The Dragon Legion Collection

Chapter Two



The hot spill of Alexander’s seed recalled Katina to her senses.

How could she have been so foolish?

Alexander dozed in her arms as he always did after his release, looking so handsome and relaxed that Katina wished she could let him sleep. But that was impossible. She’d put everything at risk with her impulsive and passionate greeting. She wanted nothing more than to stay wrapped in his warmth, but she heard the slaves preparing the evening meal. It was becoming darker, which could only mean one thing.

Her husband, Cetos, would return. What would he do to Alexander?

“Wake up,” she whispered urgently to Alexander. “Wake up! Alexander, you must leave.” She tried to get out of the bed, but he wrapped himself around her, holding her close to his warmth. He kissed her temple sweetly and she knew he’d fall asleep with her trapped against his nude body.

If only she could have enjoyed that pleasure.

“Not yet.” Alexander opened his eyes and granted her a sleepy smile that wrenched her heart. “Give me a moment, then we’ll greet each other again. The second time is always slower, and better.” He slid his fingers into her hair and would have pulled her back down for another kiss, but Katina squirmed out of his grip.

“No!” she commanded in an undertone. “You have to leave before there is talk.”

Alexander’s smile didn’t waver. “There’s probably already talk. I didn’t sneak into the village.” Katina backed away from him, searching for her clothes. “The meal can wait,” he murmured, then patted the bed beside himself.

Katina turned away from the temptation he offered, wishing she had been able to resist him before. She tugged on her chiton and knotted the belt swiftly around her waist, noting that her hands were shaking.

Cetos had such a temper. He’d only shouted at her in the past, but she feared that finding her first husband naked in her bedroom might push him too far. She already knew that he resented her choosing Alexander over him before.

The one thing they argued about was her determination to continue to wear Alexander’s ring.

“What’s wrong, Katina?” Alexander asked softly and she spun to find that he was watching her closely. His eyes glittered and he already sat on the edge of the bed, so taut that he looked poised to leap. She hadn’t even heard him move.

“Everything is wrong!” she whispered, not knowing where to begin.

“Everything is finally right,” Alexander corrected firmly. He got to his feet with purpose and crossed the room to her side. “I’m home, and we’re together again. We’ll raise our son and maybe have a few more.” He lifted her hair and pressed an enticing kiss to the side of her neck. Oh, how well she remembered that Alexander was never satisfied with one mating.

“There’s no time for this! You must go!”

Alexander sobered and his eyes narrowed. He flicked a glance around the bedroom, his gaze lingering on the second bed. His eyes seemed to brighten, and he turned in place, clearly seeking something. “Where’s the cradle for Lysander? Is he walking yet?”


Katina was impatient with the question. She picked up one of his garments and flung it at him. “What difference? He has no use of it now.”

“What do you mean?” Alexander froze, his expression horrified. “What’s happened to him?”

“He’s grown up, of course.” Katina poked at the garment he hadn’t yet put on. “A man named Pelias came last week to collect him.”

Alexander didn’t move. “Why?”

“For the agoge,” Katina said, not understanding why Alexander should be so shocked. The mandatory military training for the young boys of Sparta was part of his legacy to their son.

Alexander sat down hard on the bed, as if his legs couldn’t support him. “But a boy must be eight years of age for the agoge.”

“Yes. Please get dressed!”

Alexander gave her a challenging look. “Eight years.”

Katina stared at him as she understood his surprise. Her fear abandoned her, replaced by a ripple of anger. “Yes, he is eight.” She propped a hand on her hip. “Don’t you know how long you’ve been gone?”

If she’d expected him to deny it or make some excuse, she was to be disappointed.

Alexander stared around the room, as if seeing it for the first time. He surveyed every detail, but avoided looking at her.

His confusion tore at her heart, but she couldn’t understand how he couldn’t know how much time had passed. What game was he playing? “How long did you think you had been gone?”

Alexander’s expression turned weary. “It’s been as thousands of years for me.”

Katina bit her lip. Alexander wasn’t a poetic man and she knew it. He could be evasive, and he wasn’t one to easily share all the secrets of his heart. Now that their moment of passion had passed, she remembered all the fault lines in their short marriage. There was so much she didn’t know about Alexander. He couldn’t literally mean thousands of years, could he? Where had he been? What had happened to him?

As much as she wanted to know the story, there was no time to hear it. Not now. “You have to leave,” she repeated. “Please, dress yourself and go.”

“Go?” Alexander frowned at her. “Katina, I’ve dreamed of returning to you all this time. Why would I leave now?”

“Because you can’t stay here.”

“Of course, I can stay here.” He became indignant. “You’re my wife...”

“I was your wife, but you left.”

Alexander stared at Katina and she knew from the intensity of his gaze that he’d guessed the truth. He took a deep breath, one that made his nostrils flare. His eyes began to glitter with a strange light, one that made Katina take a step backward. “You married again?” he asked as if this were incomprehensible.

“You sent no word,” she replied with frustration. “Not a single message in eight years! What would I think except that you’d been killed?”

He ran a hand over his head. “But if it’s been eight years, then my service is done,” he said, almost to himself, then turned to her with his eyes alight.

Katina refused to be seduced by his hopeful expression. Even so, she knew that if he touched her, she’d lose the battle. She held up a hand between them. “Wait. You knew it might be eight years? You knew and you never mentioned as much?”

“I didn’t expect it would be...”

“You should have told me!”

He stood up, looking grim. “Would you have married again if I had told you?”

She knew the promise he wanted, but couldn’t give it. “Eight years is a long time,” she replied. “I had a son. I had no husband. I had to survive. We would have starved in eight years, easily.”

“But you had your pottery...”

“And no trade in it.”

“Why not?”

“Alexander, I’m not skilled at this craft.”

“You should have been able to sell enough.”

Katina had to avert her gaze. “And there were stories...”

“What kind of stories? What did people say about you?”

“It doesn’t matter! No one would come to me to buy, and Lysander had to eat.” She spun and paced the width of the room, knowing there was no short version of the story he would accept. “You were gone, and I had no word from you. I made a choice, because I had to.”

Alexander folded his arms across his chest. His body rigid and there was a curious flicker of blue light surrounding him, although Katina couldn’t guess what it was. “Who?” he demanded in a low voice.

Katina simply held his gaze and let him guess.

Alexander swore thoroughly as he turned away from her. He marched the width of the room twice and looked as if he’d put his fist through the wall.

Katina was shocked. She had never known she could provoke him to such a visible display of anger. She supposed it was the sign of his feelings that she’d always wanted, but in this moment, she didn’t like the sight.

Alexander returned to face her. He caught her shoulders in his hands so that she couldn’t evade his gaze. “Not Cetos?” he demanded, clearly guessing that it was. “You didn’t want to marry him before.” His voice rose. “I ensured you didn’t have to!”

That blue light surrounding his body became more vivid, like a lick of lightning. Katina felt the intensity of his anger, but she was unafraid of him.

Alexander would never hurt her.

Katina held his gaze. “I had no choice,” she said, biting off the words. “No other man would have me. I did what had to be done for Lysander. Our son needed a future and I was the only one here to give it to him.” She decided she might as well tell him all of it. “I asked him to marry me.”

Alexander flinched at that, but Katina had no satisfaction from his response.

In fact, she felt sad and empty. He was back but she had to send him away, because of choices she’d made. She knew Alexander’s opinion on pledges and promises.

She lifted his hand from her shoulder, kissed his fingertips, then dropped his hand and stepped back. “You must leave now.”

Alexander didn’t move. “Was he kind to Lysander?”

“He wasn’t unkind,” Katina acknowledged, sure that Alexander would hear the difference. “He wasn’t pleased to raise another man’s son, which is why he’ll be glad that Pelias came.”

“He’s not here?”

“He was gone, trading. He’ll return tonight.” Katina frowned at Alexander’s obvious dissatisfaction with her answer. “Cetos never treated Lysander badly. He just ignored him.”

That still wasn’t enough. Alexander’s voice dropped low. “Was he kind to you?”

“I made a vow,” Katina said softly. “You, of all people, should respect that.”

“No!” Alexander retorted. He was furious, as outraged at injustice as only a man of honor could be. “No, I’m back and I will stay. You don’t love him, Katina, and you never did.”

“You don’t know that...”

“I do know that. Your body told me the truth of it.” Alexander watched as she caught her breath. “If you loved him, I would never have been in your bed again. We both know that to be true.” He put out his hand in invitation and offered her heart’s desire to her, as easily as that. “Come away with me. Let’s be together. Let’s go now.”


Katina was tempted. But now she remembered all the moments in her marriage to Alexander when she’d had doubts, when she’d known that Alexander hadn’t been telling her all of the truth for whatever reason. When they made love, she felt a powerful connection, but otherwise, he’d often been impassive and beyond her reach. She remembered her own fear that he would discover her secret, and how he might react.

She’d asked Cetos to marry her and he’d kept his vow. Cetos had ensured that she and her son survived. Cetos put no stock in the stories told about her, and even if he saw the truth, she didn’t think he’d care. She wasn’t nearly as certain what Alexander would think.

Alexander lifted a hand to her in appeal. “Katina, I love you...”

She was swayed more than she knew she should be, for love might not prove to be enough. “Will you ever leave me again?” she demanded.

Katina saw the answer in his eyes. He made no promise and she knew the meaning of that, for Alexander didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep. She saw the doubt in his eyes, and it was all she needed to know.

Her compromise was better than having nothing at all.

“If ever you cared for me, leave before Cetos finds you here,” she whispered. She saw a strange sparkle in Alexander’s eyes in the same moment that she heard her husband’s step approaching the courtyard.

“Hide!” she muttered, then swept past Alexander to welcome her husband home.



* * *



Cetos whistled to himself as he led his burro toward the house he shared with Katina and her son. It had been a long journey, but he was pleased with the results. A weight of extra coin jingled in his purse, the sound making him smile.

His trade had been terrible. The price of olive oil had dropped, due to a large supply after the last harvest, and he hadn’t been able to sell his for a price that was worth his trouble. No one wanted Katina’s pots, but that wasn’t new.

Still she had provided an unexpected asset to him, one that made all the difference.

Talk about an offer Cetos couldn’t refuse. He’d sold Katina’s son, simultaneously making up the difference in bad prices for olive oil and ridding himself of a nuisance. The boy wasn’t much trouble: it was the look of him that caused the problem. The brat so strongly resembled his father—who could have expected there to be no hint of Katina in his features? Alexander might as well have been living in Cetos’ house, every glimpse of the boy making Katina sigh for the past again.

Cetos couldn’t understand why she didn’t appreciate her good luck. He couldn’t imagine why she still longed for a man who had abandoned her, and never sent a single word of how he fared. Cetos had done her a favor in marrying her, taking on her son, even letting her stay in the house she’d inherited. But what did she do for him? She was dutiful enough, serving him at table and spreading her legs when he demanded as much.

But she had never yet given Cetos a son.

And worse, she whispered Alexander’s name in her dreams.

It was possible that she thwarted him on purpose. They all said there was something strange about Katina, that she’d been touched by the gods and would earn their blessing or punishment. Cetos had been hoping for the former, but it seemed his wife had earned the latter. He was impatient with childlessness and determined see his situation changed.

He needed a son.

He would bed her daily, perhaps twice daily, until she bred.

Then he’d do it again. He’d have half a dozen sons if it were up to him.

Cetos paused before the house, composing his story. Katina wouldn’t take well to the news that her son was to leave, but he was ready for that. He’d never tell her that he’d sold the boy: he’d say that he’d found him a paid position, providing companionship to the son of a rich man. He’d say he had to do it, to make up for the low prices of olive oil and the fact that her pots never sold. He’d say he was ensuring that the boy would eat, that he’d have an education and a future.

She’d be grateful, if he told the story right.

She’d never see the brat again, which suited Cetos well.

It was all arranged. The buyer would arrive at the house after dark, the better to ensure that the neighbors saw nothing. Cetos had planned everything perfectly. Katina would be completely beneath his hand and carrying his child before the month was out.

The merchant had been right. Cetos deserved far more from his beautiful wife than she’d given him so far.



* * *



Katina had married Cetos.

And he’d been gone eight years.

Alexander didn’t know which detail he found more astonishing. Both together were incredible. He hauled on his pants and buckled his belt, then tugged on his boots. If he’d been gone a full eight years, did that mean that his term of service to the Pyr was complete? Alexander thought it must be, but he wouldn’t make a promise to Katina until he was sure. He put on his shirt but left it open, freezing at the sound of voices in the courtyard.

She’d asked Cetos to marry her. There was another incredible detail.

But then, his Katina was nothing if not practical. If no other man would have her, she would have spoken to the one who would. He had no doubt that she would have done anything possible to ensure Lysander’s welfare, regardless of the cost to herself.

But why wouldn’t any other man have her? She was beautiful, perfect in his eyes. Alexander couldn’t make sense of that. What kind of stories had people told about her?

He also couldn’t understand how he’d missed the signs he should have noticed. As soon as he paid attention, he smelled a man’s routine presence in this room. Initially, he’d been savoring the scent of Katina and had ignored everything else. Only the joy of seeing Katina could make him forget his years of training and experience.

Alexander stood by the doorway and breathed deeply, familiarizing himself with everything in the house in an attempt to correct his oversight. He smelled now the three slaves in the house, two in the kitchen and one outside. He smelled the olive presses in the storage room, the basis of Cetos’ trade. He smelled the burro being led by the slave at the outer door to a lean-to where it would be stabled.

The evidence had been in the house, but Alexander had been too consumed with desire for his wife to notice it.

He had never met Cetos, but had heard his name. He knew him to be a merchant, much older than Katina, and a man who had been content to offer to marry the woman whose family believed she should serve the gods. He remembered also that Katina had disliked Cetos—or at least the differences in their ages—from their first encounter.

Yet she had chosen Cetos in the end.

She had pursued Cetos.

He supposed that had to be a measure of her desperation. He had abandoned her with an infant son. The fault was his, both that she had made such a marriage and that speaking of it put such shadows in her eyes. He’d heard the accusation in her tone, and her conviction that she’d had little choice.

The fact was that Katina had been poorly served, and Alexander was to blame. Eight years with no tidings? He couldn’t say that his faith would have been stalwart in her place.

Alexander might have chastised himself and regretted his choices—even though he knew he hadn’t really had a choice—but he smelled the brimstone of anger.

A man’s anger.

The scent teased his nostrils and drew him closer to the door. A heavy footstep sounded on the cobblestones, and a slave murmured to a man who responded in an impatient voice. Alexander stood silently in the shadows of the doorway, knowing who it must be. Outside, Katina stood with her hands folded before herself and her head bowed, a demure pose that made her almost unrecognizable as the opinionated and outspoken woman he loved.


Anger lit within Alexander that Cetos wanted Katina to be anything other than what she was. His prize of a wife was still poorly served, but now by this husband.

A much older man stepped into the courtyard and surveyed it with dissatisfaction. His face was creased in lines of discontent and there was something mean about his mouth. He was a large and swarthy man with small eyes. Katina hastened to remove his cloak, speaking to him in a subservient manner that Alexander despised.

He remembered all too clearly how she had averted her gaze when he’d asked if Cetos had been good to her. One glance at them together told Alexander the truth. The man was like a seething bull, filled with violence and seeking only a target for his wrath.

He wondered whether Katina had felt the weight of this man’s hand and his own fury grew.

Alexander knew his valiant Katina would take blows herself to save any other soul in the household, even a slave. She would invite them, to protect another. Had she done as much to save Lysander? The idea that she would be in a situation that might compel her to do as much infuriated Alexander, never mind that he was responsible for it. He clenched his fists at his sides, feeling the shimmer of the change.

He caught a whiff of a deep and rotten smell and his eyes widened in surprise. Was Cetos a Slayer? How could that be? There would be no Slayers for at least a thousand years, until some of the Pyr turned against mankind. All the same, the residue of the scent clung to Cetos, like the scent of a wood fire lingering in one’s cloak the next day.

There were no Slayers in this time. Alexander chose to distrust his impression. Cetos must have visited some foul place on his travels and that was the scent that clung to him. A horrible one, but not Slayer.

Despite his rationalization, the scent put him on edge. He felt himself hovering on the cusp of the shift, ready to fight to defend his mate.

One thing was for certain: Alexander wasn’t leaving this house again without ensuring Katina’s safety forever. He would see justice served, even if it meant revealing his secret to her abruptly and without explanation. He wished too late that he had told her the truth years before, but Pelias had always counseled secrecy.

He had the power to set her free of this man and he would use it. Whether Katina wanted him as her husband afterward was something he couldn’t anticipate.

That didn’t affect his resolve.



* * *



Katina knew she’d made a mistake in welcoming Alexander with such passion. Her excuse was that she’d been overwhelmed by her love for him, and her relief that he was returned. She’d never been able to hide her emotions well, and with Alexander, she felt so much that she couldn’t contain her feelings at all.

She knew though that no explanation could excuse her infidelity.

One look at the expression on Cetos’ face filled her with dread. He was a merchant who didn’t abide any situation in which he received less than his due. Katina saw the glint in his eyes and knew he suspected her of cheating him of his full measure.

Katina raced to take his cloak from his shoulders, doing her best to appear demure. That usually pleased him, although it wasn’t an easy manner for her to adopt.

“Where is your son?” he asked with impatience. “Doesn’t he come to greet me?”

“Lysander is gone,” she admitted, hoping the news would improve his mood.

It didn’t.

“What is this?” he demanded, seizing her arm.

Katina didn’t understand his anger, although she didn’t doubt it. He’d never grabbed her so roughly before and she didn’t like the change. “They came from Sparta...”

“Who?” Cetos shook her. “Who came from Sparta?”

Katina pulled her arm from his grip and took a step backward, unable to explain his attitude. “A man named Pelias. He came to collect Lysander for the agoge.”

Cetos exhaled mightily, as if mastering his fury. Katina was perplexed. Cetos didn’t usually like to have Lysander around. It made no sense that her son’s absence was making him angrier than she’d ever seen him.

On one wall of the courtyard were a number of shelves, upon which were displayed Katina’s pots and bowls. Cetos went to the display, picking up a pitcher and acting as if he intended to make a purchase. She thought his mood improved. Maybe his journey had been arduous. “And you let the boy go with him? A stranger?”

The thrum of anger underscored his words, against all expectation. “He said he’d known Alexander. He told me several stories to prove it. I had no reason to doubt him.”

“He might have lied!” Cetos snapped.

“I thought you would be glad Lysander was gone.” Katina realized she was still holding Cetos’ cloak.

Cetos turned her pitcher with such deliberate care that his move drew Katina’s eye. He’d never looked so closely at her work, and she doubted that particular piece deserved such scrutiny. “When was this?”

“Three days ago.”

“Three days. And they went to Sparta?”

“I believe so.”

Cetos abruptly spun and flung the pitcher across the courtyard. It smashed against the opposite wall, near the doorway to the bedroom. Zeta appeared in the arched opening to the kitchen, her eyes wide, but Katina dismissed her with a curt gesture. The girl fled with obvious relief.

“Worthless bitch!” Cetos roared to Katina’s shock. “How dare you send the boy away without consulting me first?”

This was ridiculous. “Lysander isn’t your son,” Katina retorted. “His fate was mine to decide, and I always believed he should follow in the tradition of his father. It’s what Alexander would have wanted for him...”

Cetos seized the shelves and pulled hard, sending the entire structure cascading to the ground. Katina’s pots shattered with a deafening noise as she watched in astonishment and dismay.

She took a step toward the shattered ceramics, then halted when she saw the rage in Cetos’ eyes. She backed away from him warily, knowing that something critical had changed between them.

She wondered if she would live to tell of it.

“You think yourself so clever, don’t you?” he snarled, stalking her across the courtyard with steady steps. “But the only time the boy might have been of use to me, you sent him away.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.” Katina backed away.

“I found him a paid position! I found him employment in the retinue of a man as wealthy as a king, a man with a son the same age as Lysander. I found him a future.” Cetos dropped his voice. “Now I must go and beg forgiveness of this man of influence, and admit to him that I am not in command of my own household.”

Katina couldn’t stop herself. “You are not in command of my son...”

“You dare to defy me, when I have done so much for you?” Cetos roared, then back-handed Katina across the face. His heavy blow sent her reeling against the wall.

She hit her head. Her hand rose to her cheek and she tasted blood.

He had struck her.

She eyed his angry expression and knew he would kill her, without remorse. She didn’t know what had happened to Cetos or why he had changed, but she wouldn’t cower before him.

“I thought a wise man never left a visible mark,” she whispered.

“Oh, I will leave you black and blue,” Cetos snarled. “I will beat you until you learn your place.” He spat at her. “And then I will toss what’s left of you out into the dirt.” Cetos seized Katina, tugging her back into the middle of the courtyard as she struggled. He flung her to the ground, wound one hand into her hair to hold her captive, then raised the other hand.


But instead of him striking a blow, Katina saw a flash of brilliant light and heat. She heard Cetos swear in astonishment. A massive dragon leapt into the courtyard, teeth bared and talons outstretched.

For a heartbeat, she and Cetos stared at the creature in astonishment. Cetos’ grip in her hair loosened at his surprise, and Katina pulled herself away from him.

The dragon’s scales were the hue of ebony and gleamed as if polished individually by a hundred slaves. The scales on its chest looked to be silver but with proximity, Katina saw they were the color of smoky amethysts. Its teeth were enormous and sharp, and its wings stretched nearly the entire width of the courtyard. It appeared as if conjured out of nowhere, but attacked Cetos with savage force.

The dragon roared and breathed a torrent of fire at Cetos, then struck him down with a fierce blow from its front claw. Cetos fell to his knees and cowered, folding his arms over his head. Katina scurried toward the wall, uncertain of the creature’s intent.

She cowered against the wall and watched. The dragon turned its gaze upon her, its expression both hungry and knowing. She caught her breath, wondering if there was any escape from this beast.

She was fiercely glad that Lysander was gone and safe.

In that instant, Cetos seized a shard of pottery and flung it at the dragon, apparently aiming for the creature’s face. The dragon roared and thrashed its tail, sending Cetos flying into the opposite wall. The dragon’s eyes flashed, then it arched its neck and breathed a stream of fire at Cetos. Katina smelled burning cloth and singed flesh. She heard Cetos scream in agony and turned her face away to avoid seeing his fate.

She supposed a better person wouldn’t have been glad that Cetos suffered.

Katina didn’t see the dragon approach until she felt the heat of its presence. She glanced up just as it snatched at her. She struggled when its talons locked around her waist in a fearsome grip. She fought against its merciless hold, knowing it was futile to even try to match its strength, then cried out when it took flight.

With her securely in its grasp.

Katina looked down at her home, unable to make sense of what was happening. She’d been captured by a dragon. The dragon was flying through the air. Was it one of the gods, having taken this form? Or was it some strange beast, created by the gods to serve some whim? Where would it take her? And why?

She was still holding the cloak she had taken from Cetos’ shoulders. She stared at it as if seeing it for the first time. Then she glanced down at the village that was dropping away beneath her feet.

The courtyard of her home was filled with broken pottery and flames. She saw the slaves run to Cetos and pour a jug of water over him, then she couldn’t see him anymore. She saw the neighbors come from their homes to investigate the noise. Several looked up, and their jaws fell slack in surprise.

Then the dragon beat its wings hard, carrying her away from all she had known. Katina looked up at the darkening sky, out over the hills, then back down at the village below.

She was astonished to realize she was glad. She dropped Cetos’ cloak and let it flutter toward the earth, a part of her past and not her future. The sight of it falling pleased her so much that she removed Cetos’ gold ring and threw it after the cloak.

For the first time in years, Katina felt free.

She owed a debt to a dragon for that. She couldn’t help but look up at the impressive creature and wonder what price it would demand as his due.



* * *



Alexander could have gnashed his teeth and screamed in frustration.

Because he’d not only possessed Cetos’ wife, but he’d attacked the man in his own home. He’d burned Cetos with dragonfire and left him writhing on the ground.

Homes should be sanctuaries and not be filled with violence. There was no doubt that Cetos shouldn’t have struck Katina, but still Alexander had been wrong to take vengeance for that in the man’s own home.

What price would he be compelled to pay for his transgression? Alexander feared it might be more years of service. He could lose all the promise brought by the darkfire, because of this impulsive choice. All the same, he couldn’t have done anything differently. He couldn’t have stood back and watched Katina be beaten. He didn’t even regret that Cetos might die of his injuries.

But Alexander did regret that he would have to pay for his crime, for he feared it would cost him all that he had been poised to regain.

How could he leave Katina again?

How could he ever win her love and trust, if he couldn’t pledge to stay with her?

Why had he been sent back to this time, if not to be united with his mate?



* * *



Cetos could smell roasted meat with sickening clarity and only gradually realized that he was the meat. His body was consumed by pain, scorching hot pain that drove all thought from his mind. It was dark and he did not know how much time had passed. There was only pain. The slaves had drenched him in water, and now knelt beside him, but he couldn’t answer their questions.

“Step aside,” commanded a man, and Cetos nearly fainted at the accented voice.

The rich foreign merchant.

The one he had to disappoint.

Of course, the merchant had arrived as arranged, in order to collect the boy. Even though he couldn’t keep the bargain, Cetos didn’t want to return those gold coins.

He also didn’t want to tell the merchant the truth.

There was something terrifying about this foreigner, something Cetos had found easy to dismiss when the man had offered him so many coins. Now, he recalled the strange cold blue of the man’s eyes and the yellow gold of his very short hair. Such coloring was seldom seen in these parts, so seldom that it seemed unreal. The merchant had spoken in an odd way too, impatient and quick, and his choice of words had made him even harder to understand.

And there’d been something else. Something Cetos didn’t want to remember.

He kept his eyes closed and pretended to be oblivious to all around him. He heard the slaves move away and felt the attention of the merchant bent upon him. Yes, that was part of it. The stillness. The focus. The intensity—as if the stranger could read Cetos’ very thoughts. It wasn’t natural. It wasn’t right. Men couldn’t be so still as this. Cetos could have sworn that the merchant knew he had a son before the question was even asked.

He wondered again if the merchant was a deity in disguise, a god come to walk amongst men for some purpose of his own.

To collect young boys, perhaps.

Why had he wanted to buy Lysander? It was too late to ask.

Cetos’ heart pounded as that man walked around him, the soles of his sandals very close, then bent over Cetos.

Cetos heard him sniff.

The sound so startled Cetos that he shuddered involuntarily. His eyelids flickered, too, revealing that he was conscious. He had time to hope that the merchant hadn’t noticed, then the visitor chuckled.

It was as terrifying a sound as Cetos recalled. It made him think the merchant enjoyed injuring others and took pleasure in their pain.

“Where is the boy?” the stranger demanded in his strangely accented speech. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our bargain?”

There was something about the merchant’s voice that made Cetos want to respond, something that compelled him to try. It was an enchanting voice, so melodious and musical. He looked up and saw once more the flames dancing in the other man’s blue eyes.

He’d seen those flames before when he’d talked to this very same merchant, although he hadn’t wanted to remember them. They were unnatural and wrong, but as soon as Cetos looked at them, he couldn’t even blink, much less look away.


“The boy,” reminded the merchant, his voice low and insistent.

“Gone,” Cetos managed to whisper.

“Gone?”

Cetos heard the displeasure in the merchant’s voice, but the pain of his burns was overwhelming him. The merchant glanced away. Freed from his commanding gaze, Cetos felt his own eyes close.

Then something sharp locked around his neck, like a claw.

He gasped and his eyes flew open. A dragon held him by the throat, those same strange flames dancing in the pupils of its eyes. It wasn’t the same dragon as had burned him. This one was enormous and brilliant yellow, the hue of topaz trimmed with gold.

A second dragon. If anything, it was more terrifying than the first one. It seemed cold and merciless, while the other had been passionate.

Where was the merchant? He couldn’t look for him, not when the flames in those eyes danced so brightly that they fascinated him.

“Where have they gone?” the dragon demanded.

Its voice was identical to that of the merchant. Cetos was shocked. Was he in the clutch of Zeus? That god dearly loved to change forms, to toy with mortal men, and to inflict punishment for no reason beyond his own amusement.

“Where?” demanded the dragon again, giving Cetos a little squeeze of encouragement.

Cetos realized a little bit late that this exchange was about more than the gold coins he’d coveted.

“Sparta,” he confessed, then choked as the talons dug more deeply into his skin.

“Are you sure?” The dragon’s voice was low and silky, inescapable.

Cetos started to agree, then had a realization. Katina had left his house. He knew she would pursue the boy to retrieve him. He knew he’d introduced doubt into her mind about her decision to send the boy to Sparta, and he knew what she would do as a result of that doubt.

He shook his head, then tried to draw breath to correct his answer. The dragon loosed its grip slightly and Cetos inhaled shakily. “Maybe Delphi,” he managed to say.

“Delphi,” the dragon repeated with a low hiss. It took a deep breath, its nostrils almost pinching shut with it and its mailed chest swelling. It turned, his eyes glittering, then abandoned Cetos.

Cetos dared to take a breath in relief. When he opened his eyes, the dragon was holding something in its talons. It looked like the scales that covered the dragon’s hide, but it was a purple so dark that it was almost black. Was it from the other dragon?

“You’ve had a guest,” the yellow dragon said, then bared its teeth in a vicious parody of a smile.

Cetos wondered what had pleased him so much, but the dragon returned to his side and he didn’t dare to ask. The dragon removed Cetos’ purse, spilled its contents into its claw and counted the gold coins. It kept the coins, tossing the empty purse at Cetos.

The gold. It had taken back the gold. Cetos moaned in disappointment.

He had no chance to argue, because the dragon opened its mouth. Cetos saw down the great dark gullet of the beast, then screamed as he was engulfed in flames for the second time. This blaze was hotter and brighter. He was dimly aware of the dragon laughing as it spewed more fire, clearly delighting in burning Cetos to a crisp.

Cetos knew he wouldn’t survive this assault.

A boy cried out in dismay, then the dragon set the entire house ablaze. Cetos heard the slaves scream as the dragon hunted them down.

There were more screams, then an eerie silence—punctuated only by the sobbing of a boy. The slaves were dead, Cetos knew it, and he soon would be as well. On every side, there was fire and heat, brilliant light and smoke. He heard the house creak before collapsing around him and becoming an inferno that would never be extinguished.

Cetos rolled to his back in agony and opened his eyes. The last thing he saw was a dragon taking flight into the night sky, something Cetos couldn’t identify clutched to its side.

The boy.

The one the dragon claimed was his son.

It was too late for regrets, but Cetos had more than one.