If ambition means terrorizing people for fun, then she’s right.
“Cruelty isn’t ambition,” Griffin says with utter conviction. “Setting limits on great power takes more strength than you’ll ever have.”
My heart skips a beat. Maybe two. My Gods. Griffin just put into words what it seems I’ve been subconsciously doing my entire life. But unlike Ares, he doesn’t think I’ve thrown away my tools. He thinks I’m strong.
Mother’s eyes flick to Griffin. “Don’t speak in my presence, Hoi Polloi.” She holds up my sword, making a show of inspecting it. “Is this Thanatos? The sword you named in my honor?”
“Not in your honor,” I answer. “In warning.”
“Of my impending death?” Her laughter is like a metal rake scraping deep furrows into my confidence. “I could hand you this blade right now. You’ll never do it. You don’t have it in you, and that’s why you’re a fool and a disappointment. All that power in a useless, cowardly package. You’re the one I should have handed over to Otis instead of Eleni.”
Rage explodes in me, coloring my vision black. “Don’t talk about Eleni. Don’t even say her name. You don’t have the right.”
“You’re a failure.”
“Why? Because I don’t look forward to adding matricide to my list of family kills?” Sarcasm masks the knot around my heart, but the pressure inside me makes it hard to speak.
“Cat’s never disappointed me a day in her life,” Griffin says flatly, and the fact that no lie burns through me tells me that his capacity to forgive and forget is huge.
Mother freezes. For a moment, she looks taken aback. “Give it time. You haven’t known her long.”
“He knows me better than you do,” I snap.
“He doesn’t know the darkness in your heart.” Her expression hardens again. “He doesn’t know how you’re made.”
Well, I do. I know exactly how I’m made. More or less. On the inside, I belong to the Gods.
As if to reward my acceptance of my birthright, and maybe even my destiny, a surge of power wells up from deep inside me, and lightning webs down my arms. The Elemental Magic explodes from my fingertips, charring the ground at my feet.
I lift my magic-bright hands and aim them at Mother. “You’re the one who doesn’t know how I’m made.”
Mother spins to the side, and my bolt hits the whirling material of her gown, punching a smoldering hole through it. She turns on me, livid, and I feel her try to push a fierce mental command straight into my brain.
It strikes me like an ice pick, cold and sharp. I gasp. Pressure and pain cut me off from my magic, and it takes all my strength to fight off her silent attack. My lightning sputters and dies like a guttering torch, but I shove her so fast from my mind that she reels back.
She shakes her head, feeling the backlash of her failed compulsion. Then, sneering, she says, “You’re not entirely useless. You did take care of the Tarvan royals for me, although I can’t imagine how.”
Her tone and expression are everything they need to be in order to make me doubt. In Castle Tarva, it was Ianthe and Bellanca, Griffin and Flynn. Cerberus. I hardly did anything besides rattle my tail and run my mouth. Not entirely useless pretty much sums it up.
Mother points the gleaming tip of my own sword at me. “And now, with a little help from Thanatos, Thalyria will be mine.”
“Never.” Griffin steps in front of me again.
Mother lunges with a quick jab. Griffin shoves me back hard while evading the blade himself. Mother swings again, keeping him dodging as her left hand toys with my knife. I watch her fingers adjust, tighten. She’s going to throw.
Before I can warn Griffin, Little Bean does something that twists my insides. Her energy explodes with something that feels a lot like fright. Definitely distress. It stops my heart dead, and I know, just know, that Mother is trying to get to her again. She’s battering her mind, and Little Bean is fighting back.
My lower abdomen goes rock-hard, and my hands fly to cover it. A pained breath hisses between my teeth.
Griffin turns back to me, alarm written all over his face.
“No!” I shout, dread hurtling through me.
He whips back around in time to see Mother release the dagger. He twists in front of me and doesn’t make a sound when the knife sinks deep into his middle, but I gasp in fright.
My horrified gaze snaps back to Mother. I’m wholly unsurprised that she used Little Bean as a distraction. What I can’t believe is that I didn’t see it coming. Her throwing aim has always been average—thank the Gods—but she sneers in satisfaction anyway, flashing Thanatos in her other hand.
“The next one’s for you, Talia mou.”
The mocking endearment is like one of her stinging slaps across my face. My wings snap out in response, and her eyes widen in surprise. I hide my own surprise behind a heated glare as I grab Griffin’s arm and try to pull him behind me. His face has washed of all color.
Locking his jaw, he growls, “Stay behind me.”
“Stay behind me,” I growl back.
He looks at me like I’m insane, like he would never use me as his shield. I step around him before he can react. Maybe I am insane. I have no combat magic, and my lightning is a sham. But double standards don’t work with me, especially from the man I love.
There’s a deafening crack of timber from above, and the hermit’s house falls in on itself with a ferocious upheaval of fire and smoke, likely burying the real witch inside—already good and dead, I’m sure. Mother doesn’t leave loose ends.
Sparks roar upward from the collapsed structure, turning the sky red, orange, and black.
“Apocalyptic,” I say. “A fitting backdrop for you, Mother.”
Her eyes narrow. “Certainly your end of days.”
“How do you figure?” I ask.
“I’m the one holding the sword.”
I smile, and it’s vicious. I’ve kept this secret from her for years.
I turn invisible, and Mother gapes in shock. Ha!
I dart forward. All it takes is one sharp punch right above her elbow, and she drops the sword with a gasp. I kick it back toward Griffin. Before scrambling away, I reach out and wrench Ianthe’s circlet from Mother’s head, taking some of her hair along with it.
Mother grabs her head, her face contorting in rage and confusion. “That’s mine!”
I backpedal and reappear out of hitting distance. “Then why did Ianthe have it?”
“She took it, the little wretch.”
“Why do you want it?”
Mother eyes the circlet, her mouth flattening into a line. “Where’s Ianthe?” she asks.
“Somewhere safe.” I hope. “Out of your reach.” Definitely.
“There’s nowhere out of my reach.”
Another smile shapes my mouth into something I’m glad I can’t see. But I would like to see Mother try to confront Lycheron. Maybe get a hoof in the face.
“I’m keeping this.” I back away another step, and Griffin comes up beside me with Thanatos in his hand. I try not to think about the knife in his gut.