Lost Lady of Thessaly (Halcyon Romance Series Book 7)

by Rachael Slate

  Their arguments flung around the room, bouncing off each other. Dread and panic dropped into Alder’s gut. This was not the welcoming he’d envisioned. He’d been wrong. They weren’t going to accept him, they never were.

  He didn’t belong here.

  ***

  Iora gaped at her brothers’ menacing snarls and threats. How dare they denounce her mate. She stepped toward Alder and reached for his hand. His fingers grazed hers before they were wrenched from her grasp as her brothers shoved between them. They blocked him from her view and she caught the fading echo of him calling her name before it snuffed out completely. Gods, where were they taking him? She pounded her fist against one brother’s brown flank, spinning about in a sea of hooves and hides.

  Panic rushed through her, icing her muscles. If they so much as harmed one curly lock on his head…

  Iora fisted her hands and contemplated employing her powers against them. She knew each of their darkest secrets and could drag every one of them into the deepest pits of suffering.

  Then, they might fathom what they were doing to her.

  Whirling around, she faced her father’s throne, strangely empty, and huffed. Where had he snuck off to? And why had he allowed her brothers to seize Alder? How convenient. Their great and wise sire had taken off, leaving them alone to solve their differences. Well, perhaps that was the point of his actions. This was her test. How badly would she fight to claim the male she loved?

  What would she give up to be with Alder?

  The answer came clear and true.

  Everything.

  “Enough!” she shouted, stomping her hooves to clash against the floors. “You have no right to separate us. No just cause for treating Alder like your enemy.”

  Her brothers and their mates circled her, keeping her closed off from wherever they’d dragged Alder.

  “He’s a traitor, Iora.” Oreius whipped his head. “Forgive me for speaking the truth, but—”

  “Ha.” She snorted. “That is some claim to make, considering you wouldn’t be united with your mates, or with me, without Alder’s aid.”

  “You cannot deny,” Thereus scratched his jaw, “that his placement with you, Petraeus, is rather convenient. He could have been a spy for Apollo all these years.”

  Iora spun to face the dark-haired centaur’s accusation. “You are the last person to accuse anyone of secrecy, Thereus, and don’t make me regret what I had planned to do for you.”

  She puffed and switched her focus to Petraeus. Surely, Alder’s best friend would defend him, but the centaur’s expression was grim and pale. “Truly? You have no words to speak in your friend’s defense?” She scoffed. “He would have died for loyalty to you.”

  Glowering at the lot of them, she flung her hands into the air. “You should be ashamed of behaving so childishly. I am more than capable of choosing my own mate. Nay, in fact, ’tis the Fates who have chosen him for me. How dare any of you to speak against their decree?” She crossed her arms and stamped her front hoof. “I am not a child, though you may see me as such, and I can assure you Alder is more worthy of my hand and my hearts than any other male. He is kind and sincere, clever and devoted. And yes, he has brought me far more pleasure than—”

  “Argh, enough lass.” Hector slapped his hands over his ears and dropped his head, and each of her brothers copied him, squirming in their hooves.

  “Well, it’s true.” She twirled her fingers in the air, then fanned them across her cheeks as she ignored their discomfort and continued to challenge their misconceptions of the underestimated satyr. “He’s a generous, formidable lover, with hardened endurance and skillful ability, and physically, he’s well-blessed with an enormous—”

  “Sweet gods, sister, will you stop?” Agrius choked on his fist.

  She smirked at her brothers, who plugged their ears and swished their tails, shuffling their hooves in severe agitation. Their mates, however, viewed her with curious interest in their wide eyes.

  Iora set her shoulders and raised her chin. “Well, it’s all true. I love him and none of you will dare stand between us.” A wave of relief surged inside her at having defended her mate, yet as it passed, another wrenching crest swelled through her.

  She pressed one hand to her middle and the other to her mouth.

  “Iora?” Eione glided forward. “Are you unwell?”

  Faintness spread into her muscles, a haze cloaking her vision. Oh, gods, no. This was precisely like what happened right before she—

  ***

  Alder gave another tug on the manacles binding his wrists and grimaced as they resisted. Iora’s bloody brothers had tied him up in the bloody dungeon. Bastards. His arms rested bound above his head, as though a mere cell weren’t sufficient to keep him from their precious sister.

  Of course, he hadn’t fought them. To struggle would only add spark to their righteous ire. Would prove he was an ally of Apollo.

  He snorted into the empty cell. This was precisely the fate he’d feared all along. That none would accept him into their fold. Not even the centaurs would have him.

  Mayhap, they were right.

  He might not be worthy of Iora’s affections, but he damned well was determined to try.

  If only they would grant him such an opportunity.

  Blasted centaurs.

  He kicked at a loose stone and it smacked off the wall, right back at his head, striking him straight in the temple. “Argh.” He snarled and shook off the pain.

  If he didn’t convince the centaurs of his fealty soon, a pebble’s strike would be the least of his concerns. Or injuries.

  Footsteps echoed from the entryway. He jerked his head toward the corridor, which filled with several figures. Some with hooves and some without. The centaurs and their mates. He scented their floral fragrances and puffed. If it had been the Amazons Delia and Kyme alone, he might have feared for his safety, but they’d brought the others with them, Eione and the nymphs, Nysa and Ekho. Ha! Petraeus’s mate.

  His friend’s lack of loyalty stung bitterly.

  Even so, he wasn’t above accepting a groveling apology.

  Centaurs weren’t exactly known for their cool-headedness, not even those of Cheiron’s line. Especially not when faced with the prospective suitor of their young sister—a male who may or may not prove to be an ally of their greatest enemy.

  Aye, he might forgive them if—

  “She’s gone.” Nysa pressed forward, the nymph’s silvery blue locks reflecting in the dim lighting.

  Gone? Had Iora given up on him and taken off? Nay, that did not sound like her.

  “What do you mean?” He tilted his head at the grief-healing nymph. It appeared the others had designated her to speak for them, a fact that pinched his chest tight. Nysa was by far the most empathetic soul and pity flickered in her sapphire eyes.

  “Nay,” he tossed his head, “don’t speak it.” Such horrible truth could not be possible.

  “Didn’t she finish her quest?” A female stepped from the group. Kyme. “Arsenius and I decided we’d stop by and see how things were.” The enormous, feral son of Ares beside her stood stoic, arms crossed, and Alder couldn’t be certain the male was on his side. “Good thing, too. We arrived just before this disgruntled lot tied a noose around your neck.” She tsked at Iora’s brothers. “I love you centaurs, but sweet gods, you make me want to strangle you. Pig-headed brutes.” She shook her head and concentrated on Alder. “So, the quest? Did you finish it?”

  “Aye,” he nodded, “but she said it would be up to the Fates to decide whether to grant her life.” Or death. He couldn’t speak the words. Couldn’t acknowledge that Iora might be torn from him.

  Nor would he accept it.

  “I can’t allow her to suffer that fate. I must go after her.” He raised his scrutiny to the gathering. “You’re going to get your wish. Kill me.”

  Kyme folded her arms. “I was afraid you were going to say something reckless like that.” She opened the cell door and u
nlocked his manacles. “But let’s not be rash about this. No one here is going to kill you.”

  He frowned. “How else can I enter the Underworld?”

  The corner of her lips quirked. “I know just the nymph who can help us.”

  ***

  Alder grimaced at the inky vial. Unlike the others they’d recovered from the Lapith King’s lair, this one neither glowed nor sparkled with any semblance of allure. Instead, the thick, murky ooze slugged through the cylinder as he twisted it about in his palm. “Are you certain this will work?”

  “Not at all,” Kyme chirped.

  He glared at her less-than-optimistic response, but she lifted and dropped a shoulder. “If you wish to venture to the realm of the dead, and possibly return to the land of the living, this is your best chance. This liquid will kill you, but very, very slowly.”

  “How reassuring.” He drew his brows together and uncorked the vial, peering into its contents. “What do I do once I’ve found her?”

  Again, a shrug. “Something pulled Iora down there. My best guess is to determine a way to free her.”

  Helpful, sort of. He hadn’t come this far to lose the woman he loved to any enemy, not even to death. Somehow, he would bring her back.

  “Remember, you don’t have much time. I have the cure here,” she tapped a sparkling white vial, “but I’ll wait until the last second to use it.”

  He huffed at the pristine vial. A pity he couldn’t drink that one instead. No doubt this one would taste as foul as it smelled.

  Alder raised the vial to his lips and drank, then reclined upon the stone bench.

  “Iora, my love, I’m coming for you.”

  ***

  Iora shuddered and rubbed her arms. Her body didn’t feel dead, not with this shiver coursing through her.

  What other explanation could there be for why she’d been torn from the land of the living into this darkened, gloomy place? Yet, it wasn’t the Underworld. She’d traveled to the realm of Hades and Persephone many times, and nay, this was not it.

  This was somewhere else.

  A low chuckle rumbled from across the stone chamber. Squinting into the darkness, she sensed another presence. She squeezed her fists together, the flicker of her powers sparking along her fingertips.

  The scrape of hooves screeched against the stone floor and icy dread spiraled down her spine.

  Oh, no.

  “Hello, strumpet.”

  Bitterness rose in her throat as a familiar stench fanned across her face, and she gazed into flickering crimson eyes. “Lykon,” she ground, clenching her fists tighter.

  “A pleasure to see you again, Lady Iora.” He flashed his stained, uneven teeth at her, then dipped his stare to her hands. “I wouldn’t bother with your pretty powers. The dead don’t suffer loss.”

  She swallowed hard as her mind spun. So, he was dead. Yet she was not?

  “Ah, I can see you’re confused. Allow me to lend clarification to your situation.” He flicked his wrist through the air. “I am dead, thanks to that bastard sapling, but we are not in the realm of the Underworld.”

  “Where are we?” She narrowed her brows.

  He cast her a menacing sneer and bent to whisper into her ear, “In the lair of your enemy, and my, but he is hungry for you.”

  ***

  Alder’s eyes shot wide and he gasped, struggling for air that flowed thickly into his lungs. He’d anticipated awakening in a dim, gloomy realm full of wailing souls awaiting judgement.

  This chamber was nothing resembling that image. Instead, bright halls decorated with colorful bouquets of spring flowers and cheery tapestries greeted his scrutiny.

  He scratched his jaw. Mayhap the potion had sent him somewhere else?

  “My child,” a sweetly feminine voice intoned from behind him, “why have you come here?”

  He whirled around and gawked at the goddess Persephone. She was precisely as lovely as the last time he’d viewed her, tall and slender with long dark locks and sparkling violet eyes. Her delicate expression regarded him with round-eyed concern.

  “My Lady.” He dropped to his knees and bowed his head.

  She waved toward him. “Speak.”

  “I have come to rescue Lady Iora. The Fates have chosen not to restore her.”

  Persephone’s fine brows pinched together. “That cannot be true.” She scanned around her. “But she isn’t here, Alder.” Her lips parted and her skin paled. “Oh, no.”

  His gut dropped and panic fluttered across the goddess’s features. He bit his tongue against questioning her, for none questioned the gods, but the seconds ticked by like daggers flung into his flesh.

  Finally, she cast her survey directly onto him. “We must hurry. Pray tell, you do love Lady Iora, do you not?”

  “Aye, utterly.” He eagerly bobbed his head lest there be any uncertainty.

  “Good, good.” She pressed a gentle hand to his shoulder and bade him rise. “There’s been a breach of our realm and I’m afraid Iora has been pulled through it.” Her fine brows drew together in solemnity. “I hope you are prepared to risk everything for your love, because to save her, that is what you must sacrifice.”

  Iora scowled at the foul beast guarding her. After Lykon had tired of taunting her with his victory, he’d departed her cell and now this cloven-footed creature guarded her.

  Apollo had succeeded in tearing a hole through the realm of the Underworld, and when the Fates had pulled her back, he’d snared her to his realm instead. At least, that was how Lykon described it.

  Her imprisonment here placed more than her own destiny at risk. The centaurs didn’t know what was happening around them, and if she didn’t return to explain the dangers before they struck, all would be lost.

  They couldn’t succeed without her.

  All the more reason why her enemy gloated over her capture.

  The pieces were fitting together. She’d planted those enchantment objects. They would be of no use unless she joined in the casting of the spell.

  Apollo would seize a devastating victory against not only the centaurs, but Hades and Persephone.

  There was no other choice. She must escape.

  Even if it meant taking down one enemy at a time. Beginning with her guard.

  She sparked her powers across her fingertips. Lykon might claim to be immune, but this wasn’t the Underworld. The rest of these inhabitants weren’t dead.

  She seized one step toward the barred door, but a thud drew her to a halt, and she jumped backward as the heavy door cracked open.

  Instead of the beastly guard, a familiar set of ruddy locks appeared, followed by loving russet eyes.

  “Alder?” She rushed forward, but hesitated a few steps away.

  “Well, didn’t you call for a rescue?” He winked at her, before surging forward and crushing her into his firm embrace.

  She kissed him fiercely, but drew back, panting and shaky. “How can you be here?”

  “That’s not important,” he hedged, “but we must get you to safety.”

  “Alder.” She crossed her arms, reprimanding him in a stern voice. “No secrets between us.”

  “Aye, very well.” He sighed and his shoulders dropped. “I’m sort of, well, nearly, ah, dead.”

  “No.” She gasped and agony pinched her chest. “Why, how?”

  “Easy, love. It’s temporary.” He extended a hand to her, and she grasped it, but tears spilled from her eyes regardless. “I hope,” he added under his breath. “Kyme gave me a vial of nymph powers that’s killing me, very slowly. But I’m still here.” He cupped her chin in his large hand and angled his face to hers. “And I will never leave you.”

  ***

  As Alder vowed to remain by Iora’s side, he prayed his words were truth. He couldn’t bear the thought of being parted from her. By her side was the first and only place where he felt like he belonged. He refused to allow anyone to tear that from him, especially not a petty god hell-bent on overthrowing the order on Mount
Olympus.

  “Your guard is taken care of, so let’s leave this place. There’s an entryway in the hall—that’s where Persephone sent me in through.”

  She clasped his hand and they passed through the doorway, but a menacing chortle stopped his advance. That voice. He’d hoped never to hear it again.

  “Lykon.” He spun around and glowered. “How is it that you’re not being torn to pieces by Hades’s hounds?”

  Lykon propped against the wall, legs crossed, but he uncrossed them and whistled low. “Now, brother, is that any way to speak of your dead sibling? Did you not grieve me in the least?”

  At his side, Iora’s grip tightened on his arm. “Apollo stole him before his soul traversed to the Underworld. He’s neither dead nor alive.”

  Which means he’s lethally dangerous, the warning hummed in his bones.

  “Why did you abduct Iora?” Alder faced his brother, and for the first time in his existence, experienced not a hint of fear. He’d defeated this bastard once. Lykon no longer held any power over him.

  “Because Persephone and Hades have plans for me, and without my aid, the centaurs will perish.” Iora stepped forward, shoulders rigid. “Or so they presume. But you obviously haven’t met any centaurs.” Her eyes flashed bright. “They don’t go down easy.”

  Lykon bared his teeth in a sneer. “We’ll see about that. For the time being, enjoy your stay.” “Apollo will be just as pleased to have captured two flies instead of one.” He flicked his wrist as he stepped past them, through the cell door, and slammed it shut behind him. A wave of enchantments swept across the chamber, locking them in.

  “He’s scared of you,” Iora whispered, a smirk curving her lips.

  “Nay, Amethysta.” Alder chuckled. “I do believe he’s frightened of you.”

  She laughed, but her brows pinched together. “What are we going to do? Lykon won’t permit us to leave.”

  Mayhap not both of us. Alder pressed his palms to his eyelids, digging in the back of his mind for a solution.

  The Fates had called Iora to the Underworld, but Apollo had intercepted her. Right now, her body floated in and out of corporeality, as did his. Persephone’s words sank into his mind and suddenly, he knew exactly what he must do, and what he must sacrifice.