I know you well, my love, you are right; you would stay with me until the bitterest of ends. Therefore it is I who must leave this time. I am sure you could prevail upon your powers to discern my location, but I ask you to let me protect you in this. You must not suffer with me; you are young—too young to watch me die.
Please respect this old man’s remnants of pride and courage. For truly it took the latter to leave you at all, much less sleeping in my bed, believing me still beside you. But my love for you, my need to stand between you and this pain, empowers me.
Know this, my darling: I will always, throughout time and eternity, love thee.
Yours, forever,
Leo
Daphne stared at the letter, at the swimming scrawl; for how long, she did not know. The only thing she was thoroughly convinced of, sitting there in Leo’s rumpled bed, smelling his sex and love, was that her brother, so determined to kill her—body, soul, and spirit—would pay.
She just wasn’t sure how to bring about that death, not yet. But give her time, she thought. Give her an eternity’s worth of time, and she would see the deed done.
Leo paced the stony floor of his great hall, talking to Ajax on his cell. Cornwall had been the only place he could think to go after Ares’s most recent work over. In those hours after making love to Daphne, he’d been punished thoroughly. He now appeared to be a man of about sixty, a walking imitation of Sean Connery—when he was well past his Bond days, and without nearly as much in the good looks department.
“We’re still interrogating Caesar, and Mason’s taking his time about it . . . Nikos took a pretty nasty hit,” Jax was explaining, but Leo only halfway listened. After a moment his warrior asked, “Leo, are you still there?”
“Yes.”
“The main thing we’ve learned from Caesar is that Ares was using him to lure Ari away from you, to prevent him from healing you. That was how he figured into the plan.”
“Good,” Leo said distractedly as he caught sight of himself in the massive mirror that hung over the fireplace. It dated back to the 1700s, and its surface was unreliable, but as he paced, he could see the facts—more scars exposed now, along his throat, his jaw, beneath his eye. His hair and beard had not even a single dark hair left in them.
“Leo, are you all right?” Jax persisted. “I don’t understand why you’ve gone to Cornwall . . . especially now.”
“This will be our battleground,” Leo rasped. His voice had deepened, become rougher, in the past hours. “The demons will train and fight with us here; we will draw Ares into a trap . . . and this is our stage.”
He’d grasped desperately for anywhere to go in the aftermath of his lovemaking with Daphne. And that was when the idea had formed: Cornwall was home to him. Nearly as much as Sparta at this point, after so many years when he’d lived on the craggy moors, when he and the men had trained and quartered here.
It was also remote enough that they could bring down hellfire itself on the place, and no mortals would be the wiser. The perfect stage for his own personal Armageddon.
He was going down, that much was obvious, but Ares was going right down with him, if it was the last thing Leo did in this life. After holding Daphne last night, the passion of it unlike any he’d ever known—and realizing new depths to his love for her—he was more determined than ever to leave this world knowing Ares was gone. Daphne had to be safe.
“Jax,” he said into the phone, “bring all the men here. In the next hours, once all are strong enough. I need everyone, the humans, too. And Sophie.” He thought of the help she’d been able to give him with the knee. “I absolutely require Sophie. One of you can bring her, right?”
The warriors would fly the heavens, a strange mix of teleportation and actual flight. The travel time from Savannah to Cornwall would be roughly thirty to forty minutes, draining to carry a human, but not undoable.
“I’ll see to it that she comes, my lord,” Jax said. “But Emma’s obviously out, and I think Jules should stay with her in case the babes come. Shay and Sophie, Mason and Jamie . . . we’ll get them there.”
“Good.” Leo stroked his beard. “But we need Sable, too. I can’t do this without him.”
Jax groaned into the phone. “Commander, I know you’re dead set on this demon army, but are you sure about Sable?”
Leo considered the statement. “He led us to Nikos and Ari,” he said. “That was a loyal move. He and I spoke last evening, as well. We came to an understanding.”
There was a long crackling silence, and Leo knew it had a lot to do with the history Jax and Sable shared, none of it good. “All right, sir. I’ll make sure we corral him, too,” Jax said with a snide laugh. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”
Leo snapped the phone shut and walked out of the great hall. He took uneven footsteps all the way to a giant set of wooden doors that had hung there for centuries. Beside the door were umbrellas and even a couple of canes that some footman or another had relied upon over the years. Scowling, but knowing it necessary, Leo chose the least offensive of the walking sticks and headed out onto the moors.
One last look, perhaps, at the craggy hillsides and waterfalls. Or maybe he’d have a few more last looks after today. Whatever the case, he’d come home—like some old dog, he’d returned to a beloved place so he could die. And so he could touch the memories that hung about these moors. Beginning his hike out into the misty landscape, he strode purposefully toward the one place he had in mind, the spot that he absolutely needed to see.
The high and windy spot behind his castle where he’d first glimpsed Daphne.
There was only one place left to turn—and only one where Daphne had unfinished business, unsatisfied optimism. Using her mental map, she teleported to her most recent position on Olympus, Apollo’s palace. She hurled through gray mist, and slowly everything became solid, until she stood facing that broad oak table and the tasteful ivory columns of the god’s dining hall. Here they had eaten of Apollo’s feast, drank of his wine . . . and dreamed of an unwinnable victory.
She’d believed it all.
That had been before her brother’s true skills of treachery had shined like Olympus’s midday sun. She’d learned better since then. And now, for some reason, the fact that Apollo’s polished table stood empty caused tears to well in her eyes; it was such an image of all her dashed hopes. Bounty gone, replaced by famine and nothingness.
She stepped toward the wooden expanse, planting palms against it, and released her first unhindered tears in days. Hope was lost, sustenance was gone. All that remained for her in the years to come was a future of nothing, where once there had been joy and abundance and love.
She sank to her knees, still clutching to that vast wooden slab. Even Apollo was absent, painfully vanished from his palace of life and nurture.
I am alone in this. There is no one to help or aid me.
“Daughter, rise.”Apollo’s voice was full of authority—more commanding than she’d ever heard from the god. But she couldn’t find strength enough to face him. She sank farther down upon her knees and pressed her forehead against the table’s polished surface.
A large, rough hand stroked her cheek. “Have you given up so easily, dear Daphne, mine?”
“He is lost to me,” she cried, hiding her face, lest her god see such ugly tears. “It is over, all of it. Every wish I ever cherished, finished for good.”
Another voice interrupted her grief, tinkling as chimes and just as soothing. “Oh, Aunt Daphne, you haven’t let him win?” Eros. Her beloved nephew.
She’d never felt more ashamed than at that moment, huddled against the table like it was an altar for her grief, knowing that her hopes were spent. All washed down like rain, a river to nothingness.
She sensed Apollo behind her, her nephew, too. Both of them, here and waiting for her; as if they’d been expecting her all along.
Apollo patted her cheek like a father. “I knew you’d return—come back to me for the right answers.”
&
nbsp; She sank back onto her haunches, gasping for breath. Hiding her tear-stained face in her hands, she whispered, “Are there any answers in this?”
The god cupped her cheek, much harder this time, forcing her to turn and face him. Apollo squatted beside her, one beefy forearm along his table. “You left to follow your love, before I had a chance to explain.”
She swiped at her ugly tears, avoiding his stare. “Explain . . . what?”
Apollo glanced past her, nodding, and she felt a gentler set of hands begin stroking her hair. “Aunt Daphne, you can bring my father to heel. Why do you think you received the prophesies? Karanos and his brethren? Why do you think,” he asked boldly, “that the Highest has made you my father’s greatest weakness?”
She buried her face against the table again, not wanting either of these good-hearted, kind gods to know how truly weak she was. “I have nothing left.”
Incongruous as it was, Apollo released a booming, belly-deep laugh right then. He petted her atop the head. “Oh, Daughter, you have everything,” he said. “But first, let me serve you dinner. And I’ll tell you the secrets of the universe as we dine. You’ll know, then, the truth . . . that you have the world in your hands, and your love’s life, too. You only think it’s the end . . . when it is the beginning.”
Within moments, it seemed, Daphne found herself staring at a plateful of dates, figs, and chicken with rice, all of it making her stomach turn. Apollo, shockingly enough, did not eat at all; he merely sat watching her, concerned with every bite she took.
“You need your strength,” he warned, staring at her untouched plate. “For what’s to come.”
She drank a small sip of water, feigned interest in a fig. “And what’s that?”
Eros, lounging languidly beside her in his own chair, chimed in, “You had a prophetic word. Before you came to see me the other day. Tell us of it.”
Daphne’s head pounded. What did they want from her, these Olympian gods who clearly cared so deeply?
“I . . . don’t recall.”
Apollo shifted in his chair, his big body barely contained by the frame. “I do. I know everything that concerns my Daughters, especially prophesy.” He waved his arms. “Eat! You are going to require all of your strength.”
Daphne nibbled on a small piece of bread, her stomach roiling. “The word came through Emma,” she said quietly. “It was sacrifice.”
Apollo beamed, and rose, ladling a bowl of steaming chicken soup out for her. “This will ease your stomach,” he soothed, and she wondered if she was entirely transparent to the powerful god.
“The sacrifice you will make,” Apollo explained, settling his big body beside her once again. “Relates to your original question. You wondered if you can somehow feed your power to Leonidas? The answer is yes. Because he has my blood in his veins”—Apollo put a fist to his heart—“you can make this exchange. You’ll add years to his life . . . but it cannot be accomplished without a cost from you. That is the sacrifice.”
Chapter 30
Daphne had her plan now. She strolled into the main dining room of the compound, and as she’d hoped, found most everyone gathered around breakfast. Shay was serving it up, heaping platters of scrambled eggs and bacon and grits.
For a moment, Daphne held in the doorway, just listening to the chatter.
“Well, it’s not like him to take off, not like this,” Kalias was saying.
Straton nodded his agreement. “He’s not thinking straight right now. The last thing he needs to do is run off to Cornwall, his tail between his legs.”
Jax sat down beside his elder brother. “That’s not it. He has a plan, he told me of it yesterday and again on the phone a little while ago. He wants all of us to join him in Cornwall, then he’ll tell us the strategy.”
So Cornwall, was it? Not a surprise—she’d already sensed him there, alone in his towering castle, pacing the halls.
She stepped into the room. “Well, our king isn’t the only one with a plan,” she announced firmly.
Ajax rose to greet her, and they exchanged a quick kiss, first on one cheek, then the other. “I’m so glad you’ve come,” he said low enough that only she could hear. “He can’t do this without you, Daphne. Not what he has planned.”
She smiled up at her long-term, dear friend. “I know.”
She took a seat at the table, and although Shay began to serve her, Daphne held up a hand. “Oh, gods, no! I just ate.” And ate, and ate. Apollo hadn’t been satisfied until he’d stuffed her silly.
Jax sat across from her and gave her a significant look. “He wants Sable. Says he’s a key part of this plan.”
Sophie yelped, a strange little sound, her face alight with excitement. “He’s asked for Sable? Really?” She grew more serious, her hands paused midclap. “I don’t know where he is. I haven’t seen him this morning . . . and you know how he can be, here one minute, gone for hours.”
“I can find him, Sophie,” Daphne reassured her. “Not a problem there for me.”
Ajax let out a long weary sigh. “I just hope Leonidas is right in trusting him.” He cast Sophie an apologetic glance. “No offense to you, Sophie. Leo trusts him, so that’s going to be good enough for me.”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “Oh, and my opinion’s not good enough?”
Mason leaned back in his chair, pushing his finished breakfast plate back. “Cuz, you’d let a wounded grizzly take up residence in your carriage house if you thought it needed you. You’re too compassionate for your own good.”
“It’s not compassion that she feels in this instance, Mason. You of all people should know that,” Daphne said gently.
Mace gave her a curious look. “What’s that supposed to mean exactly?”
Daphne didn’t reply, but let her gaze travel pointedly to the far end of the table and rest on Nikos. Sophie instantly flushed, understanding the implication—that like Mason had done with Nik, she’d fallen in love with Sable.
Ajax patted her hand. “You’ll be riding with me, kid,” he told her. “Hawk style.”
Daphne agreed. “Leo will need you and your healing gift, Sophie. So the sooner we get you there, the better. I will teleport Sable and Shay.”
Sophie stared out the window toward the pasture. “I’m gonna go look for him in the pasture and at the stable,” she said. “Might as well let him get his tantrum done with—because you know there’s gonna be one. Some rage about why he shouldn’t bother helping Leonidas, all that normal routine.”
Daphne smiled at her. “You might be surprised, actually. But yes, please see if you can gain his participation.”
On instinct, Sophie entered the barn, searching for Sable. She pulled a giant bull’s-eye on her hunch, too, because in the far corner of the barn, near the saddles and grooming gear, she found him. He didn’t say a word when she entered, and that surprised her. He’d been so mortified when she discovered him here in the barn the other day.
Walking closer, she realized the reason for his silence: He was sound asleep, standing tall, but with one shoulder leaning into the wooden wall. She’d never even seen him sleep before! He didn’t seem to need rest, always living on his boundless Djinn energy.
She moved right up beside him, tiptoeing, and was amazed by how innocent he seemed, asleep like that. All the anger washed out of his face, all the annoyance and rage. He seemed downright serene, lightly snoring, one hand folded against his belly.
She hated to wake him, but they had work to do. Very gingerly, she reached out and touched his hand. He jolted, barking a curse, going wide-eyed. “What in Hades? Sophie?” he glanced around, confused as he woke.
“We’re all going to Cornwall,” she explained quietly. “Leonidas has asked for you to come.”
He blinked back the sleep in his eyes, rubbing his face. “To Cornwall?”
“Yes, to his castle and training grounds there. He says you’re critical to his plans.”
He nodded. “He seems convinced of that for some odd rea
son. He told me the same thing.”
“So you’re gonna come, then? With all of us?”
“You’re going?” He didn’t like that, not one little bit. She saw the spark in his eyes.
“Just in case . . . I’m needed,” she explained, knowing he’d figure out why. And with the promise she’d made, he wouldn’t be happy about the reason for her participation.
He blew out a weary sigh. “Here we go once again,” he snarled. “You placing yourself directly in harm’s fucking way.”
“Crabby. Remind me to avoid you first thing in the morning from here on out.”
“Remind me to give up protecting you,” he snapped back at her.
She planted hands on both her hips. “Are you coming or not?” she blurted, irritable herself for once.
“How am I supposed to accomplish that?” He glared at her. “I can’t teleport that far . . . don’t possibly have that much power.”
“Homeland Security’s a bitch, isn’t it?” Sophie laughed, popping him on the shoulder. “Daphne said she’d get you there.”
“And how will you go?” Sable studied her through narrowed eyes. She had a strong feeling that the answer wouldn’t make him happy.
“Jax is going to take me.”
“Jax.” The centaur’s jaw ticked, the word barely more than a grunt.
“Ajax. He’s going to fly me there.”
“You. Fly you there.” The ticking became much more pronounced.
She sighed, rolling her eyes. “I’ve got to get there somehow, and Leonidas needs me there because I can help alternate the healing when Ari’s spent. We’ll tag-team it, so you shouldn’t worry because it’s not like I’ll be healing him on my own now, not like before. Which is why I got so worn out, really,” she rambled, hoping that if she talked long enough, that livid expression would vanish from Sable’s eyes.
No doing on that count. He slammed a rear hoof into one of the stalls, the impact so hard that the wood splintered into pieces. Sophie flung out a hand, pressing it into his chest. “Whoa there, stallion! You’re getting a little out of control, don’t you think?” She peered up at him.
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