Gasps rose up from the audience. Furious, the queen whipped toward the crowd to see where the arrow had come from.
Another whir cut through the silence. The queen flinched. This time the banner just to the right of her head ignited in flames.
“Guards!”
Screams echoed.
Titus lifted his head to see what the hell was going on. Nymphs and Amazons rushed in every direction. The guards scrambled, armor clinking. Another whir echoed through the air, then the queen’s robe, lying where she’d dropped it on the stage, bust into flames.
“Natasa,” the queen growled. She pointed toward the trees on the far side of the crowd. “Find her!”
Excitement flooded Titus. She’d come for him, even after she’d been so freaked out in her tent. He pulled against the bonds and searched for her in the sea of faces.
The queen leapt off the altar and lurched into the crowd.
Another whir. Another banner caught fire. Titus pulled and wrestled with the bindings. If he could just break free… If he could get to her...
“There!” A voice rang out clear.
Before Titus could track where the guard was pointing, an entire tree exploded.
A thud echoed to his right. He strained to look behind him. Natasa pushed to her feet yards away, her eyes as intense as he’d ever seen them, her face illuminated by the flames around her, making her look like a fire-goddess.
Relief and hope and excitement shot through his entire body. Then quickly shifted to bone-chilling fear. At her back, closing in fast, an Amazon raced toward her with sword held high.
“Behind you!”
Natasa dropped the bow in her hand and reached back for her dagger. Panic overwhelming him, Titus strained against the cuffs with every ounce of strength left. She didn’t have time to react. She—
The chain anchoring one wrist gave with a snap. The other burst free. He bolted upright, kicked out at the shackles around his ankles. Couldn’t take his eyes off Natasa.
She whipped around. The Amazon knocked the dagger from her hand, and it went flying. Natasa stumbled and hit the end of the stone slab with a grunt. Titus’s heart lurched into his throat, and he reached for her but she was too far away.
“Natasa!”
The Amazon pulled her blade back, but before it could slice deep into Natasa’s flesh, the warrior jerked. Her blade cracked against the stone slab, hit the wood decking, and slid down the steps of the stage. Then her body slumped to the ground with a thud. A black arrow stuck out of her side. Blood pooled all around her body.
Natasa’s eyes grew side. She scrambled back. More shouts echoed from deeper in the city, and her head whipped that direction just as Titus’s did. Blood-curdling screams reached his ears, followed by hooves pounding the earth and male voices rising in the night sky.
Natasa lurched to the railing and looked down. Shock raced over her features. She stumbled back, turned, grabbed her dagger from the ground, and raced toward Titus.
“What the hell’s happening?” He fumbled with the bindings on his right ankle. That arrow hadn’t come from her. And he was pretty sure it wasn’t an Amazon weapon. Which meant it had to have come from someone or something else.
Natasa sheathed her blade, then unstrapped his other leg. “Zagreus’s army found us.”
“Zagreus…as in Hades’s fucking son?”
Her hand closed over his upper arm, and she pulled him from the altar. “I don’t know how, but be thankful. I wasn’t going to be able to distract Aella’s guards for long with my flaming arrows.”
Heat built in his veins and shot straight to his belly.
She tugged him out of the torchlight and into the shadows of a tent. As soon as they were covered by darkness, he closed his hand over her wrist, yanked her close, and captured her mouth with his own.
She gasped in surprise, but he didn’t let it slow him. He dipped into her mouth, slid his tongue along hers, and reveled in the warm, wet taste of her. That and the fact he couldn’t feel anything other than the heat of her body, the silkiness of her skin, and the pulse in her veins that indicated she was alive.
He pulled back and brushed his finger over her soft cheek. “You did it again. You saved me. You do care.”
“I…” A frown turned her lips. But he saw the desire in her eyes. And the heat. “I haven’t saved you yet. Save your thanks for someone who deserves it.”
He kissed her again. Quick. Safe. Chaste. Not at all like he wanted to kiss her. “I will. When we get out of here and are finally alone, I’ll thank you properly. That’s a promise.”
Something in her eyes warned that wasn’t a good idea, but he ignored it. She’d come back for him. That meant something.
He grasped her hand and led her around the other side of the tent. A sound that was oddly similar to a horse whinnying or a goat baying rose up from below. The clank of steel against steel echoed through the trees. He peeked over the railing and watched an Amazon lunge at a man dressed all in black with a thick beard, his head shaved and painted white with a black stripe down the middle.
“Zagreus, you said?” Titus asked in a whisper.
“His satyrs,” Natasa answered, her voice thick. “Evil satyrs who thrive in his pain palace. That’s why the nymphs are here. The Amazons protect any otherworldly females being hunted.”
Titus looked closer and realized the man—no, satyr—wasn’t wearing shoes. Where feet should be, hooves peeked out beneath his pants.
He turned to look at Natasa. Her gaze was fixed on the battle below, but when she lifted stormy eyes to his, he saw fear.
He squeezed her warm hand. “Zagreus isn’t going to catch you.”
“He’s not the one I’m afraid of.”
Emotions brewed in her eyes. Emotions he couldn’t feel in her skin or read with his mind. He wanted to ask what had spooked her. Wanted to know who and what she was hiding from. But this wasn’t the time or place. And when she glanced away and blinked several times like she was holding back tears, he told himself whatever happened, he had to keep her safe.
“Come on.”
He tugged her with him. Crouched low so they wouldn’t be spotted and moved behind another tent. The battle echoed from decking to their right. Zagreus’s army had reached the city.
Skata, he needed a weapon. He scanned the area as they ducked from one shadow to another. Any kind of sword would suit him just fine right about now.
“We need to get to the ground,” he told her.
Natasa pulled back on his arm when he would have rounded another tree. “This way.”
He followed, thankful she hadn’t let go. She tugged him around another tent, then drew up short and gasped.
Titus hit her from the back, looked up, and realized why she’d stopped.
A satyr sniffed the air once, muttered, “Not a nymph,” then lifted the sword in his arm and swung.
“Get back!” Titus knocked Natasa out of the way and lunged for the beast.
Natasa screamed. Titus hit the goat man in the waist, and the two toppled to the decking.
Titus’s head swam. The satyr’s emotions pummeled him, but he fought against the emotional transfer. Pain ricocheted through his body, and in a rush he realized most of what the beast was conjuring was hate. He could funnel that. Like Atalanta’s daemons. He let the hate feed him.
His arm felt like dead weight, but Titus hauled back then plowed his fist into the satyr’s jaw. The beast’s head cracked against the decking. Titus did it again and again, until blood pooled from the creature’s mouth and his hairy arms went limp against the wood.
“Titus!
Natasa’s hand tugged at his shoulder. Warmth flowed into his bare skin, slid beneath his ribs, and condensed. He stumbled off the beast and swayed. Natasa turned him, wrapped both arms around his waist, and pulled his weight against her, keeping him from landing on his ass.