Daphne rubbed her eyes tiredly. Instead of feeling her energy return, she was weaker than when she’d first awoken back here at the house. She had to focus, for Leo’s sake. “Sacrifice of what?” she wondered aloud, thinking about the words and what they might mean. “As in an offering of sorts? To one of the gods or the Highest?”
“Do they sacrifice goats and stuff at Olympus? Really?” Sophie’s eyes grew wide and horrified. “’Cause, eww, that’s awful. Poor, defenseless animals being harmed like that.”
Leo smiled in Sophie’s direction. “In the old days, it was considered an honor, not just for the gods, but even for the sacrificial beasts.”
Sophie blushed and stared down at her lap; she frequently became uncharacteristically shy around Leo. Daphne understood the feeling well.
“Before our battles, we often sought favor by sacrificing to Apollo or to Ares”—Leo got a look of extreme distaste on his face—“looking back, that wasn’t the best idea, though, was it?”
Daphne tapped her forehead. “But in this instance, it has to be something different. Sacrifice isn’t conducted at Olympus—it’s received.” She remembered her own prophetic vision. “I should tell you—all of you—that when I was passed out, I teleported to Olympus. My spirit did. And . . . the Highest God came to me.” She looked up into Leo’s eyes significantly. “He says our prayers will be answered. That we’re in the fire, but we will survive. He’s the one who told me we must go to Olympus. Perhaps that’s where we’ll understand the meaning of Emma’s prophecy. I want to leave tonight; I don’t want to wait.”
She started to rouse herself from Leo’s lap, but her vision grew dark and swimmy, and for a moment she was afraid she’d faint. Leo caught her against his chest, holding her tightly.
“Not so fast,” he cautioned, “you need to rest if you’re going to be strong enough to teleport us. We’ll wait till morning.”
Daphne swept her gaze across his features. Was he continuing to age? If so, she didn’t want to wait so many hours. Except for the trace of silver that had returned to his beard, he seemed mostly as he had before Ares touched him.
“I have time,” he reassured her, clearly sensing her thoughts. He rose to his feet, still holding her in his arms, and never even swayed in the slightest. He grinned down at her, beginning to carry her toward the hall. “See how strong I remain?”
She slid her arms about his neck, kissing his bearded face. “What I see . . . is you showing off.”
He grinned. “Bah, it’s every Spartan male’s birthright to try and impress his female with feats of outrageous courage.”
She blinked up at him, wondering if he even understood what he’d just said. Outrageous courage . . . was what it took for a man of some twenty-six hundred years to face his end, and do it resolutely, stoically. Daphne saw those traits in Leo’s dark eyes, and just as much bravery—a resolute determination that, no matter his fate, he would face it with honor.
She’d never loved him more than at that moment. Like the honorable warrior he was, he stared death in the eyes without even blinking.
And to Daphne, that made Leonidas the very definition of outrageous courage.
Chapter 14
Sophie watched as Leo carried Daphne out of the library, cradling her close, and couldn’t help releasing a dreamy sigh. Oh, to be cherished like that by the man you loved—by a man like Leonidas, who had no trouble letting you know that you were the moon and stars to him. Especially if that man were a certain centaur, and if maybe he’d place you gently on his back and carry you to some place romantic, a hidden forest or meadow where no one else would see . . . and then he’d gallantly help you to the ground and kiss you, his hands tangling all in your hair.
But it would all start with the way he looked at you—that same way that Leonidas always looked at Daphne. One day, some day, Sable would gaze at Sophie like that.
She wasn’t going to kid herself, though. In a minute, she’d be getting nothing but visual daggers from him. He was going to be straight up totally pissed that she’d left him out in the drive for so long, even though it was hardly her fault. Prophesying wasn’t exactly primo Djinn time.
She hadn’t figured it would go over well if she’d blurted, “Uh, yeah, and by the way? I’ve had a Djinn demon hanging in the driveway the whole time we were praying and all that. Can I let him in? I promise to keep him downstairs and make him wipe his hooves off before he comes inside!”
Yeah . . . no. Just no.
With one last look over her shoulder, she stole out onto the veranda. She walked quietly across the warped floorboards, not wanting to startle Sable, and not wanting to attract attention from those inside. She reached the railing and found him standing at the base of the steps, arms folded across his chest, a totally prickly expression on his face.
She whistled softly and he whipped his gaze in her direction. Trotting to just below where she stood, he craned his neck to look up at her. “Sophie!” he bellowed irritably.
She put fingertips to her mouth, shushing him.
He waved at her in silent exasperation, holding both hands out in one of those what-in-hell-is-going-on kind of motions.
She returned it by bugging eyes at him and mimicking his gesture, but adding more of a what-am-I-supposed-to-do nuance to it. He swore viciously, then glared up at her, muttering something she couldn’t quite make out.
Geez, she really did wish he’d just get a cell phone so they could text like normal people. She imitated a phone, holding a finger to her ear. “You need to go to AT&T,” she hissed down at him. “I could’ve texted you.”
He stomped a hoof, giving her a murderous glance. “They don’t exactly have a FRIENDS AND CENTAURS plan, Soph,” he stage-whispered back at her. “Are you going to let me in the house or not?”
She leaned over the railing. “I haven’t figured out how to bring you into the conversation yet,” she whispered.
Now that really enraged him. He let loose with a few words in ancient Persian; she was convinced they had to be profane. He made his hand gesture again, something between a shrug and a “what in the hell now” kind of thing.
So annoyed. So irritable. So frustrated.
Adorable.
She knew exactly how to answer his furious little motion. With one hand on the porch railing, she swung outward slightly, doing a Gene Kelly Singin’ in the Rain imitation. She placed her other palm over her heart and swooned. “Romeo!” she mouthed.
He cut his eyes at her, and she could feel the blast-wave of fury all the way up on the balcony.
She stuck her tongue out at him, starting back inside the library, but something made her turn around. Some strange sense that he still had something left to tell her. Slowly she walked back toward the railing, stealing a peek from the shadows, standing where he couldn’t possibly see her, not at night.
If Earth had done a U-turn on its axis, she’d probably have been less surprised. She stared down at him, trying her darnedest to breathe, but it honestly felt like her heart had stopped in her chest.
Sable stood below, gazing up at the balcony unself-consciously, one palm over his own chest. It was a show of adoration, a pledging of his heart to hers . . . and his eyes were filled with undisguised feeling. Something akin to love, but mixed with a strange kind of suffering that shocked her. That tortured look in his eyes immediately kicked her empathic gift into overdrive.
He cared about her deeply—she sensed it—and much more than he ever wanted her to know. But there was something else coursing below that emotion. Something she couldn’t pinpoint, a darkness, a confusion. She tried sorting through his emotions, wanted to isolate them, but it was like trying to catch a bunch of raindrops and line them up in a row—impossible.
He was filled with regret and conflict . . . but the dominant emotion was entirely different. It was so intense it stole her breath, slamming into her body with raw, very physical force.
He had fallen in love with her.
He despised hi
mself for it, wanted to stop it, but he was powerless to smother the feelings that were coming alive inside his closed-off heart.
Oh, Sable, I’m simple, I’m right. Just . . . love me! You needn’t suffer so much over something so obvious.
And yet, that intense torment and conflict raged inside him like a gale wind. Perhaps if he saw that she was here, glimpsed how she accepted his offering of devotion, he might find peace. She dared to move out of the shadows and into the light where he could see her, praying it wouldn’t break the spell.
The moment he glimpsed her, Sable yanked his hand away from his bare chest as if he’d been scalded. He glared up at her accusingly, but her heart knew the truth. She’d seen it with her own eyes in the way he stood, pledging his heart to hers—and she’d felt it in the core of her empath’s soul.
And that’s why she was going to make him understand that she had faith enough for both of them.
She darted back inside the house, before she lost her nerve.
Sophie strolled inside, hands in her pockets, attempting to act all casual-like. Most everyone was still hanging around in the library, waiting for Leonidas, she guessed, because the meeting wasn’t over. There was always a moment of formal dismissal, most of it in ancient Greek—she was never sure whether the king recited a poem or a prayer or what. But none of that had happened tonight, so he’d undoubtedly be back.
Which was both good and bad. It meant she could ask one of the other Spartans about Sable without feeling that weighty, kingly stare of Leonidas’s. On the other hand, he was the only one who could actually grant her request.
She decided to try the plan out on Aristos, since he’d had such a good experience with Sable during the Juliana crisis. He was over at the big desk, hunched over a laptop, working intently on some project.
She sauntered up to him. “Uh, Ari. Hey, listen, got a question,” she said, hoping she wasn’t interrupting anything important.
He kept his eyes riveted on the screen, dark eyebrows cranked down into a scowl. “Uh . . . huh?” She had the feeling he hadn’t really heard her. Maybe she shouldn’t bug him.
But then she remembered Sable, out in the drive—first pretending to be so furious with her, and then secretly pledging his heart once she’d turned away.
“It’s kinda important,” she tried.
One black eyebrow lifted ever so slightly. “Give me . . . a minute. Just hang on.”
He was making feverish movements with the keyboard, but it didn’t exactly sound like typing. She slid around the side of the desk and behind him.
“Skata!” he bellowed. “I almost had high score!” She looked down and saw a Bally’s online pinball game.
He snapped the laptop shut, looking like a kid whose mom had just said, “The answer is still no.”
Blowing out a breath, he swiveled to face her. “So what’s up?”
She hesitated a moment. The idea had seemed so logical when she was with Sable, but now? Not so much.
“I know this might be . . . unconventional.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, it’s going to seem really, really out of the ordinary. Trust me, I do . . . but Sable’s outside and he’s on our team now, and because of that, I was thinking that, well, maybe he should join us. He worked with Ares for a long time . . . he might have knowledge or some ideas. Like how he knew the magic word for getting rid of Layla, that kinda thing. So I’m wondering. That’s all. Wondering.”
“Layla was a Djinn, his own cousin,” Ari answered. “That was a very specific circumstance, kiddo.”
She bounced onto her toes, recalling something else. “And he fought for y’all down in Hades. Remember, Emma rode out of the River Styx on his back! While she had River’s sword form in her hand. So, see—three of the most important people in your life—Sable saved each one of ’em.” She folded arms over her chest and grinned. She had him, she so totally did, and he knew it.
Ari began to laugh, shaking his head. “Damn, what is it with you and that demon?” He sized her up for a long moment, just staring at her until she started shifting around on the balls of her feet. “It’s because you healed him. That’s what I heard . . . that you two share a bond because of how you helped him.”
Sophie went bug-eyed. “You Spartans gossip worse than the ladies at my mama’s Bible study.”
He gave her a sideways grin. “Actually, I heard it from Emma. She says you consider Sable a ‘friend,’ which I say is madness, but it’s your call ‘cause you’re right—he’s helped us in a few critical spots. I think he can be trusted. If I didn’t, I’d have friend-blocked him out of your life by now, little sis.”
It wasn’t necessarily the right time to give him grief, not with him signing on to her Sable plan, but she couldn’t resist. “You know, Ari, I’m not exactly sure why you think you get to call me sister.”
He cranked back in the swivel chair, making his voice sound elderly. “Technically speaking, I’m your great-great-uncle.” Which was true—he’d married her great-great-aunt Juliana. “So run along now, little girl, and get me my worry beads and a flagon of ouzo . . .” He reached for her butt, making like he was going to pinch it. “And back in Greece, you know what we doddering old fellas like to do with a young lady’s behind . . .”
She laughed, swatting him on the arm. “All right, old man! Don’t get outta line on me.”
“Old man? Talking about me?” Leonidas joined them and she instantly blushed. Somehow she always did that around the famous king, even if she said nothing, but especially if she’d just attracted his unwarranted attention.
“Uh, no, sir. No . . .” She stared down at her black high-tops. Anywhere but up into Leonidas’s intimidating eyes. It wasn’t just that there were books and movies about the guy—
It was that he was totally, completely hot in a Russell Crowe sort of way. Scorching, flame-broiled hot.
“I was reminding my great-great-niece to respect her elders.” Ari gave the chair a spin, turning off the laptop. He tapped it for a minute, clearly thinking. “Hey, Commander, little girl here had a pretty solid idea. I want to know what you think.”
She groaned. He really was such a big brother type, managing to mortify her in Leonidas’s presence. “I am not a little girl.”
The king turned to her, and for once, she managed to return his gaze without blushing like a freak show. He smiled, inclining his head slightly. “Sophia, trust me when I say that there is a house full of males here, all of whom realize you are very much a grown, beautiful woman.”
Her mouth fell slightly open and damn, she did blush, but he didn’t seem to notice. He just turned to Ari and asked, “Now, which one of you wants to outline this idea?”
“What has Ares enlisted you to do?” Leonidas demanded, calling out to Sable before he’d even reached him. The centaur stood at the base of the steps to the house, where Sophie had apparently left him waiting. He looked surly and impatient, drumming his fingers along the tops of his forelegs.
Leo continued, jogging down the steps. “I saw you enter the stable earlier when I was out riding with Daphne. I know you were there . . . and you must have seen Ares yourself. So tell me—what are you attempting?”
Sable gave a half bow. “Quite lovely to see you again, as well, King Leonidas. Pleasant night out, isn’t it?”
Leo jabbed a finger into the center of Sable’s bare chest. “I don’t believe you would offer to help us without an agenda of your own,” he told the Djinn. “It’s too convenient . . . you and Ares in nearly the same place at almost the same time, earlier today. It can’t be a coincidence that you come now, seeking to join our ranks. So tell me, Sable,” Leo asked pointedly. “What do you intend by showing up here?”
Sable arched an eyebrow. “You’ll recall that I helped you defeat my cousin Layla—I revealed her secret demon name.”
That was true, and Leonidas hadn’t fully understood Sable’s motivation at the time. He knew the Djinn was turning light—light enough that even now he could stand on the
warded property, a feat no fully dark demon could accomplish.
“Yes, you’ve sided with us several times recently,” Leo agreed, although that didn’t answer the question of Sable’s motivation in wanting to participate in their strategizing tonight. “But tell me why you’ve volunteered your assistance now? We aren’t in the midst of a battle at present.”
Sable walked closer, his hooves loudly crunching the gravel of the drive. “Leonidas, we have known each other for a very long time,” he said smoothly. “We are both old men at this point. Ancient and weary of the endless games that Ares plays with us. But that’s not why I’ve come to you.” Sable’s voice suddenly became low and intense. “My only interest is in protecting Sophie. That’s why I’m here.”
Leo frequently discovered the Djinn near her, sometimes lurking in the shadows where her human eyes couldn’t see. He’d worried at first, until he’d started to realize that at some point, the demon had clearly appointed himself as her protector. It was the one reason that Sable might have named that Leo didn’t doubt.
“You care about Sophie a great deal. I can see that.”
Sable scowled back at him as if accused of a hideous crime. “I should never have gotten tangled up with that deranged little pixie or worried a whit about her well-being,” he snarled, jabbing a finger in Leo’s direction. “She’s all but impossible to keep out of harm’s way, absurdly naive, too kindhearted for her own good, but . . .” Sable gave Leo a downright hopeless glance and sighed heavily. “Damn the woman. I’m here because I want her safe.”
Leo recognized the look reflected in Sable’s eyes, the emotion—it had to be similar to the look in his own eyes when discussing Daphne’s protection.
It was a fight to the death, lay-your-body-before-the-gods kind of desperation—a primal, utterly male need to protect the one you loved. But it raised a serious question of its own.
“You believe Sophie might be in danger of some sort?” Leo asked.
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