“I have no doubt of it. When they cannot find us in Seuthopolis, they will spread out from there.” I stared at our linked fingers as I added in a lower whisper, “It would take only the right scholar to realize why we were in the necropolis. We must return the Girdle to Penthesilea’s tomb.”
“In Troy?”
“No, in Abydos.” I hesitated before adding, “Losing the hunter means our timeline has shortened drastically. If we hope to reach the Black Sea before hunters sweep down on the ports, we will need to push hard and fast. Lauren, there is a possibility that I will need to go a separate way to lure the hunters off your trail.”
“Absolutely not,” she interjected, her grip on my hand tightening. Dark eyes flashing with unspoken warning, she continued, “We are in this together. You are not going to be allowed to do anything foolish, Mathias.”
A smile won its way free in spite of my disappointment. I shook my head. “Are you saying I’m quite stuck with you?”
“Oh yes, quite,” she replied, mimicking my accent. She squeezed our hands together, then nudged me with her shoulder. “Come on. If we need to reach the Black Sea sooner rather than later, we’d best let Ilia know.”
She started to get to her feet only to stop when I tugged her hand. Crouching back down, a myriad of questions appeared in her dark eyes but I didn’t give her a chance to voice them. Unable to resist a moment longer, I reached out to touch the hair falling forward from the confines of her shawl. Twisting a lock around my finger then releasing it, I shifted my touch to the edge of her jaw sliding my finger along her smoother skin until I reached the corner of her chin. “I love you, Lauren. Even in the cold.”
I didn’t kiss her even though I dearly wanted to do so. Instead I got to my feet, pulling her up with me. Ilia was waiting with the horses as we approached, still holding hands. His gaze lightened with a mix of pleasure and amusement as he looked from our interlocked fingers to us. He waved to the horses. “They are ready, eh, to Perperikon.”
“As fast as they can manage it,” I stated. The hunters wouldn’t linger long around Seuthopolis once they realized the trail had gone cold. And, their presence added a fire to burn through our already thinning timeline.
Our return to Perperikon was even swifter than when we had left for Seuthopolis. Arriving in the late hours of the same day, we made it to Ilia’s house with only enough energy to fall into bed. However, I slept fitfully and only for a scant three hours before I was up again. Not wanting to disturb our hosts or Lauren as she slept in the next room, I slipped out of the house.
The streets were dark with even the lanterns doused save in areas where guards gathered around braziers. I stayed away from the pockets of light and the guards. I had no intention of being brought in for questioning by an overzealous guardsman. Nor did I go near the palace. We already had too many close encounters with the dragon prince, and I did not wish to advertise to him that we were back, especially Lauren.
Lingering in the shadows on one of the rooftops, I watched the quiet streets. I wasn’t even certain what it was I was supposed to be looking for, only that there was something . . . disquiet in the night air. Not approaching danger, but something else. Or perhaps it was merely the cold of the Biting Ice that still fought to fill my mind and actions with the coldest sense of justice possible.
I had nearly decided to return to Ilia’s house when movement in the street directly below caught my attention. Someone moved stealthily through the shadows, avoiding the pockets of light with even more care than I had. Instinct prickled and whispered to follow and so I did. I stole across the rooftops on silent feet, occasionally glimpsing the shadowed figure below as I kept track of his movements. I knew he was male, and he was likely a powerful paranormal because his movements were cautious but not fearful. He didn’t want to be disturbed in his outing, but it was not due to the fear he would be outmatched. He certainly wasn’t satyr or minotaur as there wasn’t even a hint of cloven hooves. Every step was silent, almost too silent. He was dressed in a dark leather trench coat with equally dark gloves on his hands and soft-soled boots since he walked too quietly for them not to be and his face was hidden by the shadows of his hood.
Whoever he was, he had training in making his presence as little felt as possible. Soldier perhaps or at least a guard at some point. I followed the man to the city walls before I was forced to move with greater care to avoid being spotted by any sentries. He bypassed the main gates and followed the wall south before he slipped through a small postern gate. As I debated following him further, I caught sight of a glimmer on the wind. I froze as the sylph floated by, carried by the night breeze. She was focused on the man, too focused to notice my presence shrouded as I was in the shadows of a carved statue of Artemis with the Golden Hind.
Still when she passed, I didn’t immediately go back to Ilia’s house. Something was happening in Perperikon and I wanted, no, I needed to know what was going on. So I settled into a crouch and waited. An hour passed, then the midnight watch sounded with a church bell ringing in the village below, which was answered by a much deeper bell from the heart of the city. The bells sounded for two before I noticed movement again.
First the faint glimmer on the wind as the sylph rushed by, leaving a gust of air in her wake. Then, the man from earlier appeared through the postern gate. He was moving at the same unhurried pace as before, and I suspected he had not noticed the sylph’s presence. Although, something had certainly agitated her. It was enough to make me follow the man once again.
This time he spent less time winding through the city and bypassed the empty market entirely. Instead he was heading deeper into the city, toward the residential quarters. I kept pace with him until he finally ducked into a house. Something chilled inside me as I realized we were on the same street as Ilia’s house. A sense of foreboding drove me to that rooftop. I could barely hear a whispered argument until I moved toward the chimney stack. The stones were still warm and I could smell burning wood, but I could also hear the conversation. Two men, speaking in Greek, were arguing. The raspier of the two voices grumbled louder, “Where are the coins?”
“They have promised payment when you get the gate opened.”
“Rebelling against dragons tends to be deadly work, I want my share now.”
“The prince intends to enforce the dragon council’s ruling against Weard. We must admit them into the city tonight.”
“Why tonight? I thought you were certain their prey went to Seuthopolis.”
“They did but the horses are back in the stable, which means they are too.”
“Unless he returned alone.”
“Doesn’t matter. If he’s alone, he’ll know where they’ve gone.”
“Admitting the enemy inside Perperikon was never part of the deal.”
“Weard isn’t the enemy and the dragons are out of control. It’s time for us to stand against them.”
There was a scoffing sound then the raspier voice countered, “We are dragon-born. We owe the dragons—”
“Nothing! We owe them nothing, which is why we must act now. Weard will not permit the dragons to spread these lies further. By doing this, we will earn a high place in their new chain of command.”
“The hunters are after a man and woman, what makes them so important?”
“A new bounty was announced. If they are permitted to enter Perperikon, then we will also benefit from a share of the reward.”
“On the couple?”
“No. On the dragon prince.”
I had heard enough. I moved away from the chimney, intent on reaching Ilia’s house. I had just landed on the next rooftop when I heard a guttural yell. Then, two bodies crashed through the wooden door of the conspirators’ house. It seemed there was a disagreement between the men beyond their roles in an attempted coup.
For a moment I considered turning away. Going to Ilia’s house and waking Lauren so we could escape before the chaos of Weard’s plans fully erupted and made it impossible to get o
ut of the city. But that would be the easy way out. I ran to the edge of the roof and jumped down to the second story balcony before swinging over the side. I landed in a crouch just as the two men rolled into view. One I recognized as the dragon-born who had attempted to provoke me days ago but the other was a stranger, though his grey-streaked hair made me inclined to believe him the raspy speaker. He was attempting to restrain the younger man and failing. I could see a dark patch spreading across his right side, which was likely the reason he wasn’t moving as fast.
Cold flooded through me, lending a sharpness to my vision as I lunged at the two men. Tackling them both to the ground, my eyes caught the glint of steel in the faint moonlight, and I stretched to catch the dragon-born’s wrist before he could do any real damage although he scored a thin line across the older man’s cheek. We struggled for control over the blade until I slammed my fist into his ribs. The dragon-born’s hissed gasp coincided with the slackening of his grip on the dagger.
I wrenched the blade from his hand just as the older man slammed his own knife between the dragon-born’s ribs. “Traitor,” he hissed still in Greek, anger flaring orange in his eyes. “Your name will not be remembered. You will not be remembered.”
Releasing my grip on the man, I stood as he slumped to the ground. The familiar sound of the death rattle filled the air for a moment before it was silenced. I raised my scavenged dagger at the older male. “I do hope you’re not intending to let Weard’s hunters inside the walls or I will have to stop you.”
The man’s gaze flicked from the blade to my face before he bowed slightly, bending his neck as he did so. “You’ve already put a stop to it. Though this fool has been spouting nonsense about rising against the dragons for some time.”
“You should warn your prince. Weard won’t hesitate to go after his family if they believe it will weaken him.”
“I will tell him,” he stated. He held his hand out for the knife and, as I placed the hilt in his open palm, added, “And I will tell him of your role in this, Myrmidon.”
“A sylph was following this one,” I stated, ignoring his comment. “I believe she heard enough to feel alarmed as she abandoned following him in favor of making her way toward the palace.”
“Then, Perperikon will be locked down soon and all the paths will be made impassable.” The dragon-born glanced toward Ilia’s house before adding, “Go quickly.”
I bowed my head in silent thanks and ran to the house. We had no time to waste. As soon as I entered, I called, “Lauren! Ilia! We need to leave. Now!”
* * *
Lauren
The initial confusion caused by Mathias waking the house in the middle of the night hadn’t really cleared up for me. The only real change was in the fact that we were riding on a faint trail winding its way south. We stayed in the mountains, avoiding going too far down into the valleys save for when we cut through a gorge. It was almost eleven before Ilia insisted we stop the horses so they could drink from a mountain spring.
I welcomed the chance to get out of the saddle and stretch. Mathias seemed more focused on watching our back trail, despite the fact he had insisted I go between him and Ilia during the ride. Walking over to him, the only good news seemed that his gaze wasn’t as distant and cold as I had worried. “Why are we going south?”
“Can’t cross the Black Sea.”
“Mathias,” I said with more patience than I actually felt, “why not? You are very bad at explaining things whenever you change our plans, by the way.”
He looked down at me and shook his head. “Weard has placed a bounty on the head of the dragon prince of Thrace. It is only a matter of time before a true war breaks out across the paranormal communities when word gets out.”
I stared at him. “They’ve gone mad. No one hunts a royal dragon. Everyone with any sense knows that doesn’t happen. Why would they do this?” I stiffened as the only possible answer came to me almost as fast as I asked the question. “Us? They are so desperate that they’re going to provoke the dragons to get to us?”
“So it would seem.” Mathias jutted his chin at Ilia. “He says Abdera is closer, and we can make our way to Abydos from there. The hunters’ lack of discretion means they will be treated as outsiders at best and enemies at worst among the paranormals of Thrace, especially those loyal to the dragon prince. It may buy us enough time to get out of Thrace proper.”
The wind kicked up, but that wasn’t what made me shiver. “Maybe I should’ve turned myself in to Weard when I had the chance. The last thing anyone needs is another war between the paranormals. The norms will not forget such a thing this time.”
The crooked smile that appeared was as grim as his icy blue gaze. But his voice was soft as he stated, “They missed the war between rogues and the draconic clans. But Weard might be willing to risk exposure to win.” He paused then added, “This is a lot of effort for one little Spotter, Lauren.”
“You think a rogue dragon has taken control of Weard Enterprises.” At his raised eyebrow, I shrugged. “It’s the only thing about this escalation that makes sense. I’m a Spotter, after all, not exactly so powerful as to warrant a war with the dragons for my sake.”
“It is possible. But, I cannot investigate and Royal is clearly unable to do so either.”
“Well, there’s only thing left to do isn’t there? We need to finish the Trials so we can find out who let a rogue dragon take over Weard Enterprises.” I looked over at Ilia and the horses as I muttered under my breath, “I can’t believe I’m even planning such a thing.”
“Lauren . . .”
I touched his arm and offered a small smile as I met his concerned gaze. “Don’t worry. I’ve almost started not to descend into utter panic at the thought of dealing with more high numbers. Even if it’s not very comfortable.” I nodded to where Ilia was standing by the horses holding their lead reins. “Come on, it looks like the break’s over. We don’t want to hang around here too long anyway.”
The irony of our intent wasn’t lost on me. Neither was the completely overwhelming concept of not only escaping Weard’s clutches, but trying to stop a rogue dragon from creating a new war among the paranormal community. But those troubles were for a later time. I tried to keep my mind focused on the Trials. I had one more task after returning the Girdle of Hippolyta to its proper resting place. I could only hope and pray that it would be something simple. Although that did seem to be a highly unlikely outcome.
In my efforts to keep from dissolving into a panicked mess, I kept running over the first encounter with Dobri, the elder at Perperikon. As much as I rather disliked the man, he had said something about Mathias that hadn’t made any sense at the time. Something about being a Satrae, whatever that was, and naturally it didn’t make any more sense now than it had before. My best guess was it had something to do the Thracian heritage claimed by Mathias . . . a son of Dii. Dii had to be the Thracian tribe that the surviving Myrmidons assimilated into after the purge in the aftermath of Troy.
I kept worrying at the puzzle until we stopped for the second time that day. It was late afternoon and Ilia gestured at the horizon. I could just barely make out a ribbon of silver as he stated, “In Greece now, eh, but still western Thrace. I can go edge of Abdera, eh, no further.”
It didn’t surprise me when Mathias reacted to the announcement by swinging down and removing his go bag from Chavdar’s back. He held his hand out to Ilia as he said, “It will be safer for us all if we part ways here. Lauren, you can make the hike?”
“Yes.”
I swung out of the saddle and grabbed my own go bag. I stroked Eulalia’s nose in farewell while Ilia and Mathias clasped forearms. Then the satyr gave me a hug before saying, “You are his balance, eh, keep him safe.”
I couldn’t help smiling in response. “I will. Thank you for everything.”
We didn’t wait to see Ilia turn back. I was glad, as that would have been a little too final for my tastes. Even if we never crossed Ilia’s mind again, I f
elt as though the satyr was one of the few people in my life I could actually call a friend. Mathias took my go bag from me and then nodded to my satchel. “Still safe?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“All right then. Let’s go catch a boat.” He held his hand out to me, and I gladly took it as we started down the steep trail leading to the delta and the town of Abdera. God willing, we would avoid any more hunters.
* * *
Chapter Ten
Lauren
We managed to slip onto the last boat heading for the Dardanelles as the norms called the Hellespont. The Aegean Sea was almost too quiet as the ferry sailed through its waters. Of course, Mathias stated the proper name for this part of the Aegean was the Thracian Sea. The silvery white reflection of the waxing crescent moon formed ribbons across the black expanse of the sea, breaking apart and joining together at random.
I leaned my forearms against the railing of the upper deck watching the water and the occasional appearance of a horse-headed hippocampus as it chased fish in the ferry’s wake. Rubbing my hands together, I shivered as a cool breeze flowed over the water. Mathias had gone to try and find a more private option for us since the boat was filled with 7s. Despite facing and conversing with 9s in Perperikon, being stuck on a ferry full of high numbers was more than my frayed nerves could handle at the moment. It would appear that I was still a cowardly wimp when Mathias’ life wasn’t directly on the line.
A hippocampus surfaced close to the boat, seaweed tangled on the ridged fin of its arched neck to form a mane floating over the rippling water as its nostrils flared open and it snorted noisily. Its damp skin looked deceptively soft, even hair-like, although those who dared to touch one reported it felt more like a dolphin’s skin, soft and rubbery, or a shark’s skin with a rough sandpapery feel to it for the older hippocampi. I tugged my jacket closer wishing we were already at Abydos, only to gasp and bite my cheek to keep from making any real noise as my right wrist suddenly burned. The pain wasn’t anything as mild as the sensation of prickling nettles. Instead, it was hot and persistent almost as though someone held my arm over a steaming kettle.
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