“Enough,” the king said.
“She cares little about herself. Would give the shirt on her back to someone in need if she could. And she’s full of more humor and goodness and life than you or I will ever know.”
“That’s enough,” the king said between clenched teeth.
Shit. Shit. Had Zander thought Theron had fallen for the half-breed? The Argonaut hadn’t fallen. He’d dived in headfirst. Without—obviously—fucking thinking.
“Theron,” Zander cut in, trying to defuse the situation, even though he knew he was the last person in the universe who should. Cerek was the peacemaker, not him. “That’s it.”
Theron shot Zander a blistering look. “Fuck you, Zander.”
Whoa. The rage Zander struggled against every day bubbled up to explosive levels. Curling his fingers into his palms, he breathed deep and reminded himself Theron was his kin. And that he was hurting. Zander could identify with that, even if all it did was remind him what an idiotic fool he’d been once.
“I said, enough,” the king repeated firmly.
“Yeah, you know what?” Theron mocked, swinging his gaze back to the king. “I don’t think so.” He took a step closer to the foot of the bed. “Do you have any idea how she reacted when she found out she was half Argolean? She pitched in and helped the Misos—a race she knew nothing about. A race you told me didn’t exist. An offshoot of ours that’s been on the front lines battling the daemons, while we sat back and did nothing. Nothing! Do you know how many there are out there? How many have died? Been maimed? What they’ve gone through because of you?”
The king didn’t answer, and Zander found himself staring at his kinsman, unable to believe that what he was hearing was true.
“Hundreds,” Theron said, eyes blazing. “In that colony alone. Thousands the world over.”
“Holy Hades,” Zander whispered.
“That is enough!” the king screamed.
The king was visibly shaken, and sweating from his old and wrinkled brow, but Theron didn’t back down. “If she knew why I brought her here, she’d probably sacrifice herself for you and your noble cause. Because that’s the selfless kind of person she is. But I won’t let her.”
For the first time, the king’s eyes lifted, and he squinted hard to see. “What did you say?”
“I said I won’t bring her within a mile of Isadora,” Theron said calmly. “Consider your prophecy null and void.”
Zander sucked in a breath.
The king’s face went ashen. “You do not know what you are saying. Isadora will die.”
Theron tipped his head. “And why does that concern you, Leo? Is it because you lose an heir to the throne in the deal or because she’s your daughter? Because as long as I’ve known you, you’ve cared for Isadora about as much as you care for the Misos. And we all know how much anyone outside these sacred walls matters to you.”
The king’s white face went beet red, and he struggled forward in bed. “You do not know of what you speak!”
“I speak the truth!”
In the silence that followed, Zander wasn’t sure what to do. Theron’s rage was so close to the surface, he was vibrating. And Zander didn’t put it past the Argonaut to cross the floor and hurl the old man against the wall. He understood that rage and need to annihilate. Hell, he lived with it daily. And he felt it now. From his friend. From himself. From the flickering image still lingering in his head of Callia brushing him off outside this very door and the unwanted emotions that action stirred inside.
“I’ve seen them,” Theron said, shaking his head. “I’ve seen what they’ve been through. And yet you did nothing. We did nothing! And now you want to set Atalanta free from Tartarus so you can truly start your precious war? Unleash the daemons? I won’t let you do that. I won’t let you kill one more person to make your twisted prophecy come true. Not even for Isadora. You can call on all the gods on Olympus to come to your aid, but know this now. I’ll never let you get near Acacia. I’ll die first.”
The king gasped. Theron turned for the door.
“Your father understood,” the king called at his back. “He had more honor in his right hand than you’ve got in your entire body.”
Theron’s fist hit the wall near the door so hard, it created a crater the size of a window. He pulled his arm from the rubble and glanced over his shoulder toward the king. “My father’s dead, you son of a bitch. And you can join him, for all I care.”
Theron stormed out of the room, leaving a seething tension in his wake. One that washed over Zander like a wave, pushing and pulling him in the current left behind. The bond he had with his forefather Achilles, with Theron, urged him to follow and say “Fuck you” to the world. But that part of him that struggled with what was right and what was expected of him rooted his feet in place.