by JoAnna Grace
Ice settled in Ryse’s muscles. That was one conversation he did not want to have. No matter his hatred for Salina, he had a deep respect for Charles Avondale, her father.
“How are you, Hayden? We’ve had little time to talk.” He studied his brother closely.
“You know me; I can drink my way through anything. It’s all rainbows and unicorns and shit.”
Ryse took a deep breath and sat silent until his aura washed over Hayden to let him know he was serious.
Hayden clenched his jaw and shrugged with jerky movements. Anger radiated from his aura. “The gods punish me, I think.”
Ryse crossed his arms and frowned. His silence forced Hayden to continue.
“They taunt me. Every night, every time I close my eyes, I dream of a woman I might never have. She seems so real. She gives me peace.” Hayden’s bottom lip quivered, his voice cracked. “Until I wake up. Then I’m back in this hell of death and confusion. I’m left wondering if the gods get a kick out of it. What’s the point of it all? Father’s death, Salina’s betrayal, Nikki’s foolishness, Avery’s absence. Why? I’m so sick of their games.” Hayden struck the stone wall he leaned against, causing his knuckles to bleed. He shook his head and scoffed.
Ryse sighed. Damn, he wished he had some answers. “Avery told me to have faith. And honestly, right about now, that’s all I can do. I have to have faith in her, if nothing else. There is a purpose for all this, brother. We must find it. Together.” Ryse held out his hand and Hayden gripped his forearm in return.
“Together.”
Brenden sat on the edge of the bed next to Avery. She reminded him so much of his sister, Meg. At least Avery would live. It crushed him to think about losing both Meg and Nikki. He didn’t think his heart could handle it.
“She’s dying, Avery,” Brenden confessed in a hushed voice. “I actually fall in love, and she’s dying. Did she tell you I kissed her?” He huffed, wiped his nose, and cleared his throat. “Finally took that chance. It was perfect. Thanks to Salina, I’ll never get to do it again. I guess it’s a moot point, though, huh? Even if she weren’t dying from this virus, the gods would punish her anyway for what she did. It’s not her fault. You think they know that?”
“Of course they do, darling.”
Lady Dynasty entered her suite on the tail end of his comment. She took one look at Brenden and her lovely face softened. It was a mental adjustment to see her in black mourning robes. Her dresses were usually bright and cheerful as she was. Today, she mirrored her clothing, depressed and heavy.
Brenden wiped his wet, red eyes and turned his face away. “My apologies, my queen. I wanted to—”
Dyna held up a delicate hand. “Do not apologize, warrior. I often speak to her as if she could respond.”
They both looked down at Avery’s sleeping form. Bren’s cheeks grew warm as he addressed Dyna again. “I guess you don’t like the fact that I’m upset over the woman who killed your husband.”
“I know the person who killed my husband, and the woman you worry over is not the murderer.” Dyna walked over to the window and peered out. “To be honest, before I knew what had truly happened, I was angry with Nikki. Now I understand her motives, her actions, the hand that forced her. I understand why it had to be Troy.” She turned her lavender eyes on him. “Nikki knew she could not harm someone Avery loved most. Ryse. Hayden. Me. And even Troy. But Nikki knew that for Salina to get the punishment she deserved, she had to do something drastic.”
“Hayden hates her,” Brenden said.
Dyna nodded, her waves of knee-length blonde hair rippling with the movement. “Hayden is grieving. His words are birthed from that grief. Do not hold it against him.”
Yankee interrupted to announce that the Avondales were less than two hours away. Dante accompanied him and would escort Dyna to meet her guests. The three warriors waited in the sitting room while Dynasty and Hanna freshened up.
Yankee and Brenden had a love-hate relationship based on their mutual respect for Ryse and love for Avery. This evening, he hoped Yankee would keep his trap shut. His nerves were shot after hearing Evander’s diagnosis of Nikki and he couldn’t handle asinine comments.
However, Yankee took up a post by the door and sat down with a book. Brenden was tempted to make a smartass comment about him being able to read at all, but he didn’t want to engage.
Yankee watched out of the corner of his eye. But when he spoke, it was to Dante. “Can’t believe you fainted.” Yankee shook his nearly bald head and chuckled. “Fucking pansy.”
Dante crossed his arms over his broad chest. “You try leashing the power of a Master Thracian and see where it gets you, tough guy. He would put you on your ass too.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Couldn’t one of you have caught me? I’ve been dizzy all day.”
The three warriors chuckled. But the joke didn’t last long.
After a moment, Yankee spoke up again. “Look, little brother. I might be the last person on Earth you want to see right now, and I don’t give a shit—”
“Yankee, not now—”
“—because I get it.”
Brenden hushed.
Yankee pursed his lips. His eyes darted between the other two men in the room. “Yeah, we all know. You love Nikki, but you need to be with Avery. I get it. Not everyone could do what you’re doing, sticking to your duty and all. But you need to get something through that furry head of yours; you too, Ken Doll.” He referred to Brenden’s shape-shifting blood and Dante’s clean-cut blonde hair. Yankee rarely addressed people by their given names. Gods forbid he show that kind of respect. “For men like us, love isn’t in the cards. We’re soldiers, my brothers. Our future is written in blood. Do yourselves a favor and get the L-word out of your heads. The only woman we need to worry about is lying in the next room.”
Brenden sighed. It was disheartening, but maybe Yankee was right. Thracian soldiers assigned to high-profile Olympians rarely mated or held steady relationships. It was simply the way of their world. He’d been foolish to think that anything could ever work out with Nikki. Maybe if he hadn’t been so distracted, he would have been able to save both Nikki and Avery. He had fought and earned the title of Guardian. Fat lot of good he was to either of them in the end.
***
PURE ACID CHURNED in Ryse’s stomach as the Deities from Europe exited their vehicle. Charles, Filene, and Ashton were far more modern than his family. Even though they had their palace in the Olympian realm, they often chose to linger in the human world. Especially Ashton. He looked like he had been interrupted during a photo shoot at the beach. His striped white shirt was open at the top, rolled up at the arms, and hung over khaki pants. Most women would throw themselves at his feet, and many had.
A faint hum began in Ryse’s temple. Dear gods, get this over with.
Charles, with his custom tailored suit and designer glasses, was not known to be a vain man. He simply desired the finer things in life. Charles and Troy had been like brothers during their younger years. The two men could not have looked more opposite. Charles was blond with blue eyes, which he’d passed down to his children. Even his wife had the same features.
Filene was as beautiful as his mother but that was where the similarities ended. Filene was not as tall, nor did she have exotic eyes like Dynasty. She kept her light-colored hair short and flipped out around her head. Unlike the floor-length gowns his mother wore, Filene walked confidently in a short dress suit and high heels.
“Dynasty.” Filene held out her hands to greet her oldest friend. Upon their contact, tears rolled down her cheeks.
Perhaps no one but Ryse noticed the way Dynasty stiffened in her arms.
“My dear friend. I’m in shock. I’m simply in shock. My heart is broken for you. To lose your mate and so tragically. I’m sorry, Dyna, so very sorry. How are you even breathing right now? I cannot imagine the depth of your suffering.”
Filene’s sympathy was real, but Ryse wondered if it would last when the smoke clear
ed.
Dynasty smiled at the other woman. “My sons keep my heart beating. It is the will of the gods that I am here. I pray daily for their strength and they lend it to me.”
“You look well. Truly, you have their grace.” Filene hugged her once more.
Ryse and Hayden greeted Charles and Filene warmly. Kind words were exchanged, condolences were given, and when Charles choked up, his honest pain was expressed. Ashton offered his sympathies, but he lacked the emotion his parents conveyed. Then again, even as a child, Ashton had been composed, the proper gentleman.
Ryse greeted all the Thracian soldiers who accompanied the Deities. These were his men, even above their duties to their charges. One of them was Xavier, Dante’s father. He would be anxious to see his son. Unfortunately, it would not be a happy reunion.
“Where is Salina?” Filene asked. “I would have expected her to greet us.”
“She is not in the palace right now. I’m sure you will see her later.” Hayden’s words were not a lie. Salina was in the prison, not the palace.
“Let’s go sit and talk, shall we?” Dyna said as she and Filene walked arm and arm to the library. The room was more intimate and the conversation that followed would be hard enough, especially if the Avondales thought others could hear.
“Will you tell us what happened to Troy?” Charles asked. “There is much speculation and I wish to get to the bottom if it.” He took a seat across from Ryse while Filene and Dyna sat next to one another, clasping hands.
Ryse waved off Hanna, who served warm drinks to everyone. If he added heat to his already churning gut, it might erupt. And what the hell was that humming in his head?
Before the European Deities arrived, Ryse, Hayden, and Dyna had discussed what would be revealed and what would be kept secret. There were some things the Avondales didn’t need to know—yet.
Dyna let her sons tell the story of her husband’s death. Hayden began. “Father held a brunch in honor of Ryse’s mating. That morning, Mother had a vision of his death. She didn’t know when or how, only that it was inevitable.”
Filene gasped. “How terrible.” She covered her mouth with her hand and began to cry. She knew all too well the burden of a Divine Grace’s visions. Tears rolled down Dyna’s face as she accepted the affections from her friend.
“Forgive me, Ryse.” Charles shook his head. “In all the confusion, I forgot that you’ve been mated recently. What a blessing. Where is your Grace?”
“Hayden should continue.” Ryse pinched his lips and looked away. He had to play the part of grieving widower, after all. Charles’s head tilted a fraction, his brow furrowed.
“Before Ryse and his bride could drink from the sacred chalice, Avery, Ryse’s mate, noticed her Shadow Lady acting strange. Being the smart girl she is—was—she put the pieces together.”
“Her Shadow Lady killed Troy?” Ashton blurted. “A maid killed a king? You can’t be serious.”
“It’s a bit more complicated,” Ryse mumbled and cast Ashton a pointed glance.
Hayden explained about the champagne, the poison, how Troy had been eaten from the inside out. The graphic nature of the murder caused Charles cringe and Filene to cover her mouth with the back of her hand as if she were going to be ill.
“Why?” Filene cried out. “Why would she do such a thing? And where is Avery? Where is your mate, Ryse?”
No one spoke. The words were razors and no matter how you handled them, they would cut into the souls of everyone in the room.
“Dynasty,” Filene pleaded, leaning in close. “What are you not saying? Please, let us bear your burden. We love you. You shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”
Dynasty cried in earnest as she lifted a hand to touch Filene’s cheek. “I wish I could keep this from you, my dearest friend. By the gods, I wish things were not as they are.” Dynasty stood and came to stand behind Ryse, leaving Filene on the other side of the room with her family.
Ryse leaned over on his knees and finished the hardest part of the story. “Nikki was under a great telepathic compulsion. The moment she confessed the name of the person who programmed her mind, she went into a coma. She is on death’s door as we speak.”
Ryse let the Avondales fill in the blanks. They knew their daughter’s skills. They knew her Olympian gifts.
“Ryse.” Charles said his name through clenched teeth. “Where is my daughter, exactly?”
Ryse held his narrowed-eyes stare, but said nothing. Charles knew.
“What? I don’t understand? What does Salina have to do with this?” Filene looked to Dyna for the answers. Ryse’s mother put a shaking hand on her throat.
“Oh dear gods and goddesses.” Charles rose from his chair and began to pace the room. He ran his hand over his hair.
“Charles?” Filene glanced from Ryse to Dyna to her husband. “Darling?”
“She did it, Filene,” he spit out. Charles braced his arms on the back of her chair and hung his head. “Salina used her telepathy to make that girl murder Troy.”
That was when the chaos began. Filene left her chair in a fit of anger. She threw her arms in the air as she denied every possibility of her daughter’s involvement. Ashton tried to defend Salina; he argued that she wasn’t nearly powerful enough to plant a virus in someone’s mind. Charles turned the color of English peas and murmured about being sick.
Hayden, Dyna, and Ryse stayed seated and kept their heads about them. This family had to come to the truth in their own way. There was no easy way to learn that your daughter, your sister, was a murderer.
“No,” Filene screamed. “I don’t believe you.” She stood in front of Ryse, who rose to meet the challenge. He towered over her, but she didn’t shrink back immediately. “It’s lies. What proof do you have? All of this is preposterous. My daughter wouldn’t kill a fly, much less murdered a man who she viewed as family. And why? She has no motive.”
“We can provide you with witnesses and all the proof you need, Filene. But do you really want to hear it?” Ryse watched the indecision on her face.
Finally, she steeled her spine and slapped Ryse across the face. “Yes. I want proof. I want to talk to these witnesses. I don’t believe any of this.”
Charles gained his footing and took his crying spouse into his arms. His eyes stayed on Ryse. His wife struck the Thracian Master and, according their laws, she could be put to death. “Filene, why would they lie about this? There is no logic in blaming this on Salina unless she is guilty. Why would they hurt us in such a way unless it were true?”
Filene pushed him away. “That is our daughter. How can you believe this so easily?”
“Because I trust Dynasty, I trust Ryse and Hayden. And I know that a darkness has grown in our daughter for the last few decades. I didn’t want to see it, and now Troy is dead because I chose to bury my head in the sand. My friend, my leader. He’s gone.” Charles coughed and sat down, his head hanging nearly between his knees. His aura was overpowering, rolling over everyone in the room in waves of hot anguish and pulses of sickening turmoil. Even Ryse recoiled under the tsunami.
Over the next couple of hours, the Castilles explained Salina’s actions to the Avondales. Although Salina’s primary motivation was to get to Ryse, it didn’t fly with any of them. Certain details were left out. Ryse’s instincts told him that they didn’t need to know about Salina’s connection with the teleporter. There was plenty to her story without those details. When Hayden told of how Salina stabbed Avery, they all paused.
“She—” Ashton swallowed hard and turned his head to Ryse. “Salina murdered your mate? Your Grace?” As a prince who hadn’t yet found his Grace, Ashton could appreciate the heartbreak Ryse felt. A Grace was what every Deity Prince longed for. “I’m sorry, Ryse. Salina has always been somewhat fixated on you, but this is far beyond what anyone could have expected. A Grace is a gift to the race, not just the man. That’s a horrible tragedy. You have my deepest sympathies.”
Ryse nodded to him and kept his
eyes averted like he was trying not to cry. He rubbed at his temples not only to play the part, but also to try and relieve the buzzing in his head.
“I want to see her.” Filene was ready to collapse. “I have to see my child. I want to know why she did this.”
“No, Mother,” Ashton said. Ryse flipped his stare to the young Prince and narrowed his eyes. Maybe it was his imagination, but the buzzing in his head seemed to be worse around the other Prince. Ashton regained his composure. “I should see her first. She might talk to me if you’re not there. You know she’s always confided in me.” He looked to Ryse. “I don’t want to upset my mother any more than necessary. If Salina is mentally unstable…”
Ryse took the hint. “Fine. General Falcon will take you to her cell.” Ryse stood to leave. “I want to meet with Xavier to discuss security measures. If you find out anything…”
“You’ll be the first to know,” Ashton assured him.
Ryse was far more concerned with the way Ashton’s aura never wavered, never showed any emotion, as if it had been frozen.
Dante would not let his nerves get the best of him, even if he did have the urge to cringe and cower under his father’s scrutiny. It was a gut reaction, one he’d lived with his entire life. Decades of his father talking down to him about his lacking performance had chipped away at his confidence. With a deep breath, he remembered that he was no longer a child. He was an Elite.
Dante’s father, General Xavier, was one of the few Olympians to show his age. Silver laced his brown hair and wrinkles spread from the edges of his eyes. Not that the man looked old by human standards, but most Olympians didn’t develope gray hair until their fifth century of life. Xavier was heading into his sixth century. Until Dante’s birth, the general and his wife were not blessed with sons, but a dozen daughters. After Dante’s birth, they had more daughters still, hoping for one more son.
Dante knew they kept trying because Xavier was not pleased with the son he was saddled with. Dante’s powers were more defensive than offensive. He was not hard and blunt, like his father, but compassionate and tactful like his mother. He was a fine soldier, so the general said, but he was not a leader and would never achieve the rank of his father and grandfather and great-grandfather.