“Agapi?”
It took several seconds to realize Zagreus was talking to her. Tearing her gaze from the fire, Cynna looked to her left, toward the head of the table where he sat leaning against the armrest of his chair, watching her with assessing, black-as-night eyes.
Blinking several times, she fought from swallowing and showing any ounce of that weakness he thrived upon. “Yes?”
“You’ve had little to say tonight. Do you not think the session went well?”
He was talking about Nick’s torment by the nymphs. Zagreus had given Nick a day to recuperate after Lykos had informed the god his prized prisoner hadn’t healed correctly after the use of that salve. Cynna had been surprised by the break in schedule, but she’d been so tired from everything, she’d spent all day sleeping—another tidbit that had surprised her…that Zagreus had let her rest. Usually he gave no thought to her wants or needs.
Her gaze flicked to Lykos, seated across from her. She’d also been dismayed to learn the satyr had not informed Zagreus she’d spent the night in Nick’s cell taking care of him. She wasn’t sure what Lykos’s motives were, but neither was she about to ask.
She forced the image of Nick’s torture from her mind. She couldn’t think about it. She’d barely been able to stomach being in the same room. The only way she’d been able to get through it was to zone out like she always did when someone was tortured in front of her. But even now—a full day later—she could hear his strangled groans. She could feel the rattle of his chains in the rock walls around her. And at any moment, she expected her body to break out into a cold sweat—the same sweat that had coated his pale skin.
She was a coward. She knew it. For not standing up to Zagreus, for letting this go on, for doing nothing to help those in pain in the dungeons below.
Thank you…
“Agapi?”
Blinking rapidly, she looked to her left again. To Zagreus’s curious expression.
Holy skata. She needed to focus on the here and now. Needed to pull her shit together and remember what was important. Needed—more than anything—to get out of this damn dining room and away from Zagreus before he saw her vulnerability and pounced.
“How the session went is of no matter,” she said in a voice she worked to keep even.
“And why is that, my sweet Cynna?” Zagreus reached for the decanter and refilled his wine goblet. “I saw what those nymphs were doing.” He smirked at Lykos. “No human could hold out much longer against that.”
Lykos chuckled. He knew full well what the nymphs were capable of—if forced. The bastard.
“No human would,” Cynna agreed. “But he is not fully human, now is he?”
Zagreus carefully set his goblet down and pinned her with a hard, calculating look. “What are you saying?”
What was she saying? Something she probably shouldn’t. But she was tired of kowtowing to Zagreus. And his minions. “He won’t break from this. He’s too strong.”
Zagreus’s eyes narrowed and sharpened, and though the fine hairs along her nape stood straight, she lifted her chin, refusing to back down.
After several long seconds, he looked toward the satyr for confirmation. “Lykos?”
Lykos’s heated stare and snarled grin told her he knew she was walking a very fine line and that he couldn’t wait to see her fall off her perch. It also told her he’d be there to claim her when she did. “He’ll break, my prince. It’s only a matter of time. The female does not know of what she speaks.”
Cynna was sick and tired of taking Lykos’s shit. She slapped a hand on the table and leaned forward. “I know more than you will ever know about the people of his world, beast.”
Every muscle in Lykos’s body tensed, and a growl rose in his throat.
Zagreus chuckled and cut into his bloody steak. “Too bad we can’t just sic Cynna on him. She could break any man with that mouth.” He speared a piece of meat with his knife, his humor fading. “Time is the issue here, now isn’t it?”
Anger pumped off Lykos in waves. He stared at Cynna with malice and contempt brewing in his dark eyes, but she was done letting him take potshots at her. Especially in front of Zagreus. Come on, you bastard, come at me, right now.
The satyr’s hand curled into a fist against the scarred wooden surface of the table. He glanced toward Zagreus and back at her, judging his chances.
Zagreus chewed, then swallowed and took a sip of wine as if nothing were happening. He might get rough with her from time to time, but if one of his satyrs laid a hand on her, Zagreus would rip his throat out with his bare hands. She’d watched him do it. And she couldn’t wait to see him do it again, right now.