“Yes.” Alena rubbed her temples. “But in order to learn the nature of the ward, one of us would have to trigger it.” She squatted to retrieve a rock from the ground near her feet and hurled it at the book, but the stone skimmed harmlessly across the cover.
“At least now we know the wards are sophisticated enough to identify an actual threat.”
“What now?” Alena asked, looking up at him with terrified eyes.
Gods, she was beautiful. He stroked her hair back from her face and kissed her firmly on the lips. “Here’s what will happen. I’m going to try to take the grimoire. After you see what happens to me, you will know the nature of the ward and will find a way through it.”
“No! You can’t. It could kill you.”
“You’re a healer, Alena. Whatever happens to me, you can fix. Bring me back like you did the goat.”
“Please. Please don’t make me. I wouldn’t be able to bear it. What if I don’t have the right herbs?”
He gave her a solemn smile. “Then you will go on. You’ll find a way to go back, and you will live a happy life without me.”
“No. No. You can’t do this, Orpheus.” She tugged at his arm, pleading with him.
“Why not?” Beautiful, tender Alena never failed to do the right thing. He’d wronged her once. Didn’t she understand that this time he must put her first?
“Because… because I love you, you fool.” Oh, how those words fell bittersweet on his ears.
“And because I love you, I can’t bear to see you in this place a moment more. I’m going to get that book. You take the grimoire back to Cleopatra.” Before she could protest further, he pushed her aside and leaped toward the altar, reaching for the grimoire.
Lightning formed in a circle around him, the air so charged with power that all the hair on his body stood on end. But he never reached the book. He hung, frozen in the air, the sharp tip of a glowing blade pointed at his heart. A blinding light shaped in the silhouette of a woman appeared between him and the book.
“Gods!” Orpheus cursed and found he was able to move to shield his eyes from the light. His feet came to rest on the slab of stone in front of the altar.
“Just one,” boomed a powerful female voice. “Stop, hero, and heed me.”
Alena appeared beside him and took his hand in hers. Gradually the light dimmed. Standing before them was a woman as vibrant as the Euphrates, with two horns rising on either side of her dark head, framing a red solar disk. Her arms were raised, as were two colorful wings that seemed to put off their own light.
“Isis,” Alena whispered, voice trembling. She bowed her head and dropped to her knees.
Orpheus thought he’d better show his respect as well and knelt beside her despite the pain it caused his aching legs. He didn’t think it was a good idea to anger a goddess, especially not in the heart of the underworld.
“Rise, Orpheus, Alena. Your selfless love for each other has proven your worth. You have overcome every obstacle the gods have put in your path. You have truly earned this grimoire. Now I must beg you to forgo your prize and leave it in this place where the gods protect it.”
Orpheus felt his shoulders hunch and couldn’t stop himself from speaking out. “Goddess, the gods offered Cleopatra the door. She forced us through it. We cannot go back without the grimoire or she will kill us.”
Alena squeezed his hand, her expression filled with fear for him.
“Cleopatra.” Isis scoffed. “She claims to be a reincarnation of me but is nothing more than a scared narcissist. It is Apopis, the Egyptian god of chaos, who whispers in her ear. Her time as ruler of Egypt is over. If she gets this book, all balance and order of things to come will be thrown into chaos and Apopis will grow in strength. He knows this and therefore revealed the door to Hades to her, knowing she’d leap at the promise of power. Thankfully, up until now the Greek gods have protected this grimoire. Its origins are from Zeus and Hera, you see. You have passed their tests and earned this grimoire, but if you allow Cleopatra to have it, she will stop at nothing until she rules the world.”
Alena sat back on her heels. “As Orpheus said, if we leave without it, she will kill us.”
Isis’s eyes landed on their coupled hands. “The god of chaos started this, but I am the goddess of life and magic. Do not underestimate me. I will show you the way.”
Orpheus led Alena through the golden doors and into the room where they had begun their quest. A contingent of soldiers waited for them. He hugged the golden book to his chest with one arm and held Alena in the other. He didn’t plan to let her out of his sight.
When the guards reached for the grimoire, he pulled away. “I can only give the book to Cleopatra herself. No one else!”
The soldiers seized him by the elbow and dragged them to the throne room. Cleopatra’s kohl-lined eyes widened when she saw them. Orpheus watched her fingers bend like claws and all the tiny muscles around her mouth tighten. Beside him, Alena trembled, whether from weakness or fear, he did not know.
“So you’ve survived after all, despite the predictions of my advisors.” She flashed the men by her side a murderous look before her gaze settled on Orpheus and then Alena. “Is that the grimoire?”
“Yes.” Orpheus held out the book to her.
A soldier approached him, intending, no doubt, to carry the book to his pharaoh, but Cleopatra stopped him with a hiss.
“Only I shall touch it,” she snapped. Haughtily, she descended from the dais and approached Orpheus, grasping greedily for the grimoire. Once it was in her hands, her breath quickened and she caressed it like the face of a lover.
Orpheus was relieved to be rid of the weighty tome. Gods, he was exhausted. His mouth was as dry as a stone. “Please, the quest was difficult. Allow us to leave and seek respite.”
Beside him, he heard Alena’s breath rush from her lungs in a shaky exhale.
But Cleopatra did not even look in his direction. She returned to her throne, rested the grimoire in her lap, and reached for the corner of the golden cover, her expression that of a child tearing into a gift. But when she opened the book, the pages were blank.
Orpheus and Alena crept backward.
“Seize them!” she yelled.
The guards grabbed them both again and forced them to their knees. Orpheus allowed his head to roll forward on his shoulders. When Isis had presented them with the decoy book, he’d been skeptical it would work. Now they were paying the price for the folly of the gods.
“What have you done?” Cleopatra seethed. She set the book aside and rushed Orpheus, grabbing his face and squeezing until her nails bit into his flesh.
“He’s done nothing!” Alena blurted. “Let us go. You asked for the grimoire, and we brought it to you. That is what was on the other side of the door.”
“It is blank. You have tampered with it.” Cleopatra forced the words through her teeth.
“This is what was given to us by the goddess Isis herself,” Alena yelled.
“Perhaps you must use magic to read it?” Orpheus said. His voice cracked from thirst.
“Yes. Orpheus is right. The pages are likely enchanted,” Alena added. “Now please. We’ve accomplished your quest. Let us go! We’ve had nothing to eat or drink in days.”
Cleopatra released Orpheus’s face and returned to the book. She lifted it again and stared at the blank page inside, closing and opening the cover. She held it out to a priest who stood beside her throne. He removed the falcon’s head from his scepter, lit the internal wick, sucked the flame into his mouth, and blew smoke across the page. Symbols appeared on the blank papyrus, almost as if they were alive beneath the surface.
“It’s working,” she said. “Again!”
“Please, my queen!” Orpheus begged.
“Go then. I tire of your presence.” She dismissed them with a wave of her hand.
The guards released them, and Orpheus pivoted, placing a hand on Alena’s back to guide her past the guards and toward the front of the palace.
They’d taken a few long strides when screams broke out behind them. Orpheus risked a glance back to see snakes swarming from the book. One coiled and struck Cleopatra above the breast. Her eyes locked on him.
“Stop them!” Cleopatra ordered. “Kill them. Kill them now!”
Orpheus broke into a weak run as the guards closed in. They were doomed.
Alena tugged his hand. “Sing, Orpheus. Sing!”
Chapter Eleven
Alena flinched at the intensity of the sound when Orpheus heeded her request and sang. His voice rang like a bell used to call out the spirits of the dead. The melody made her want to cry, but the tone bolstered her. This song was a weapon, and he was wielding it like a sword.
The guards froze in place and the snakes poured from the book, seeming to dance to his music. They coiled and snapped. Swords clattered to the floor. Soldiers collapsed.
Alena had never seen this variety of viper, but they must be poisonous. Black veins had already extended from the place of Cleopatra’s bite, and she clutched her throne as if she was in pain.
Orpheus’s voice gave out, cracking from weakness and thirst. He took Alena by the arm and dragged her toward the exit. Where he got the strength, she had no idea. She was so tired she could hardly stand upright. Howls of pain behind her told her the snakes had done their duty.
“Come. Quickly,” Orpheus said, ushering her around a corner and into a dark corridor.
More guards were running toward them, called forward by the screams.
“This way.”
A golden glow shone from a hidden doorway. Alena slipped into a secret passageway where Isis herself greeted them. The goddess glided through the walls of the palace, the stone arranging itself at her will. A few moments later, they emerged through a narrow doorway onto the streets of Alexandria.
Night had fallen, and Alena welcomed the cover of darkness as they slipped into the city. Already they heard a commotion and screams coming from the palace. Cleopatra was dead. The country would soon be in turmoil.
“My home is this way,” Alena said, pointing toward the river.
But the goddess shook her head. “Every soldier and citizen of Egypt will come looking for you. The guards will blame you for her death. It is easier to do than to tell the truth. If you stay here, they will kill you.”
Alena darted a worried glance toward Orpheus, but he’d gone still as midnight water. Tears welled in her eyes. “Truly, I can go no farther.”
“How do I keep her safe?” Orpheus murmured, wrapping his arm weakly around her.
When his gaze settled on her, there was no mistaking the intention behind the question. Her heart wrenched at the realization that he’d sacrifice himself for her again and again if he had to. They’d shared a deep connection in Hades. Was it possible it was all genuine and would continue now that they were back in the real world?
Isis removed a stone, shiny and veined with gold, from the folds of her dress. She held it out to them. A symbol of a tree was carved into the surface. Alena moved closer, curious about what it was.
“When the goddess Hera married Zeus, Gaea gifted her with the Garden of the Hesperides. Once you are inside this garden, your safety is assured. The creatures who live there, the garden nymphs, will see to your every need.”
Alena swallowed, her heart pounding in her chest. She was tired, so tired. “Once we’re inside. If we can get past the dragon.”
“Dragon?” Orpheus asked.
“Yes, a dragon guards the entrance,” Alena said. “Hera isn’t keen on having uninvited guests.”
“Hera,” Isis said, “is too busy chasing after Zeus to know what’s happening in her garden. She will never know you are there. And as for the dragon…” Her eyes focused on Orpheus.
He shook his head. “I can’t sing. I have nothing left.”
Alena believed him. He’d paled, and his knees were shaking. Escaping the palace had drained him.
“Orpheus, you have been called a cheater, a bastard, a louse charmer. Don’t you think dragon charmer is more fitting? After all, your ancestor Medea once sang a dragon to sleep to help her lover. Won’t you do the same for yours?”
“Oh, we’re not—” Alena stopped short when Orpheus gave her an injured look. “We’re not ready. He’s too tired.”
“I’m afraid we’re out of time,” Isis said. “If we are to have any hope of saving the lives that grow inside you, we must leave now.”
“Lives?” Alena shook her head.
Orpheus was staring at her, lips parted.
“I am the goddess of life,” Isis said. “And I see three burning candles within you. Three bright lights.”
Alena could not believe what she was hearing. She placed her hands on her abdomen, then looked to Orpheus for an explanation.
He turned to Isis. “I am strong enough for this. How do we get there?”
“Simply touch the stone and it will take you home.” Isis extended her hand to them.
Orpheus reached for Alena, and she slid her fingers into his. She must be dreaming. All this would fade with the sunrise. People didn’t talk to goddesses or travel by stone. But when she laid her fingers on the tree, the darkness seemed to wrap tighter around her, like a black blanket that squeezed out the light. When it unwrapped again, Isis was gone and they stood in the middle of an empty field.
And stared into the golden eyes of what appeared to be a very moody black dragon.
Chapter Twelve
Orpheus gazed into the face of the golden-eyed dragon, his knees trembling from either weakness or fear. The beast’s hide was black and as impervious to damage as a crocodile’s, with scales beginning behind its horned temples and running the length of its bony body. Each of its razor-sharp teeth was as long as Orpheus was tall and could no doubt shred him in an instant. That seemed to be the dragon’s general plan as it reared and glared at its prey. A golden heart shone inside its chest as if the gods had lit him internally like a lantern.
For a moment Orpheus was frozen in fear, hypnotized by the rising of its head and clacking of its claws. Would the fire in its heart spray out of its mouth and fry him to a crisp? The nostrils flared as the beast assessed him, its intelligent eyes narrowing. If nothing else, it was majestic. A majestic, beautiful beast that would soon eat him.
“Orpheus, sing!” Alena commanded desperately.
He glanced back at her. Three lights. Isis had seen three lights. He couldn’t die today. He had a family to protect and a woman he must make his wife. And if the goddess could be believed, three future children to raise. He’d do better than his father. He swore he would.
“Orpheus!” Alena screamed again.
The dragon’s lungs glowed behind its scales, filling with fire. The mouth opened.
Orpheus began to sing. The melody the magic gave to him was ancient, and he could imagine his ancestor Medea singing the same song, the life of her lover Jason on her mind just as Alena filled his thoughts now. With every last bit of strength he had, he poured himself into that song, beseeching the dragon to back away, to lie down, to fall asleep.
It was difficult work. Orpheus broke out in a drenching sweat, his knees turning to water under him. But he did not stop. He sang until his chest ached.
The dragon’s teeth clanked shut. The fire in its chest cooled. Orpheus watched in wonder as the terrifying beast circled like a dog, then lay down, curling in on itself, its great eyes drooping and then closing fully. Orpheus reached behind him and took Alena’s hand. His voice soared as he led her around the creature.
Golden gates appeared in what had been an empty field. Beyond the gates rose a breathtakingly beautiful display of flowers and trees: the Garden of the Hesperides. He pushed against the gates and found them locked. Still singing, he looked back at Alena.
She searched the ground, gouging the earth with the toe of her sandal, then digging like an animal with her fingers. Her plan became clear when she lifted a worm from the soil. “It worked with the sand dollar.”
> Orpheus swayed with fatigue. There would be no kiss for luck this time. He could not stop singing or the dragon might wake. He heard her whisper the incantation and then saw her turn a skeleton key in the lock of the gate. A jiggle, a crank, and a push and they were inside.
As soon as the gate was closed behind them, the key became a worm again, and Alena dropped it onto the soft earth. Orpheus stopped singing. His knees gave out, and he fell face-first into a patch of marigolds.
“Orpheus!” Alena rolled him over and shook his shoulders.
It had been days, maybe longer, since they last ate or drank anything other than cursed water or rotting fruit. He needed to… He needed to…
“We made it,” he mumbled, glancing at Alena, whose beautiful face was suddenly twisted with worry. “I told you all we had to do was survive.”
Epilogue
Survive they did. Garden nymphs, it seemed, loved to have something to tend to. Tending a garden was their true delight, and two ailing humans—that was a project they could not resist. Alena pondered that as the glittering faces of Nala and Ensing came into view, one nymph mopping Alena’s brow, the other helping her balance.
“Is this normal?” Orpheus asked. “Are the babies coming?”
The nymphs nodded furiously. She hoped they were right. The pain was almost unbearable. She’d delivered babies before as a healer, but it was different when they were your own. Different when there were three. Fear wasn’t an option, however. Her family needed her, and losing herself to dark thoughts wouldn’t help anything.
She focused on Orpheus, the way his cheeks had rounded these past seasons on the diet of roots and berries the nymphs helped them prepare, and she wondered at his tawny arms. So strong. So true. His body had transformed into nothing but long, lean muscle since they’d been here. She thought he looked like he belonged in a garden like this, a garden of the gods. He certainly looked like a god now with his keen blue eyes and full beard. He held her up from behind as she squatted in the way the nymphs had shown her.
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