sunken. The skin seemed to hang off his bones and his hair was now snowwhite. He looked as if he’d aged fifty years in the last few days alone.

 

“Speak up,” the king barked. “Who’s there? I may not be able to see anymore, but I know I’m not alone.”

 

“You sent for me,” Theron said in a dry voice. “I came.”

 

The king’s face softened. “Theron. There you are, my boy. I was beginning to worry.”

 

Theron’s jaw tightened.

 

“Tell me,” the king said with excitement brewing in his voice. “Did you find her?”

 

Theron glanced at Zander, and in his eyes Zander didn’t miss the warning: Don’t fucking say a word.

 

Shit. Zander stiffened, knowing a train wreck when he saw one. This was about to go from bad to worse, and there was virtually nothing he could do to stop it.

 

“I found her,” Theron said simply, refocusing on the king.

 

The king breathed out a long sigh of relief. “Thank Hera. You brought her with you? Where is she? We need to unite her with Isadora. My daughter isn’t well.”

 

“They’re both your daughters,” Theron snapped.

 

The king went still. Zander took a step farther into the room, adrenaline pumping.

 

The look Theron sent Zander could have boiled blood, but Zander ignored it. Right now he just wanted to make sure Theron didn’t pummel the king. And holy shit, wasn’t that ironic? He was the Argonaut who normally had to be talked down from a rage, not the other way around.

 

Theron transferred his glare to the king. “Aren’t you curious about her at all?”

 

The king stayed silent and unmoving. And his total lack of emotion ignited a fury in Theron that Zander had never seen before.

 

The Argonaut’s coal black eyes grew so wide they seemed to consume his face. His hands clenched into fists at his sides and every muscle in his body bunched for battle. “Well, let me tell you. Her hair is dark, her eyes are violet, just like yours. She’s tall and slim. Athletic. The opposite of Isadora. Built more like you. She runs her own business. Has traveled all over the world. She’s kind and gentle and smart enough to put me in my place. And there’s not much that scares her. When she was surrounded by daemons she kept her cool. Even had the strength to save my ass. More than once.”

 

Elisabeth Naughton's books