“Aye. Peace requires sacrifices.” Agrius nodded. “We must trust in Father’s judgment.”
Thereus burned with shame. Hector and Agrius had discovered Melita’s identity on their own. His father had been aware of the dual Lapith sisters since their arrival.
Yet he’d been prancing about, playing the part of the fool these past few weeks, while others had put their reason to better use than he. No longer. The time had arrived for him to fill the role his sire had groomed him for. Abruptly, he rose. “I’m not going to lead the centaurs to war.”
“Why the bloody hell not?” Agrius growled.
Hector shot from his chair. “Aye, what substance do your pretty arguments possess if you’ve changed your mind so easily?”
Thereus slumped into his chair and shifted to the edge of his seat. “’Twas not easy. This decision has weighed heavily on me.” He groaned and leaned back. “I can’t do it. No matter how much I’d love to fight for Hades and Persephone, I have a family. I’ve left Melita and Lucian alone for too long as it is. I owe them my time. You both know Melita, her gentle nymph nature. I can’t be the one to lead an army, not with her by my side. It would kill her.”
His brothers grumbled, but Thereus’s mind was made. He cut them off. “We will support them, of course, with men and supplies. I was thinking, Petraeus might lead them. Such responsibility would aid him to mature.” And teach him to keep his hooves off other men’s wives. “I’ve no doubt he’ll make a great leader, given the chance.”
Hector settled into his chair and rubbed his chin. “Aye, ’tis time for him to prove himself.”
“He’s the only one of us without attachments,” Agrius added.
“I didn’t make this decision lightly,” Thereus huffed, “but I have to do what’s best for my family.”
As his brothers grunted in agreement, another weight lifted off his shoulders. His chest expanded, a first full breath. He’d earned their approval, was finally capable of making those mature decisions. The ones earning him the respect of his elder brothers. Hector rose and poured them each another drink.
“Enough of serious matters. We’ve a man’s last night of freedom to mourn.”
Thereus chuckled as they raised their glasses in another toast.
“To Melita!”
Today was her beginning. Melita stretched out lazily in the bed, caressed by the dawn’s warm rays. She soaked in the warmth like a cat bathing in sunlight. Shifting her face into the pillow, she inhaled. Evergreen and spice. Not a dream, then. A smile spread wide across her lips. Thereus had visited her last night, risking the wrath of Alkippe.
It warmed her from head to toe, how desperate Thereus was for her. Despite her reciprocation, Melita was far more used to yearning for him. The waiting would make it even more special. Besides, she wished to truly be a bride. Thereus would benefit from his forced patience. She smiled. She would ensure that.
She’d awoken to his lips nuzzling her neck. A lover’s whisper in the dark. “I’ve never been accused of being patient. Can’t start now.”
More soft kisses as he drew her against him, lying on the bed. “Just let me hold you.”
Deep in her soul, she worried Thereus craved her for many reasons, true love perhaps among them. Last night, he’d snuck into her bedchamber, not to devour her or satisfy carnal desires. He’d simply sought her scent, her touch. To embrace her and sense she was real, too.
He hadn’t come for the nymph. He’d come for her.
His touch, his nearness, ignited fire in her. She’d not been able to let him go without showing him how deeply she loved him as well. They’d made love, sweet and tender, full of their passionate hunger for their future together.
Her mate wasn’t a fantasy any longer. He was flesh and blood. Man. Well, centaur. Thereus possessed a collection of faults and a legion of virtues that overthrew each and every one. She loved him, but her heart declared so with absolute certainty. True love. The most powerful force on Earth. Greater even than any power of any god. Zeus’s lightning bolt could not destroy it, nor could Aphrodite’s potions create it.
True love was as mysterious as it was precious. Now it was hers. Theirs.
No sooner had she placed a toe on the ground, Alkippe rushed into the room, a dozen servants accompanying her like ducklings. They filled the tub with hot water and an assortment of herbs and flowers ‘sure to please Lord Thereus.’
Melita held her tongue, no point in noting that were she to be covered in mud, he’d still ravish her. Moaning, she sank into the perfumed water. Let Alkippe have her day. In truth, she’d waited just as long for this. Although mud would work, Melita did wish to be as beautiful as possible for her bridegroom. Today would mark their new life together. No more secrets, no more haunting, hurtful past. From today onward, they’d live for each other, and their family. It was everything she’d dreamed of.
“Come, Melita. Eat. I’ll not have the bride fainting.” Alkippe nudged a breakfast tray in front of her.
Melita dutifully consumed a pastry and some tea, though her meal collected into a heavy mass in the pit of her belly. Wedding nerves.
As the maids dried her off, Alkippe carried in her wedding gown. “The castle seamstress had stitched it together in one day. Isn’t it lovely?”
“It’s the loveliest dress I’ve ever seen.” Melita hummed as she brushed her fingers across the buttery pale fabric shimmering like millions of diamonds.
“Thank you, Alkippe.” Tears misted her vision. Her mother had never been present in her life, but Alkippe filled that role, her maternal love overflowing.
“No!” The centauress yanked out a handkerchief and wiped Melita’s eyes. “No tears by the bride on her wedding day. I’ll not have your eyes red-rimmed.”
***
Damn. Thereus adjusted his collared shirt. He snarled and tore it off, performing the morphos to centaur form. Grimacing at himself in the mirror, he switched back.
Bloody hell, what would Melita like? He didn’t want to do anything to ruin this day for her. Aside from stealing a couple of hours of her sleep last night. A wicked grin spread across his face.
His nymph had thwarted his plans. Though he craved Melita like water in the desert, he’d have been content merely having her in his arms. He snorted. When had he become such a sap? Never in his life had he slept an entire night beside a woman, not intentionally at least. A few times he’d groggily awoken in a tangle of bodies.
He shrugged. Perhaps, he’d finally matured. He’d at last been shown a female worth holding all night.
When he’d first returned to Westgard, he’d been appalled at having discarded a beauty like Melita, and was determined to bed her. How far he’d come. Yet his sentiments remained the same. He’d brave whatever the gods had in store and never let her go again. With Arsenius, he’d faced his share of monsters and together, they’d fought numerous battles. Now, he feared nothing. Except losing his family.
Thereus cleared his throat. He wouldn’t worry, not today, on his wedding day. For the second time in his life, he would wed. His first bride should have been Melita. Had he been more perceptive, he would have discovered her. The faint honeyed scent Kalliste carried hadn’t belonged to her. The scent had been Melita’s. A fragrance so powerful even her cloaking hadn’t hidden it from his nose.
Cheiron had been mistaken in choosing Kalliste, but he was correct in selecting a daughter of Pirithous. Thereus should have perceived his true bride. How different everything might have been, including Kalliste’s death. He truly did regret that. Yet he did not wish away Lucian’s existence. The Fates had their reasons, no matter how mortals would suffer for them.
A knock pounded at the door and Agrius slipped inside. Thereus shot him a huff of infinite relief. “Brother, tell me you are aware of how these things are done.”
Agrius laughed as he clapped Thereus on the shoulder. “Little brother, Melita would marry you even in the form of a pig.”
Thereus laughed, the jest easing his
nerves a little. ’Tis true. He’d met a woman who loved him regardless of his wild nature. “Aye, Agrius. Which would she prefer? The horse, the pig, or the man?”
Agrius’s eyes twinkled as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “When she first saw you, what were you?”
“A centaur.” He grinned. Melita told him she’d fallen in love the moment she’d first seen him.
“Let’s see what we can do about a compromise.” Agrius riffled through his wardrobe until he grunted in satisfaction. After his brother helped him dress, they strode to the Great Hall.
Oreius, Petraeus, and his father would arrive soon. Though they didn’t use it often, the Portal had the ability to transport them over much greater distances. Most centaurs hated the disorientation such a long trip caused, so they preferred to travel by foot.
However, when circumstances demanded, the ability to travel hundreds of miles within minutes was priceless. Oreius would no doubt bring his sons on foot, for the lads grew unruly without due exercise. Cheiron, being of an age, would use the Portal.
Thereus sank into a chair at the long table with his brothers, who acknowledged his presence with nods and continued idly playing a game of cards. He shrugged and joined them. Anything to pass the time and keep his mind off Melita, off the pruning and feminine decorating she’d be undergoing. If he knew Alkippe, the day would be tedious for his bride.
The image of her nude body in a bath blasted heat through his veins. He’d have to eradicate those fantasies, or they’d never make it through the ceremony.
Lucian burst into the room. His long hair and tail were curled and tied with ribbons. He wore a frilly shirt, a waistcoat, and a scowl upon his lips. Thereus didn’t blame him, poor lad.
Inclining his head at his father’s much more masculine dress, Lucian’s pout deepened. “Alkippe says if I soil my clothes, even a little, she’ll lock me in the dungeon. It’s not true, is it, Pappas?”
Thereus chuckled. “I’m afraid it is. See son, when it comes to weddings and such, we males must defer to our females, or face their wrath. Trust me, Lucian, should you not acquiesce, the dungeon would be the least of your worries.”
***
Melita had groaned each time Alkippe added to the list of preparations, but the time had finally arrived. At last.
Her off-shoulder gown was close-fitting, her barely covered breasts on proud display.
“The bride’s clothes must declare her fertility.” Alkippe beamed with pride in the mirror opposite Melita. It took a strong female to birth a centaur. Not a large puffy skirt, but a slim gown hugged her wide, childbirth-ready hips and flowed outward to the ground.
“No jewelry, only the bride’s natural beauty to shine,” Alkippe whispered as she laced the back of Melita’s dress.
The maid didn’t attach a veil, but left her hair long and flowing to her waist, flowers pinned throughout. A thin crown of blossoms circled her head. Melita insisted on honeysuckle.
She adjusted one flower on the crown she wore, using her powers to twirl it into her hair. There. She’d never be more ready.
She padded to the window. Wrong. She wrung her fingers to stop her hands from trembling as she peered out the window. Dozens of centaurs and Lapiths streamed toward the location of the ceremony. They’d decided to invite the village to the wedding, and to hold it outside, in one of the farmer’s meadows. A field Melita had tended two years ago. As a result, the meadow fluttered in the light breeze, a sea of summer flowers. The sun shone, gilding the meadow, though soon it would fall below the horizon.
Icy dread crept up her spine. Not at the notion of wedding Thereus. Those hundreds of eyes focused on her twisted her stomach. Everyone would be staring at the bride, commenting on every move she made. She shook out her hands. I’m Melita to them, no longer Kalliste. No more hiding beneath her fear of discovery.
King Cheiron was here. Her heart writhed at her deception, though he never had been fooled. The urge to apologize ached within her chest. She’d find a moment alone with him later.
“Focus on Thereus. On no one but him and you’ll be fine.” Alkippe’s words strengthened her. Her friend embraced her as tightly as possible without ruining her work of art.
Steeling herself, Melita departed her chambers and marched to the Portal. She stepped out of the shimmering substance and Agrius greeted her. With a reassuring grin, he bowed. “My Lady, will you allow me the honor of escorting you?”
After she nodded, he swung her upon his back so she rode side-saddle. Agrius’s gesture meant everything. It declared Thereus’s family was hers.
As they strolled down the steep path, Melita searched the field for the man who waited to claim her. At last, she caught sight of him. Thereus stood in his centaur form, as magnificent as ever. His thick hair was bound at his neck. He wore a simple ivory shirt, unbuttoned halfway, revealing the strength of his chest. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows. The pale fabric contrasted against the dark tan of his skin and the deep black of his horse half.
A perfect compromise between gentleman and pyrate. Instantly, she regretted her gown, wishing she wore something as simple.
His hungry gaze raked across her body. Perhaps not.
Lucian shuffled beside him, beaming and twitching in excitement. She smiled at him, at her family, joined at last.
Agrius lifted her down to face Thereus. She’d been foolish to be so nervous about the crowd, for she didn’t even notice them. Thereus snared her hand and she became lost in the depths of his thick-lashed smiling eyes.
The priest, a servant of Demeter, cleared his throat several times. With a grin, Thereus squeezed her hand and tilted his head to the priest, never removing his focus from her.
The priest began with a prayer to the gods, Demeter in particular.
Her whole body thrummed with energy. The closer she swayed to Thereus, the stronger the waves grew. He, too, shifted his hooves as though anxious.
The priest rambled on, until the time came for their vows.
“Melita.” Thereus claimed both of her hands in his. His steady warmth enveloped her, soothing her nerves. “The Fates have brought us together. The gods have passed favor over us. From this moment, I join my life with yours. My body to honor you. My heart to cherish you. My soul forever yours. I give myself to you.”
Thereus exhaled, hoping he’d spoken his vows correctly. Gazing into Melita’s eyes, shining with unshed tears of joy, he sensed she didn’t care about his declaration. He caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers, ignoring the priest’s scolding tsk.
When Melita had approached, he’d sworn she was a goddess. She was every centaur’s dream bride in that gown. Hell, he’d marry her nude. Clearing his throat, he halted the growl rumbling upward. He’d have had to kill every male present should that have been the case.
Almost finished. After she reciprocated the vows, he’d kiss her, toss her onto his back, and they’d disappear for the next several days. Or weeks. He grinned, unable to suppress those erotic images.
He gave her hand a tight squeeze to vanquish her likely unease at being the focus of attention. Melita repeated her vows, her voice low and sultry. “The Fates have brought us together. The gods have passed favor over us. From this—”
A female in the crowd screamed—a shrill cry that bespoke horror. An eagle soaring overhead dropped its burden on the ground in front of King Cheiron, then flew away. Thereus seized Melita with one arm, and Lucian with his other, as everyone whirled toward what had been delivered. He didn’t need to look to smell the blood. The scream was well-deserved.
Several more of the females imitated the wailing, as curses fell from the males’ lips. Thereus recognized the parcel. The severed head of one of Cheiron’s most trusted guards. Latreus. A man he’d shared many a drink with.
Inside his mouth, a scroll.
Everyone froze as King Cheiron bent and withdrew the bloodied parchment, regret and anger flashing in his scowl. He opened the scroll, growing pale as he read. Straightenin
g, he glanced at Hector. “Get everyone to the castle.”
His brothers scrambled to gather everyone and contain the panic, but the villagers scattered around the meadow like an exodus of fauna fleeing a blazing forest. Cheiron cast him a firm nod.
Thereus inclined his head, the muscles in his body gone numb. He gathered a pale and stunned Melita into his arms, swung Lucian onto his back, and fought through the crowd, every muscle in his body straining as he galloped faster than he ever had in his life.
No doubt had clouded his father’s eyes—the threat was to Melita. Thereus never fled from any fight, but he’d be damned if he allowed anyone to hurt her. Once she was safely inside the castle, he’d face his enemy.
Thereus rushed Melita and Lucian to a bench in the Great Hall. Gods, he wished she hadn’t witnessed such violence. She’d probably never seen a dead body, well, certainly not a decapitated head. Had she recognized the poor fellow as well? The pale cream of her skin grew ice cold, her chest heaving in deep breaths while she clutched a confused Lucian.
“Shh. Melita. Will you fare well? I must go to my father.” She nodded absently, so he kissed her forehead and sprinted toward the Portal. As he neared, the doorway shimmered and his family stepped inside. He cocked a brow at Agrius.
“The villagers who cannot fight have gone to the caves.” Agrius answered his questioning stare. “Petraeus is leading them.”
Eione and Delia rushed to Melita’s side. Thereus’s focus drifted to the bloodied scroll in his father’s grasp.
“What in Hades happened, Father?”
Seeming weary, Cheiron sank onto the throne. “King Pirithous has declared war.” He offered the scroll.
Thereus accepted it, perusing the scrawling. The words found no meaning in his mind, until he came across a name. Melita. “I don’t understand, Father.”
Cheiron straightened his spine, assuming a regal stance. “They are declaring we have stolen her. Should we refuse to hand her over, they will declare war. Already their army is waiting on the border. Latreus’s death was a warning, a show of power.”
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