Enraptured

by Elisabeth Naughton

  Skyla’s lifeless body jerked. And for a second, hope resurged. Then she dissolved into nothing right before his eyes. The Orb landed with a soft thud against the wet ground.

  “What the fuck did you do?” Orpheus cried.

  Sappheire pushed to stand. “I sent her home.” She turned to Theron. “We need to talk.”

  Home.

  Thoughts, plans, options raced through Orpheus’s mind as the Sirens and Argonauts came to some understanding. An understanding Orpheus couldn’t care less about. There was only one chance now. One bargain left to make. He eyed the Orb on the ground and, before he could change his mind, picked it up.

  “Orpheus?”

  Voices echoed around him. But he ignored them. Instead he closed his eyes and pictured what once had been Skyla’s home.

  And prayed he wasn’t too late.

  Chapter 27

  “Let me get this straight,” the King of the Gods said, turning from the window where he’d been gazing out at Olympus. “You want to make a deal. The Siren’s life for the Orb.”

  “And the air element.” Orpheus stood rigid in the center of Zeus’s temple, legs apart, arms at his sides, gaze fixed on Zeus while his heart pounded hard against his chest. A heart he now knew he did have. Because of Skyla.

  The King of the Gods didn’t look all that intimidating from his vantage point. Close-cut dark hair, a youthful face with only a handful of lines around his deep-set blue eyes, clean-shaven skin, and the body of an athlete. Definitely not the white-haired, white-bearded grand-fatherly figure humans pictured him as.

  The King of the Gods eyed Orpheus suspiciously. He wanted what Orpheus had too much to jeopardize getting it now. And since he couldn’t take the Orb outright—no god could take something without it being offered—that meant Zeus had to deal.

  Take the deal. Take the fucking deal.

  “The air element already belongs to me, son,” Zeus pointed out.

  “Grandson,” Orpheus corrected. “And you can cut the familial term of endearment. We both know it means nothing. The way I see it, possession trumps ownership ties every time.”

  Zeus’s jaw tightened. He turned and placed a hand on his throne, decked out in ostentatious gold. “You have surprised me. Not many do. When I branded you a troublemaker all those years ago, I had no idea I’d still be dealing with you now.”

  “I’m thrilled I’ve amused you. Now do we have a deal or not?”

  Zeus considered for a moment. “Not quite. I have an addendum.”

  Orpheus’s chest deflated. An addendum meant only one thing. “You can’t bring her back.”

  “Oh, I can bring her back. She’ll just be…different.”

  “Define different.”

  “Same body…different soul.”

  Orpheus’s eyes narrowed. “What about Skyla’s soul?”

  “That belongs to the Fates.”

  The Fates. He needed to find Lachesis. Deal with her. Forget Zeus and this stupid addendum. Her soul was what he loved about her. Not that Barbie-doll body Zeus had given her.

  “Won’t work,” Zeus said, interrupting his thoughts. “The Fates don’t deal. Not with mortals. And the Siren was mortal. Death is part of every mortal’s life, regardless of the service.”

  Orpheus glared across the room. “I was mortal too, and they brought me back.”

  Zeus barked out a laugh. “You weren’t brought back because you were deserving. You were brought back because of guilt. Lachesis foresaw that you would be important to the Argolean’s war against Atalanta. And when the Sirens killed you the first time—justifiably, I might add—she stepped in and made a deal with Hades to bring you back. But don’t fool yourself into thinking she did so because you deserved a second chance. She did it because she felt guilty over Atalanta’s creation in the first place. You see, Lachesis encouraged the first heroes not to include Atalanta in the order of the Argonauts. From there…Atalanta chose her own path, made her own deals, and became the pain-in-the-ass goddess she is today. But make no mistake. The Fates are using you to right a wrong they are responsible for. Nothing more, grandson.”

  Orpheus thought back to his run-in with Lachesis in the mountains. You were destined for something greater than this, Orpheus. Greater than thievery and vengeance, and much greater than ignorance.

  He had no idea what he was meant for. He only knew what he needed. Panic swamped his chest. How was he going to get her back?

  He turned for the temple doors, his mind spinning.

  “If you leave here without giving me what’s mine,” Zeus announced, “you cut all ties with me. And the courtesy I have shown you as one of my own will cease to exist. I didn’t have to tell you about her soul, Orpheus. I could have made the deal and deceived you. I didn’t out of compassion.”

  Orpheus turned to face Zeus. “What compassion? You had me killed.”

  “That was never my first choice. You brought that justice on yourself. But know this. If you repeat history, my retribution will be swift. So think long and hard about this move. Your decision here could bring war or peace to the Argolean realm.”

  War was already upon the Argolean realm. War with Atalanta’s daemons and now with Hades, who had made it perfectly clear in that forest that he wasn’t backing down.

  No god could have the Orb. Not if the world was meant to go on.

  Be greater, Orpheus.

  He felt Skyla’s hand against his chest, warm and solid and real, encouraging him. And his life—both lives—spun out before him, twisting and intersecting and finally condensing into this one moment. To choosing what he wanted to be versus what he was meant to be.

  He looked down at the Argonaut markings on his arms. The markings that he’d acquired when Gryphon’s soul had been sent to Tartarus. The markings that were still there, even though Gryphon was home.

  Be greater.

  Maybe he really was meant for something greater than himself. Maybe…after all his long, lonely years of searching…this was it.

  He looked up and knew even if there was no way to bring Skyla back, he was doing the right thing.

  Finally.

  “Someone advised me not to give it to you.” He reached for the door handle. “And this time, gramps, I’m listening.”

  ***

  For the second time in only a matter of hours, Orpheus was standing before royalty. This royalty wasn’t nearly as intimidating as the last, though.

  Isadora stared down at the Orb in her hands, with the two elements nestled in their chambers, her face awash with awe and surprise. Behind her, Theron and Demetrius looked on with no way in hell expressions. Orpheus ignored the Argonauts and focused on the queen. And when her brown eyes lifted to his, he saw…relief.

  Man, he’d been such a bastard to her. He doubted a smart-ass, scheming personality like his could totally change. From what he remembered of his years as Cynurus, he’d been a sonofabitch then too. But at least his heart had changed. And his intentions.

  “I knew you’d bring the earth element back,” she said. “I didn’t expect the rest.”

  “Figured they belonged together.” He frowned as he stuffed his hands into the clean jeans he’d changed into when he’d come back to Argolea and made this decision. “Besides, I’ve lost my taste for power.”

  A warm smile cut across her face. She turned and handed the Orb to Theron, who stared at the thing as if it might jump out and bite him, then shifted back. “Thank you.”

  “I only have one requirement.”

  “Anything.”

  “The Orb can’t be destroyed until all four elements are in place. I know it’s tempting to keep it, but once we find the other two elements…I want you to promise me we’ll destroy the damn thing.”

  Isadora’s smile widened. “We?”

  Orpheus clenched his jaw, because, yeah, being a son-ofabitch was easy. Being heroic…that was a hell of a lot of work. “Yeah, ‘we.’ I’ll take Gryphon’s place with the Argonauts. Until,” he added, cutting off I
sadora’s burst of excitement, “Gryphon’s ready to come back.”

  Isadora stepped away from the desk in her father’s old office in the castle at Tiyrns. “Orpheus, you are welcome to stay on with the Argonauts for however long you want.” She placed her hand on his forearm. Right over the ancient Greek text. “You don’t need the markings of the gods to do that.”

  “These markings don’t come from the gods,” he said, looking down at her. Still stunned that she’d been able to see the good in him before anyone else.

  She squeezed his arm. “I think you might be right.”

  He nodded toward the Orb in Theron’s hands. “What about that?”

  “That,” Isadora answered, “will be locked up safe and sound. And when we have the other two elements, it will be destroyed. Just like you want. It won’t fall into the wrong hands.”

  Orpheus nodded. Glanced from Theron to Demetrius. Neither said anything, but the fatherly grin on Theron’s face and the humor in Demetrius’s eyes told him they were both relieved. And thankful.

  And skata…he needed to get gone before they did something stupid. Like congratulate him or try to hug him or some shit like that. He definitely couldn’t handle any male bonding right now.

  He turned for the door, then stopped. “There’s one more thing. I’ll serve with the Argonauts whenever they need me. But I won’t live here in Argolea.”

  Isadora’s sad smile said she could still see right through him. “I think it’s smart you stay at the colony with Gryphon. Your brother needs you there.”

  Orpheus wasn’t so sure of that. He’d gone to see Gryphon first, before coming back to Argolea, and though his brother had awoken from the sedatives Callia had given him and seemed calm, he was but a shell of what Orpheus remembered. Gone was the easygoing, strong, and confident Argonaut who’d forever been trying to set Orpheus on the right path. In his place lurked a haunted and broken man who did nothing but stare out the window with vacant eyes, shake his head as if he was hearing voices, and twitch.

  Gryphon’s time in the Underworld was too fresh. Orpheus had to hold on to hope that time and distance would bring back the brother he remembered.

  He nodded once more and left the room, heading down the hall for the front of the castle. There were a few things he wanted to pick up from his store on the other side of town. A few things he hoped might cheer his brother up.

  “Orpheus, wait.”

  His feet stilled and he looked back to see Isadora rushing after him. “What now, Isa?”

  “I just…” She took a breath, and when she looked up it wasn’t gratitude in her eyes, nor surprise. It was worry. “Are you okay?”

  He thought of Skyla—as he had every minute since she’d left him—and his attempt to bring her back. The Fates weren’t listening though, and while he could access just about any realm with his magic, the land of the Fates was closed to him. They made contact when they wanted, not when others summoned them.

  A thrumming pain radiated outward from his chest. Knowing she was gone and never coming back was something he was just going to have to get used to. But it hurt. More than he’d ever thought possible. The only thing that kept him going was the thought that one day, if he cleaned up his act enough, he just might see her again.

  Be greater.

  He was working on it. But damn, it was hard.

  “Yeah,” he said, drawing a deep breath that eased the ache just a touch. “I’m okay. For the first time in a long time, Isa, I’m exactly what I’m supposed to be.”

  ***

  “You hesitate, child. Is there a problem?”

  Skyla paused at the steps of the white ship. The one with big billowing green sails that would take her to the Isles of the Blessed, where the souls of the heroes and those who had proven themselves in life dwelt in harmony.

  A bright light shone far off in the distance, casting a sparkle over the water like a million tiny diamonds. She wanted to go. Felt the pull all the way to her toes. But something held her back.

  She faced the Fate standing at her side—Atropos, she’d heard her called—the one with salt-and-pepper hair and a long, flowing white robe. “I—I feel like I’m forgetting something. Something I’m not supposed to forget.”

  Atropos frowned and looked at her sister. The white-haired Lachesis. “This is your fault, hag.”

  “Not mine.” Lachesis grinned. “Blame Hera. She’s responsible for the soul-mate curse.”

  Skyla had no idea what they were talking about. She looked from weathered face to weathered face and knew only one thing: The hole in her heart hurt. A pain she shouldn’t have. Not when she was about to sail off to paradise.

  “If you do this,” Atropos said with a scowl, “you do so without my blessing.”

  “Now, sister hag.” Lachesis cut her a look. “Have I ever needed your blessing before?”

  Atropos harrumphed. “It is because of you this problem exists.”

  “And I will set it right.” Lachesis turned to Skyla. “What if you could go back?”

  “Go back?” Skyla’s brow dropped. “I don’t under—”

  “To the human realm.”

  The human realm. Skyla’s mind spun. Yes. She’d been human, hadn’t she?

  “Not everyone gets this choice—”

  “No one gets this choice,” Atropos mumbled, arms crossed over her chest.

  “—but you are special.” Lachesis darted a glare at her sister before refocusing on Skyla. “You sacrificed your life for another.”

  “I did?” Skyla couldn’t remember. “Who?”

  “That you can’t tell her,” Atropos snapped. “If she goes back, she has to make the choice not knowing what she’s going back to.”

  Lachesis sighed. “She’s right. There are rules. Rules even I can’t break. You have to make the decision not knowing the life you led before.”

  “Or what’s waiting for you,” Atropos added. “Could be a child molester or a rapist you’re missing.”

  Lachesis frowned at her sister again. “Or it could be a king.”

  Atropos harrumphed. “Kings are useless.”

  “Regardless,” Lachesis said, looking at Skyla again, “you have to make the decision based on what’s before you.” She held out her arm. “The Isles of the Blessed, or what you are afraid to forget.”

  The sparkling light on the horizon called to Skyla. But the Fates’ options…How could she make that decision? She tried to rationalize it and came up with only one scenario that made sense. “If I’m here, then it means I led a good life.”

  “Not necessarily,” Lachesis answered. “But one can redeem herself in her last moment and counteract all the wrong she did before.”

  “Stupid loophole,” Atropos muttered.

  “By saving a life.” The emptiness in Skyla’s chest grew larger. Until she was afraid it would swallow her whole. “If I go on the ship…”

  “Then the pain you feel will disappear,” Atropos said. “And you’ll be free—mind, body, and soul. No more suffering, no more loneliness, no more hurting. The Isles of the Blessed are Elysium. Heaven.”

  “But I’ll forget,” Skyla clarified.

  “Yes,” Lachesis said before Atropos could answer. “You will forget.”

  “And if I go back…?”

  Atropos frowned.

  Skyla looked at Lachesis. The white-haired Fate’s eyes softened. “The pain you feel will also disappear. And you’ll remember.”

  “Would I ever have the chance to come back here?”

  “That depends on you, child,” Lachesis said. “On the life you choose to lead in the human realm. Only you can make that decision.”

  Skyla looked back out over the water. The light consumed her, and the urge to climb on that sparkling ship was so strong it tugged at the center of her being. Slowly, ever so slowly, closing the hole in her chest, filling it with peace. A peace that, for some reason, she was sure she’d never really had before.

  A peace that made her forget just wha
t it was that was holding her back.

  “Time’s up,” Atropos announced. “What’s your decision, child?”

  Chapter 28

  Orpheus was pretty sure he’d never been so tired.

  He’d spent all day with Nick and his scouts, searching for daemon signs. A few new reports had come in that indicated what was left of Atalanta’s scattered army was on the move. That meant two things: either someone else was gathering daemons to build a new army, or Atalanta had found her way back from the Underworld.

  The last thought left Orpheus more uneasy than he liked. Gryphon’s ramblings that Atalanta was “out there” suddenly didn’t sound like the delusions of a crazy man.

  He’d spent the evening in Gryphon’s room, just as he’d done every night for the last week, talking to his brother, playing cards with him, trying to coax him out of the comatose state he seemed to inhabit. Nothing helped, though. Gryphon refused to leave his room. He only barely showed interest in the cards. And the twitching and head shakes were getting worse.

  Orpheus rubbed his forehead with two fingers while Gryphon tossed and turned in the big bed. The bedside light was on and the curtains were open, allowing in enough moonlight to illuminate the entire suite. But it still wasn’t enough for Gryphon. The big, tough Argonaut who’d never been afraid of anything was now scared of the dark.

  He stayed with Gryphon until his brother dozed off, then pulled the cover up to his chin and stared down at his sleeping face. Relaxed, Gryphon’s forehead smoothed and the stress he carried with him seemed to evaporate. And for a moment, as he studied his brother’s blond hair and the long dark lashes against his skin, it was like looking at the old Gryphon. The younger brother who’d never done anything but be a hero.

  Quietly, he turned off the bedside lamp and crossed to the door. One last glance back confirmed Gryphon was still asleep, so he left, closing the door softly behind him.

  He headed for the stairs. It was late, close to midnight, and he knew he could take the elevator and cross to the southern wing, but he didn’t want to wake anyone. And he needed fresh air.