“You conceived them after your husband had been transformed. The good news is, they won’t die of the Apollite curse that comes with Eumon’s bloodline. The bad news is, the gods won’t be happy that your prince thwarted said curse.” Savitar growled in aggravation. “There’s only so much mitigating I can do. Knowing the gods and those bitches in particular, I can tell you this isn’t over. They will have something new in store for us all. And it won’t be merciful.”
And he’d been right. In spite of the evidence, and Helena’s testimony over what had happened, Max had been found guilty during that first Omegrion meeting. When Illarion went to testify, Max had kept him out of it, lest he implicate himself and come under fire.
Better one should be marked than both. He’d pressed upon Illarion the necessity of keeping Helena safe and fulfilling their promise to Eumon. Something they couldn’t do if they were both being hunted.
So he’d been marked while Illarion had been left as a Katagari guard for the first Arcadian princes born to a human mother.
But for Max and Illarion, there would have been no Were-Hunters spared the sword.
Only Linus and Eumon.
Lycaon would have gladly slaughtered the rest to spare his two sons from the wrath of the Olympian gods.
One wolf and one dragon.
Seraphina stared in awe of her mate. She’d had no idea of the sacrifices he’d made for their people.
No one had. True to his Arel birth and blood, Max had borne his duties in silence. The only time he’d struck out against them was when his brothers were threatened.
When she and their children were under fire.
The worst irony was that neither he nor his brother even held a seat at the very council that had been started because of them. Rather Helena and another Drakos born from an earlier experiment between an Apollite slave and dragon had taken the first Regis positions. Helena as the Arcadian Regis, until her eldest son, Pharell, had been old enough to inherit it, and Cromus, who ceded his place to Helena’s Katagari son, Portheus, when he’d come of age.
Linus had been left to found the same wolf bloodline that had led to Vane, Fang, and Fury. Ever bitter over being forced into his wolf status, he had gladly waged blood feuds against the Katagaria and other species. And it had been his powerful testimony and leadership that had condemned Max.
His ruthless need to put down all the others and rule them that had forced Savitar to create the limanis so that the Were-Hunters would have some refuge from the gods and others out to slaughter them needlessly.
Now, Savitar pulled back and lightened the room. One by one, he met the gaze of those seated at the council table. “There you have it. Yes, Max technically drew first Were-Hunter blood, but he did so in protection of you all. Are you really going to be as the first council and condemn him again, knowing that?”
Damos Kattalakis, the descendent of Eumon and Helena who currently held the Arcadian Drakos seat, rose. His looks reminded Sera a great deal of Vane’s and he closely resembled his brother Sebastian, whom she’d met earlier.
Slowly, cautiously, he approached Max and Illarion.
His face unreadable, he removed the feathered mask that covered his Sentinel marks. Running his hand over the scales and delicate workmanship, he studied the mask before he spoke. “It is the custom of my patria to make these out of the remains of the Katagaria we’ve slain. It’s done to remind us that while they are animals, we are not. That we are civilized and descended from the blood of princes. In particular, Eumon Kattalakis.”
He dropped the mask to the floor and met Max’s gaze, then Illarion’s. “I don’t know why my great-grandmother failed to tell us of you, but I promise that if I should be fortunate enough to have dragonets one day, they will know the truth and what we owe our Katagaria cousins.” Striking his shoulder with his fist, he saluted Max. “Thank you for saving my family. As the head of the Kattalakis Drakos, I swear that should we ever hear the Bane-Cry of you, or your mates or children, every member of our patria will answer. On our honor.”
Max inclined his head and saluted him back. “Thank you.”
Smiling, Damos drew him in for a hug, then Illarion. “My father rolls in his grave.” He turned back at Savitar and scowled. “Is this why you’ve always hated me?”
Savitar nodded. “Sins of the father, brother. Sins of the father. But today, you took the right step. And I saw it.”
Snorting, Damos appeared less than amused as he turned toward Dare Kattalakis. “What of you, cousin?”
“They can kiss my furry ass. We’re still at war.”
19
“You should have eaten the wolves, little brother.”
Everyone in the room turned to look at Falcyn for his dry, emotionless, and very callous words.
He stared back, completely unrepentant. “Just saying. They’re crispy when fried. Lean meat. Low gristle. It would have saved everyone the migraine of dealing with them now.”
Fury choked. “Speaking as one of the wolves, I’m extremely offended by that.”
“Good,” Falcyn said without a hint of remorse or apology in his tone. “I’ve offended wolves and Were-Hunters alike. All I need to do now is feed on a cute, cuddly baby and my work for the day is done.”