“I couldn’t leave you sick like this.”
Stryker reached for his wife. “She’s been so strong until about an hour ago.” A tear ran down his cheek.
Falcyn pulled the cover back to see an angry rash that covered Zephyra’s pale skin. The blisters had opened to festering wounds. “I won’t let her die. Don’t worry.”
For the first time, he felt Apollymi approach him with something more than hatred or suspicion.
She actually put her hand on him with a tenderness that was completely unexpected. “Can I help?”
“Take Medea from here so that she can’t be infected while I work.”
Nodding, Apollymi held her hand out toward Medea. “Come, child.”
Medea hesitated. “Falcyn—”
“Please … I can focus better if you’re safe.”
As much as she hated to go, she inclined her head and let go of her father’s hand, then followed Apollymi from the room.
Chewing her lip, Medea hesitated at the door to look back and listen as Falcyn chanted quietly under his breath. He cupped his dragonstone in his hand and turned it over and over. A powerful glow from the stone shot between his fingers to illuminate his face with shadows.
Apollymi pulled her from the room and closed the door.
“He’ll heal them, right?”
“Yes, I think he will.”
Then why was her gut so tight? Why did something feel so wrong? She was home now.
Yet …
Medea was so unsettled.
Apollymi hesitated as if she heard her uncertainty. “Are you all right, child?”
“I don’t know.”
Apollymi glanced back toward the door and sighed. “I should have known Apollo would do something like this. He was ever a treacherous bastard. They all were.”
She caught the heavy note in the ancient goddess’s voice. “They?”
“The Greeks. Upstart bastards. The whole lot of them. I blame Archon for their rise. Lying piece of shit. They all should have been drowned the moment they first crawled into being.”
Archon had been the king of the Atlantean gods, and Apollymi’s husband. “Why did you marry him if you hate him so?”
“He lied to me. I thought he was my Kissare returned to life. But he wasn’t. Too late, I learned it was a trick played on me to keep me under control.”
Apollymi’s eyes swam from unshed tears. “Too often we let our hearts lead our heads, and ignore signs that are sent to warn us of the truth. I wanted my Kissare so badly that I saw his face when it wasn’t there. And then when he was back, I’d been so badly burned that I didn’t believe in him or anything else, anymore. And especially not in something as cruel as love.” She drew a ragged breath. “The saddest part, Medea? Our worst hells are always made by our own bad decisions.”
And that was what terrified her the most. “How do we know when we’re making a bad decision?”
Apollymi laughed bitterly. “That’s the cruelest blow of all. We don’t. It’s only when we look back that we see clearly where we went wrong.”
“So is it wrong to love?”
A crystal tear rolled from Apollymi’s eye and froze to her flawless cheek. “That was the question I asked when I was told that my love was the cause of a war that should never have started. Not once. But twice.”
And with that, she headed for her garden, where she could mourn for her son whose birth had been cursed and who’d been torn from her arms by the prejudices and vindictiveness of others.
Life was cruel. Medea knew that better than anyone. It made no sense. There was no rhyme. No reason. Misery spared no one. Injustice baptized everyone equally, without prejudice or mercy. Sooner or later, death would come calling. Pain would stalk all hearts.
That was the nature of the beast.
Yet, she still had hope and she didn’t know why.
It made no sense to her. Truly, it didn’t. If anyone had a reason to lie down and surrender to the utter despair that was life, she would be the one.
And still …
She blamed Davyn for this stupid optimism that wouldn’t perish or go away.
And speaking of, she wanted to go check on him. If for no other reason, she suddenly felt a deep compunction to kick his ever-cheerful ass.
Yeah, that would definitely make her feel better. His neck in her hands …
In fact, every step that carried her closer to his room … and his throat, brightened her spirits. Along with the thought of beating him senseless.
As soon as she reached his door, she knocked on it. “Hey, Dav?”
Without thinking, she pushed it open, then drew up short as she saw that he wasn’t alone.
He was with a woman. Which was really, really, really strange.
Because Davyn was completely gay. In every sense of the word. And not only was Davyn naked in his bed with the woman on top of him.
The unknown woman was happily feeding from his thigh. In fact, she was so giddy, she was smacking.
Dumbfounded and horrified, Medea started to back up and leave them in peace. But just as she did so, she caught the slight, barely audible squeak from Davyn.
“Help me,” he breathed.
Yeah, that sounded more like a safe word or phrase.
Medea clutched at the doorknob, unsure if she should intervene or not. “Davyn?”
The woman looked up and hissed at her with a pair of glazed, feral eyes. Blood dripped from her chin and fangs.
Pale and weak, Davyn didn’t seem to be enjoying it. Rather, he appeared more like someone turning gallu.
Okay, this was all kinds of wrong.
“Get off him, she-bitch!” Medea rushed forward, intending to kill his attacker.
As Medea grabbed the woman’s arm and pulled her back, Davyn caught her hand in a surprisingly strong grip to keep her from making a lethal strike.
Stunned, she gaped at him. “What are you doing?”
The woman broke free of her grasp and scrambled for the door.
His breathing ragged, he shook his head. “You can’t … kill her.”
“Why ever not?”
“It’s Urian’s Phoebe. Kill her and he’ll never forgive you!”
18
Those unexpected words floored Medea and leashed her claws as she stared at the open door through which the Daimon had just vanished.
Urian’s Phoebe?
It couldn’t be. There was no way.
Davyn staggered away from her to reach for a blanket so that he could cover himself while that name sunk in past her sudden stupor.
Stunned beyond belief, Medea stood there, gaping.
No …
Wasn’t possible.
Lots of women were named Phoebe. Right?
Yeah, but he’d said Urian’s Phoebe.
“You don’t really mean Urian-Urian’s Phoebe.”
Pale and shaking, Davyn wrapped the blanket around his lean waist. His caramel skin had a grayish tint. Obviously shaken, he sat down on the bed and raked a trembling hand through his tousled blond hair. “I don’t know how, either. Like you, I thought I was dreaming at first … but it was her. I’d know her anywhere. Saw her many times over the years. It was her, beyond all doubt.”
Her thoughts reeled. “It can’t be. My father killed her.” That was what everyone had been told.