She lifted her index finger to her lips and bit the tip until she broke the skin. Then she placed it into Urian’s mouth.
He opened his dark eyes and quickly began to suckle her fingertip as he quieted down. Color returned to his skin.
Apollymi let out a relieved breath. She was right.
Apollo was a bastard.
Grateful that she’d saved this child, Apollymi withdrew her finger before her blood mutated the babe further. As it was, it turned his dark eyes to blue.
Relieved that his life was spared, she handed him to Strykerius. “He needs Apollite blood to drink. They both do. Because of the curse, they can’t suckle the breast milk of a human mother.”
Strykerius sighed in gratitude. “I hadn’t thought of that. Thank you, akra.”
She inclined her head to him. “Tell the others with newborns. Most likely they will all need blood with their mother’s milk, even if their mothers are Apollites. No doubt your father intended for the infants to die off.”
Apollo was a heartless prick like that.
Tears swam in Apollymi’s eyes as she remembered the way she’d found her own son …
Gutted by Apollo’s callous hand. Dumped into the sea for the beasts to feast upon.
She clamped her teeth together to keep from screaming as the need for vengeance rose up and demanded she rip out Apollo’s heart and devour it. Something that would damn the very world into oblivion. And she would gladly see it burn. Gladly rip down every god in existence. That would be the only thing that would placate this pain in her heart.
Utter destruction.
Patience, dear Braith. Patience. Akou aimassorai, ni adayakopa’ia—Though I am the one bleeding, I will not be broken.
Anekico ler aracnia—Victory to the spider.
The one good thing to come from Apollo’s curse was that the Apollites aged much faster than humans now. It wouldn’t take Urian eighteen to twenty years to reach maturity.
He’d be there in only ten.
Then he would be ready to train for war and she could send him after her enemy.
One day, Urian would bring her the head of Apollo.
And return her sons to her, as well.
August 9, 9524 BC
“Can you see it? Is it there? Can you see the sunlight, Urian?”
His heart thumping with nervous anticipation, Urian grimaced at the brightness. Holding his breath, he peeked around the corner of the crevice where he and his twin brother were hidden by the deep, dark shadows that had protected them all their young lives. Against all rules and dictates, and dire consequences and threats, they’d snuck out from the portal hours ago and had waited for the dawn to come.
Now it was upon them and they couldn’t wait to finally see what no Apollite their age or younger had ever seen before.
The sun!
“I think so, Paris.” Urian’s heart rate picked up its pace as he smiled in eager anticipation. All his life, he’d dreamed of this moment.
Seeing daylight!
Just once. He could only dream of its warmth. The brightness. The glowing magick of it. They all tried to imagine what it was like. Their parents had tried to explain it, but it wasn’t the same as actually experiencing it for himself.
A simple thing, really, when one thought about it. Humans saw it all the time. Even cockroaches and rodents. But for those like him and Paris, those born to the Apollite race, it was forbidden.
Now they were on a tantalizing quest. To discover this unknown secret that humans possessed.
Urian had to know what it was.
Even if his father beat him black and blue for defying their laws, it would be worth every blow.
“What’s it look like?”
“Golden.” Like Paris’s hair.
Even though they were twins, they weren’t identical. Urian’s hair was colorless white, while his brother held the enviable shade that others preferred and often remarked upon as perfection.
The only thing Urian was perfect at was finding trouble.
And he found that a lot.
“Strange.”
“What is, Uri?”
“The sun,” he mumbled.
“How so?”
For one thing, it was much smaller than he’d thought. Screwing his face up, he tilted his head to study it with a stern frown. “It seems to be moving. Coming closer.”
Too close, he realized with an alarmed gasp.
“How so?”
Ah, crap! That’s not the sun! Panicking, Urian squeaked and turned toward Paris only to discover they had nowhere to run for safety.
“Uri?”
He clamped his hand over Paris’s mouth and dragged him tight against the wall to hold him there.
“Paris! Urian!”
He winced at his father’s deep, guttural growl. Aye, he knew that tone well. As did Paris. It was so fierce and angry that it caused his brother to instantly wet himself.
And Urian’s leg in the process.
Disgusted, he shoved Paris away out of habit. Only to remember too late why he’d been holding him to begin with.
Urian silently cursed both their stupidities.
“There you are!” His father’s steps headed straight for them. “Where’s your brother?”
Paris instantly pointed in his direction and outed him. Faithless turd! Unlike his best friend Davyn, Paris had never held any loyalty whatsoever. He’d turn in anyone to save his own skin.
Growling low in the back of his throat, their father handed Paris off to Trates, his second-in-command, before he snatched Urian out of his spot so that he could glare down at him with a glower that had set even their fiercest warriors fleeing in terror. And who could blame them? Almost seven feet tall, Strykerius was a massive, muscular beast of a male. The son of the god Apollo, he held even more powers than the rest of their cursed race. And while all Apollites and Daimons were born fair-haired, his father had chosen to dye his long locks jet black. Something that made him appear even more sinister and lethal than all the others combined.
But Urian was braver than most. Lifting his chin, he faced his father in spite of his fear and blinked slowly. He kept his hands at his sides, clutched into fists, even though he knew his spanking was imminent.
“You know I’m going to beat you for this transgression.”
Urian nodded. “I expected no less.”
“Three lashes for every year you’ve lived.”
“I’ll survive nine strokes.”
“From Trates.”
Fierce and loyal, Trates never hesitated at anything his father asked of him. Urian knew those lashes would hurt, yet they would cut him as much as they did Urian, for Trates couldn’t stand harming a child. That weakness was something his father hated about his second, and it was one he tried constantly to strip out of his soldier.
Urian couldn’t stand the thought of harming Trates for something that had been his bad idea. It wasn’t fair that they both should suffer. “From Xedrix.”
His father’s jaw dropped. “The Charonte demon?”
Urian nodded. “He won’t pull back from the punishment. It’s what you want, is it not?”
That set his father back and caused his jaw to drop even more. “By the gods, you are a cheeky little bastard, aren’t you?”
“Cut from the same cloth as my baba … at least it’s what Mata tells me.”
One corner of his father’s lips curved upward in wry amusement as his anger seemed to flee. “At least I know that’s not your piss on your leg.… Paris’s?”
“I’d rather not say, Baba.”
His father narrowed his eyes, then lifted him up into his arms. “I should beat you for what you’ve done. You could have been killed!”
“I just wanted to see the sunlight.”
“And I want to see my sons grow to be men, Uri. Do you understand?”
He nodded.
Fisting his hand in his hair, his father held him against his chest so tightly that it actually hurt. “Baba! Pain! Pain!”
His father let out a fierce sigh. “You don’t know what real pain is, Urian. And I pray to the gods that you never do. You’ve no idea what horrors await you in this world. Terrible things I can’t protect you from.”
Urian placed his hand to his father’s bearded cheek. “Don’t worry, Baba. I’ll keep you safe from them.”