Earth Borne

by Rachael Slate

  They were the Lords of Thessaly. A blue dun, characterized by the smoky-bluish hue of his black-tipped coat, Hector was the eldest and followed in the footsteps of their father and great-grandfathers in his wisdom. Agrius, a smoky black, stood in the middle.

  It pained him to look at the silver dapple, to witness the grief in Oreius’s eyes.

  Thereus had been born fourth, and was a true black stallion and the rogue of the family. Absent from the chamber was Petraeus, a buckskin and the youngest. He was always tending to his ruthless pursuit of accumulating wealth. Thereus would have to greet him later.

  “Well, now that we are all gathered together, what have you to say in your defense, brother?” Hector scolded him first.

  Thereus braced for the coming attack. He met Hector’s gaze carefully. “When the shipwreck happened, I assumed the gods sent me a sign. Mayhap you’d be better off without me.” He shrugged. It was true. In his youth, he’d caused them all kinds of grief—from bedding the villagers’ wives to drunken brawls that brought them endless embarrassment. So much so, they’d deemed to temper him with a wife.

  “Did you never think, not once, you careless bastard, of what would become of your wife? Your lands? The four of us, we’ve more than enough responsibilities. We didn’t need yours as well.” Oreius snorted.

  Dropping his head, Thereus accepted their verbal chastisement. He more than deserved it; he craved it. In fact, he wished they’d unleash their fury. The tension was so thick in the room, he needed to brawl. His brothers did too. They were centaurs. Such was in their nature. Physical acts meant more to them than words. Instead of replying, he faced them and dipped his upper body in the stance of submission for a centaur.

  Oreius hesitated the least, waiting only a few breaths’ time before accepting the offer of retribution. He slammed his fist into the side of Thereus’s head, making him stumble backward. The others didn’t wait for him to regain his balance. The punches rained, pelting against him as he staggered on his feet.

  By centaur custom, after each brother got in a good hit, Thereus was forgiven. Heavy panting and the scrape of hooves echoed in the chamber as his brothers backed off. He lifted his head and, judging by the copper taint on his tongue, offered them a blood-smeared grin.

  One by one, they collapsed beside him onto their father’s pristine marble floors—now spattered with scarlet droplets—and laughed heartily.

  “Aw, Thereus. We’ve missed you, lad.” Hector grabbed him about the shoulders and succeeded in ruffling his hair before he escaped.

  Returning the grin, he had to admit he’d missed them as well. Though they were overbearing and oppressive at times, they were his brothers. His family. His blood. That bond was infinite for a centaur.

  “You never did answer my question.” Oreius gnawed on a roast chicken leg.

  “Aye, Thereus, what will you do with your wife now?” Agrius added.

  Smiles crept their way onto his brothers’ faces, until they all smirked with a hidden knowledge. Well, all except for Thereus.

  “I’d assumed, well, if you’d been my wife, wouldn’t you have left? Returned to Lapith lands?” Yet Kalliste hadn’t. An uneasy weight settled in the pit of his stomach.

  As he spoke, Agrius chuckled, the others thoroughly copying him. “Brother, if you haven’t already learned, you’ll soon determine that your Lapith wife is as stubborn as any centaur.”

  “Enough.” His father’s strong voice rose above the snickers, his tone stately, that of a King, impossible to disobey. “Let me speak to my son in private.”

  His brothers launched to their feet, scattering the wine goblets and plates of meats and cheeses they’d been enjoying. One by one, they shook his hand and embraced him, wishing him luck.

  Cheiron stood before him and placed both of his hands on Thereus’s shoulders. “My son, many things have changed since you were last with us. Many things have not. Including your wife. You must think carefully now on your next actions.”

  He bent his forehead to Thereus’s. “I was wrong in forcing this marriage upon you. One cannot command the mating bond. I knew this, and yet, what were we to do? You were so wild.” A smile softened his eyes. “Do you recall when you set fire to your nursemaid’s hair?”

  They both laughed at the memory. “As a child, your escapades were at times amusing, at others, well, you can see how grey my hair has become. As you grew older, you became more unruly. We are centaurs, yes, and it is in our nature to be prone to frivolity. Yet we are also of Cheiron’s line.” Pride permeated his words, his chest puffing. “We must rise above our impulses. We must honor our ancestry. The world is not as it once was.” His father, being over twelve hundred years old, well attested to that. “The humans are changing. To reveal ourselves to them is certain extinction. We must take more precautions now than ever before. My son, I speak these words to you out of love. I pray every day that you might find a bond as strong as mine was with your mother.”

  At the mention of Queen Atalante, he stiffened. She’d died from a tragic illness half a century before. Thereus was the first to admit her absence cut a hole in him, which nothing filled. Though he’d tried. It was part of what had made him so wild. “I miss her every day, Father.”

  “As do I, my son. As do I.”

  Taking a deep breath, he faced his father and explained what had driven him to come home. About Persephone and Hades’s army and their request for centaurs to fight. “What is your will, my King? Ask it of me, and it will be done.” To add to this, he gracefully knelt, tucking one foreleg underneath his body as was the royal custom. He’d do anything to prove to his father that he, too, had changed. That he was worthy now.

  “My son.” Cheiron’s eyes misted once more. “I need time to consider what you have asked of your centaur brothers. War should never be entered into lightly. Whilst I am pondering this, I would ask that you return to your lands. Be a good Lord to your people. They are loyal still. Make amends to your wife. I am certain you will find her most worthy of your affections.”

  Indeed, he’d been discovering the same for himself. His father asked so little of him. How could he refuse?

  The answer was simple. He could not. Thereus knelt and kissed the sapphire ring upon his father’s hand.

  ***

  Though Westgard was beautiful, serene, home, Great Meteoron was majestic. Awe spread through her, parting her lips. The Meteora upon which the castle ruled must have been two thousand feet high, and as they came out of the forest, it was by far the tallest pillar around. An enormous village sprawled at its feet and farmland filled the surrounding valley. A grand stone pathway wound to the Meteora’s base.

  The sheer cliffs were dark and foreboding, though the castle itself was made of a cleanly-cut stone—alabaster marble—and studded with columns resembling a temple to one of the gods. It exuded a blissful serenity from having stood strong for eons.

  No one had ever breached this castle, nor had any battles been fought on this ground. This land knew only peace. The great and wise Cheiron had once ruled from here. Thereus’s father, Cheiron II, now reigned.

  Eager to stretch her legs, she paced while she awaited Thereus’s return.

  “If you like the view outside, wait until you see the inside,” Thereus whispered behind her.

  She spun, and smiled, not doubting his words. The palace was easily twice the size of Westgard and she silently calculated the cost of the upkeep.

  As though reading her mind, he bent to her ear and whispered, “Try double that.”

  She grinned at him, then focused on the castle. He grasped her hand and squeezed it. She made the mistake of staring into those emerald pools. Her lips burned at the memory of his kiss. If he were to repeat the gesture in front of these subjects, she’d doubtless melt against him again.

  He cleared his throat and scanned around them. “Lucian!”

  A flutter of panic seized her. She’d been so lost in Thereus’s eyes she’d stopped paying attention to where her s
on was.

  With a curse mimicking his, she parted from him and called out for their son together. Lucian did normally wander off. She forced herself to remain calm, and yet the wave of relief washing over her as she spotted Thereus chastising Lucian betrayed how tense she’d been.

  “Lucian!” She clasped her son’s hand and led them up the path.

  At the entrance to the Portal, the two guards parted for them, revealing a gilded arch twice the width and height of Westgard’s gateway. Melita held her breath as they entered.

  “Are you well?” Thereus gripped her arm and she clung to his support.

  She gave him a weak smile. “I detest these things.” They stepped out into the palace above. Thereus chuckled and kissed her cheek in reassurance. Before their embrace heated into more, Lucian wrenched from her grasp and galloped toward his twin cousins. The pair of ten-year-old boys adored four-year-old Lucian, and they were in many ways responsible for his mischievous behavior. She laughed as they ran off to play. It would be hours before they tired.

  Thereus released her and faced his siblings. Her eyes widened at the view of all five brothers together. Though they differed in coloring, each male was solidly built. Power hummed through their bodies, yet their true attraction stemmed from the tender touch she’d witnessed from each of them.

  One by one, they approached her, kissing her cheek. Petraeus neared, tension thickening the air around them like an early morning fog. She wrung her fingers and prayed the other centaurs wouldn’t sense it.

  As Petraeus bent to kiss her cheek, he murmured in her ear, “My offer still stands, darling.” He shifted away and winked at her, his unusual grey eyes sparkling.

  Gods, how she wished he hadn’t spoken those words. Worse, she’d considered accepting his offer. Her son needed a father. For that reason alone, Melita almost said yes, once. No matter how determined Petraeus was, he wasn’t for her.

  Any continuation would cause trouble. She perched her hands on her hips at his playfulness. The youngest brother possessed the confidence of one who received everything he desired. She must be the exception.

  Her husband would not react well to this. Especially since she’d never outright told Petraeus no. She’d insisted on delaying her answer as long as possible, until the end of her marriage. Why, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps the Fates coaxed her reluctance.

  Thereus whisked her away and they strolled together into his father’s throne room. Having seen Great Meteoron from the outside, she was better prepared for the elegance of the interior design. The entire room was so white it would have blinded her had the sun shone upon it. Cheiron embraced her, and the sweet scent of jasmine incense engulfed her. The wise King spent a considerable amount of time worshiping the gods and mourning his mate. As a man whose wife had been taken from him, Melita admired the absence of bitterness in him. He didn’t blame the gods. Instead, he led his subjects with a gentle yet firm hand—something she attempted to imitate.

  “How are you, my child?” The King’s eyes crinkled at the corners. He glanced between them, sniffing the air, and the warmth in his smile dissipated. She snuck a glimpse over her shoulder. Each of the brothers regarded them strangely. Suspiciously. She clamped her hands together, an anxiety churning her stomach from being under such scrutiny.

  Thereus nudged her close against his side and the unease subsided. He wouldn’t let anyone harm her. She was safe with him, mayhap even if her secret was revealed.

  Blast it. No. Such a comfort was far too dangerous to indulge.

  A low growl rose in his throat, despite his attempts to suppress it. They must be surmising that he was partially bonded to her. His arm wasn’t yet visibly marked and his mate didn’t carry the scent of their bonding. He cursed, unable to prove them wrong. A centaur’s nose was a blastedly precise thing.

  Thank the gods Kalliste didn’t seem to detect the course of their conclusions. She’d be horrified to learn that everyone would be able to smell when they, well… He cleared his throat. Musing about that certainly wasn’t going to help his situation.

  His family wouldn’t understand. Centaurs weren’t known for taking their time to court. Two weeks had passed—a torturously long period of time for any of them to remain celibate.

  All of them appeared befuddled, except Petraeus. His youngest brother had whispered into Kalliste’s ear, causing her to blush.

  Thereus barely kept his fists by his side. Just because he hadn’t claimed her yet didn’t mean he wasn’t going to. That she wasn’t spoken for.

  A maiden glided into the room, brightly breaking apart the tension, a sunbeam splitting storm clouds. He sniffed. Hmm. Agrius’s betrothed.

  “Thereus, a pleasure to meet you.” She flashed him a sweet smile.

  He grinned back. Meeting the woman his brother had chosen struck him with a great sense of approval. A striking beauty, she was tall and lithe. Her violet eyes revealed they shared the same wicked humor. “You as well, my Lady Eione.” He clasped her hand and in a brotherly fashion, kissed it, ignoring the growl emanating from Agrius. No bonded male liked his female being touched in any way by another male.

  She laughed and stepped to Kalliste with an air of grace only nobility possessed. With a wink, she wrapped her companion’s arm in hers and declared, “Come, Kalliste, let’s leave the men to their talk while we discuss matters of true importance.”

  The centaurs chuckled at the women as they sashayed from the Great Hall.

  “Wait,” Thereus called, striding to them. He would prove himself to everyone, so he snared his wife’s hand, spinning her about, and bent to claim her mouth. Their lips met with the heat of the desire they shared. Wrapping his hand around the back of her head, he held her firm as she drew away. He didn’t care that their kiss was longer and more passionate than was proper. She’s mine.

  A male cleared his throat. Thereus released her. Reluctance pulsed through his chest. What he didn’t regret was his mate’s flustered beaming as her friend grabbed her arm and hauled her away.

  After she departed, he faced the arsenal of his family.

  “Would someone explain what the bloody hell is going on?” Oreius stomped his hoof.

  “Aye,” a couple of the others grunted.

  “It is precisely what it looks like, brothers,” Thereus snapped.

  “Damn, Thereus, what in Hades is wrong with you?” Agrius shook his head.

  “Aye, what kind of game are you playing with Kalliste?” Oreius added, taking a step toward Thereus.

  He snarled as his brothers joined forces against him, their bodies tensing for a fight. Damn, if he’d fathomed it would be this bad, he’d never have come.

  Holding up his hands and stepping in between his sons, Cheiron cut through the heated words. “My son, we deserve an explanation. You’re treading a dangerous line. We can sense your horse’s urge to bond, and of course, we are protective of Kalliste.”

  “I know what I’m doing,” he growled.

  “Didn’t Eurytion declare the same?” his eldest brother Hector countered. “You’re a risk to everyone like this.”

  The chorus of berating renewed. They’d never grasp this delicate situation. Even he didn’t comprehend the emotions storming inside his heart. Though he hadn’t admitted it, he was taking a huge risk. He’d been living this way for so long, he’d forgotten.

  A half-bonded centaur was like a loaded cannon sitting atop an open flame. They all had reason to fear him. Eurytion became so crazed from the lyssa he’d raped the bride of Pirithous the first, the Lapith King. His actions initiated a war that killed thousands and forever altered their race.

  Thereus would never force his wife into his bed. He discerned the border of his control, where the line he mustn’t cross lay. He had time. Could he convince them?

  Squaring his shoulders, he faced his father. “I am being careful, Father. Kalliste’s not ready for the bonding, yet. I mean, gods, look at how I’ve treated her.” He scraped his hand across the back of his neck. He lowered
his hand and his head. “I need time to prove myself worthy of her. Please understand.” He ignored the disapproving grunts from his brothers, focusing on the wise King.

  Cheiron’s unreadable grey gaze studied Thereus. Finally, he nodded. “I believe you, my son. However, know this. If we detect any sign of madness in you, we will be forced to stop you.”

  He dipped his head in appreciation. This was the best he expected. Besides, his brothers weren’t going to have the opportunity to imprison him. He would handle this. His way.

  “Let’s speak of this no more,” Cheiron commanded. “We must discuss Thereus’s request and our position in regards to Hades and Persephone’s War.”

  His elder brothers followed their sire out of the room. Thereus paused as his youngest brother’s glare cut into his back. Whipping around, he scowled at Petraeus. “What?”

  His brother didn’t answer him, merely glowering. Damn. Petraeus was the one brother who’d not had his chance for retribution. Perhaps that was his problem.

  “Do it,” Thereus grated.

  “I’m not going to hit you, Thereus,” he scoffed. “Though I swear, if you hurt her, I will kill you.” He turned his back on him—a grave insult amongst centaurs—and followed their brothers.

  ***

  “It’s so wonderful to see you again.” Eione grasped Melita in another tight embrace.

  Even though she counted Eione among her true friends, she’d never confessed her identity to the golden-haired maiden. The fewer people who knew, the safer she was. Secrets had a way of freeing themselves, especially if the tongue speaking was not the secret’s owner. When the truth came out, she hoped Eione would side with her. A fire inside her violet eyes bespoke of her strength, and her loyalty.

  Eione had been thrilled when her mate introduced them last year, for she’d had the unfortunate circumstance of meeting with Hector and Delia first. Fortunately, she’d encountered Melita soon after, and they’d bonded over their incompatibility with Delia.

  Agrius, with his dark, hooded eyes, and sleek, chestnut horse-half, was a desirable catch. It wasn’t Agrius’s fine looks causing Melita’s heart to ache. No, it was how his eyes heated whenever they rested on his mate, the way he would pluck a wildflower and present it to her in front of his brothers, despite their taunting. He was so devoted to her, and she to him.