Lost Lady of Thessaly (Halcyon Romance Series Book 7)

by Rachael Slate

  They were safe.

  But also, cut off from the rest of the world. Erased.

  Today, they had won, although victory came at a great cost. Lives had been saved, the enemy thwarted.

  Until the final battle, at least.

  Iora sighed and sank into his arms, the glow from her hands dissipating. The spell took on a will of its own and the powers from each of the pairings would sustain the wall.

  Keeping foe out and friend in.

  Her lashes fluttering, she stroked his cheek. “I thought I’d have to hunt down Hades himself just to see you once more.”

  He chuckled at the vision of Iora, righteous fury burning in her eyes, and how perhaps even the god of the Underworld would cower at that.

  “No need, my love. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “How?” Her fine brows knitted together. “You were dead.”

  He held up a finger. “Not entirely. The potion paralyzed my body and I appeared dead, but as Lady Persephone revealed, until one is actually, completely no longer alive, one can return to the land of the living. Especially if one has a goddess to bring one there.”

  She chimed a laugh. “What about me? Am I now alive?”

  “Indeed, you seem so to me.” He pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “Didn’t your mother explain?”

  “Explain what?”

  “Ah, well, that is a story for Queen Atalante to tell.” He shifted her into his arms and marched toward the castle. She hummed into his neck, recovering on the journey.

  Once they reached Great Meteoron, they entered the hall. Her brothers had also gathered with their mates. The five centaur siblings circled the Queen, on their knees, heads bowed, and grief shaking their shoulders in sobs of joy and relief.

  Iora joined them, and Queen Atalante embraced each of her children, crystalline tears streaming down her cheeks.

  King Cheiron stood behind her, his hands clasped around her shoulders, tears misting in his eyes too.

  The pain, the sorrow, and the sacrifice evaporated on the breeze.

  “When the goddess Persephone came to us and told us of our daughter’s impending death, she granted us a choice. In return for our fealty and sacrifice, she would preserve our daughter, arranging not only Iora’s bonding, but those of our sons as well.” She tilted her face to Cheiron, grasping her hand atop his, and he nodded in encouragement. “To protect our secret, I had to depart this world for a time, to shield each and every one of you. To see you now, my beautiful grown sons, and daughter, so content with your mates, I am certain we made the correct decision. We have long waited to be a family once more, and now we will be.”

  Iora tilted her face to her mother. “How did you save Alder? And myself?”

  A spark lit the Queen’s diamond eyes. “You’re not the only one with a gift from the gods, my darling.” She twirled her fingers and two glittering threads tangled in the air. “I am a skilled weaver, and to placate the Fates, I entwined the threads of your lives.”

  “I’m afraid that means you’re saddled with me.” Alder winked at Iora.

  She rose and linked her fingers with his. “Only if you promise it’s for forever.”

  He stroked her cheek and gazed into her loving eyes. “Always.”

  Together, they faced the gathering, a family at last.

  Cheiron dipped his head. “Centaur lands will be erased from the minds of the humans. We will no longer exist in any place our enemy can find us. Together, we will grow stronger, more powerful, and when the day comes that our enemy chooses to face us again, we will defeat them one final time. We will seize victory.”

  A rumble of cheers erupted from the males, followed by cries from their mates, a wave of assurance and determination rolling through the chamber.

  Together, they stood united. Centaurs, Amazons, nymphs, the Wind and Water Borne.

  Even stray satyrs like himself.

  Because in the end, the one force powerful enough to claim them all…

  Was love.

  “The Fates have brought us together,” Alder spoke his vows to the Lady of his heart beneath the steady glow of the moon. The small gathering of family and friends surrounded them on this alabaster balcony at Great Meteoron, bearing witness to and embracing their union. “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.”

  A bright beam spread across Iora’s face. She repeated the vows, those swirling depths shining with sparkling love. For me.

  Who would have dreamed a roguish satyr belonging to no world would find his home in the arms of the loveliest creature he’d ever beheld?

  He was one damned lucky beast.

  The crowd cheered as he swept her into his arms and kissed the breath from her lips.

  He didn’t wish to pull away, ever, but this celebration was bigger than the two of them. To their right stood Oreius and Nysa, with her belly round, and to their left, Petraeus and Ekho.

  The last remaining unwed centaurs had claimed their wives at last, together in this ceremony.

  He chuckled at Petraeus, who clasped a hand above his heart. “Well, that’s it. We’re officially tamed.”

  At his side, Ekho perched a hand on her hip and arched a brow.

  “And I couldn’t be happier to be blissfully wed to the most enchanting—” Ekho halted his groveling with a well-punctuated kiss.

  Iora clapped a hand over her mouth and laughed while Alder shook his head at his friend.

  He seized her hand and drew it to his lips. “Well, I for one could not be more content. I finally have the home and family and love I’ve always wished for. You have made me one very happy satyr, Iora.”

  “Oh, good,” she purred against his lips, “because here come the rest of my brothers.” Her brothers’ wives seized her arms and whisked her away in a whirl of chiming laughter.

  Alder cringed and cast his gaze sideways, toward the onslaught of massive centaurs.

  Despite having rescued their sister, reunited them with their mother, and helped to prevent a disastrous war, he feared their retribution.

  Well-warranted, for Hector, Agrius, Oreius, Thereus, and Petraeus all encroached upon him, fisted hands and grim glowers upon their faces.

  “Now, friends, this is a wedding.”

  “Oh, aye, we know that.” Oreius tipped his head. “Which is why you’re going to swear to us never to make Iora cry. Again.”

  “A-again?” He fingered his collar, his mind stumbling over whatever he could have done.

  “Aye.” Hector nodded. “When you died, Alder, you broke the poor lass’s hearts and none of us will tolerate such behavior again.” He flexed his arms as though warming up for a wrestling match.

  Alder sputtered. Were they teasing? Impossible to tell with these beastly centaurs. He looked to Petraeus for aid, but his friend merely shrugged.

  “You should do as they say.”

  “Uh, very well.” Alder cleared his throat. “I vow I’ll not make her shed a single tear.”

  “Good, good.” Thereus cracked the bones in his hands. “We like to hear that, don’t we, lads?”

  A rumbling murmur of agreement passed through the brothers.

  “Now, if you’re going to live among us,” Oreius rolled his shoulders, “’tis time you followed our code.”

  “Code?” He swallowed thickly. A quick glance around him confirmed the balcony had emptied. Perfect setting for a beating.

  “Indeed.” Thereus dipped his head and charged forward. Alder dodged to the side, but Petraeus blocked him, and Thereus dashed right in front of him, but instead of ramming him, sank to his knees, bowing his head. “Strike me, lad. Gods know, I’ve earned it.”

  “Strike you?”

  “Has being brought back from the dead muddled his head?” Agrius whispered to Hector, who nodded.

  “Aye, perhaps.”

  Petraeus took pity on him. “We’ve wronged you, quite thorou
ghly, and we offer you retribution. A blow for a blow. But be forewarned,” he punched one fist into his open hand, grinning, “any more than one and we’ll strike back.”

  Alder barked a laugh, but each centaur brother kneeled before him, and the laughter died on his lips. They were serious. They were accepting him.

  Into their world.

  Into their home.

  Into their brotherhood.

  Tightness squeezed his throat. This was the family he’d always craved. He almost wished Iora could be here to see this.

  “Anytime now, lad,” Oreius intoned.

  Winding his arm, he chuckled. “You might regret this.” He drove his fist into Oreius’s jaw.

  The centaur crashed backward, slamming to the floor. He bellowed and rubbed his jaw. Rumbling laughter spread through the centaurs, each one shoving the other aside to be next in line.

  Just as Alder struck Hector, a feminine gasp hissed from the arched doorway. “By the gods, what are you doing, Alder?”

  He froze, staring from his bruised and bloodied knuckles, to the tapping foot of his mate. “Ah, well.” He cast a pleading expression toward the brothers, but they merely smirked. None would come to his aid.

  Iora stormed forward, hands fisted at her sides. “I can’t believe you would do this. Without me,” she added, her eyes sparking. She spun to the side and kicked out her front hoof, clapping Thereus a good one on the jaw and sending him flying backward.

  A roar of laughter boomed around the balcony, followed by a rounding echo of applause.

  Alder arched both brows, gaping at his fierce mate.

  She winked, her lips curving impishly. “Well, I am their sister.” She stomped her hoof. “And I’ve missed an awful lot.”

  Her brows bobbed wickedly toward Petraeus and, as Alder caught her meaning, they both lunged for the centaur, tackling him to the ground and each delivering a strike to his chest. Petraeus tossed up his hands in surrender. “I yield!”

  The other mates joined them, the doorway filling with rustling skirts.

  Alder hopped off him and tugged Iora to her feet. He beamed at his new brothers, and then faced his lovely new wife. “As much as I enjoyed that, I’m afraid I have vows to attend to.” He clasped her sweet face in his hands, kissing her thoroughly amidst the groaning of her brothers.

  Chuckling, he whispered for her to perform the morphos, and as soon as she did, he scooped her over his shoulder and carted her from the chamber. Like the daring satyr he was.

  A rolling wave of hollering, whistling, and whooping cascaded behind them as they exited. “Bloody centaurs.” He shook his head at them.

  “Oh, truly?” Iora’s sharp tone cut into him.

  “Ah, well, you’re not like them. You’re a centauress, remember?” He chuckled, stumbling over his words.

  “And you’d best not keep me waiting. We centauresses are impatient creatures.” Iora pounded her soft fists into his back, not so much a protest as an urge to hurry.

  The second he deposited her in their chamber, he spun and crashed her into the door, locking it with one hand while dipping his other beneath her skirts and between her legs, thrusting two fingers straight into her velvety sheath.

  “Oh, Alder,” she moaned, riding his hand.

  “Are you begging for less,” he purred into her ear, “or more?”

  “More,” she panted. “It’s always more with you.”

  “I would be most honored to obey, my love.” He drove his fingers harder, deeper, faster. “For the rest of our eternity.”

  Alder nipped at Iora’s soft lips and sighed, thoroughly contented. “Together, my love, we are lost no more.”

  “Did we make the right choice?” His Queen asked Cheiron as she watched their sons and mates, dancing across the marbled floors, dining and imbibing as only centaurs knew how. If there was one thing they loved, it was a wedding. And three? Even better.

  The slow, steady pluckings of a harp thrummed through the hall, overshadowed by the laughter and gaiety and merrymaking.

  Just as it should.

  In fact, everything was as it should be. Perhaps, not as they all wished, but right nonetheless.

  “Aye, most assuredly we did.” Cheiron braced one hand across her shoulders. “They have become stronger, braver. And by the gods, none of them will ever take for granted the love bestowed upon them by their mates.” He searched her eyes. “I know I do not.”

  She pressed her lips thin and nodded. “I have worried for them so. It is hard to stop.”

  “I doubt you will have cause for that.” He angled his head toward their two granddaughters, with their mothers, Melita and Eione. Ekho reclined between them, her belly round and full. “Those babes are going to need a grandmare to fuss over them.” He scanned their daughter and the other mates of their sons. “And we are going to need more bassinets.”

  Her smile beamed, both wistful and pure, and she playfully patted his arm.

  “Well, my lovely Queen?” Cheiron raised his gaze to hers and, for an instant, became lost in those shining depths. Though they had spent decades separated, his love for her bloomed as furiously as it had on the day he’d first met her.

  Now that they were reunited, they would never spend another day apart. Ever.

  This, he vowed.

  “Well, what, my King?” Her fine ashen brows arched, one corner of her mouth curving. She placed her slender hand in his, and that same spark flamed up his arms, through the entirety of his being.

  Nothing, not gods or wars or death itself, would ever destroy this love between them.

  “Now that you have been restored, there is a question I must ask. For I am too advanced and far too set in my stubborn ways to search out another who might tolerate my flaws.”

  “Your many, many flaws.” She chimed a laugh, seeming not a day older than the maiden he had wed hundreds of years ago.

  “Aye, the whole lot of them. But I would not have you restored only to be shackled to an old sire like me. That is, unless you…” The words choked in his throat. By the gods, he could command a thousand armies, could negotiate with the most fiendish enemies, but this he stumbled over?

  “Yes?” She swayed closer to him, the floral perfume of her fragrance so heady and intoxicating.

  He sank to one knee before her, tucking his front hoof beneath him. “The Fates have brought us together. The gods have passed favor over us.”

  “Cheiron?” Atalante straightened, her lush lips parting. “What are you doing?”

  The entire room hushed, their children’s attentions focused on him.

  Cheiron cleared his throat, so everyone might hear. “Asking you to be mine, Atalante. Again. Forever. Requesting, nay, beseeching, that your hearts still beat in time with mine.”

  “Oh, my love.” She pressed a hand over her mouth, sparkling tears spilling from her diamond eyes. “They never stopped.”

  Joy burst through his chest, washing over the long, solitary years, fraught with fear that even if he did not lose her, he still might lose her.

  “From this moment,” he clasped her hands and peered up into those exquisite depths, “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.”

  A thunderous cheer erupted around the chamber as he rose and claimed the love of his hearts, sealing his vow with an eternal kiss.

  *****

  Olympian – the lingua franca (common tongue) of the gods and their descendants

  potamoi – a river demon

  raptio – sexual slaves

  Adrasteia – Arsenius’s brigantine. Named after his half-sister, the goddess of revenge and balance.

  morphos – a shift in form, whether permanent or temporary. E.g. when a centaur changes form from a centaur to a human, he undergoes the morphos.

  chalkos, argyros, and chrysos – three passwords to the symposium, meaning “copper, silver, and gold”

  asphodelus, eros, aionios – three passwords to Hal
cyon, meaning “daffodil, love, and eternal”

  lyssa – a madness affecting centaurs, especially related to an incomplete bonding

  melita – term of endearment meaning “honey-sweet”

  quarter – pyrate term for “mercy”

  Old Centaurion – an ancient centaur language

  Meliae – honey nymphs

  Krenaiai – nymphs of wells and fountains

  Rachael has explored forgotten temples in Cambodia, kissed the Blarney Stone in Ireland, and stood inside the Roman Coliseum. She loves studying people and cultures, current and ancient. Her appetite for romance began with Lucy Maud Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables, which she later nurtured with a healthy dose of Jane Austen.

  As a writer of scorching hot fantasy romance, Rachael blends the lines between mythology, reality, and fantasy. In her worlds, you’ll encounter strong, sexy alpha males and the capable women who challenge them. If her heroines can’t meet their heroes toe-to-toe, then they’ll bring them to their knees.

  No matter what torture she puts her characters through, true love will always prevail. Love is, after all, the most powerful force on Earth, and beyond.

  Rachael holds an Honours BA in anthropology, as well as a CELTA. Her secret indulgence is her passion for baking, which she offsets with her addiction to running (she’s completed four marathons). She resides on the West Coast of British Columbia, Canada, with her husband, two children, cat, and dog.

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