Only problem was, it wasn’t in any way, shape or form the way the king wanted.
Chapter Five
Isadora stepped from the shower and tugged a plush towel around her body. After the scene in her father’s chamber, she’d felt dirty. Had needed to wash off the stain the entire ordeal left behind. The way they’d all stared at her. The things Demetrius had said…
She grabbed another towel and wrung the water from her hair to keep from focusing on his words again, then tossed it on the counter.
In her bedroom she eyed the heavy full-length gown that Saphira, her handmaiden, had left hanging on the closet door. Her stomach pitched. She couldn’t stand to look at that dress. Hated covering her skin with it. Despised the weight and texture. Sickness welled in her stomach at the thought of doing one more thing someone else wanted her to do. Instead she ripped the towel from her body, tossed it onto the bed and took a deep breath.
Pants. She wanted pants. But where would she get them? She lifted her thumb, gnawed on the tip of her nail. She could ask Casey. Her half-sister would jump at the chance to help her out on this one. Of course, if her father saw her dressed in anything other than a gown it might shock him into cardiac arrest.
“Isadora?”
Zander’s voice in the anteroom hit her a microsecond before the door to her chamber pushed open and he stepped inside. Where he stopped. Dead in his tracks. And didn’t move.
And oh, shit. Heat rushed to her cheeks at what he—the first male ever—was seeing. She scrambled for the towel and wrapped it tight around her body, wishing she’d thought to grab her robe from the bathroom.
Good gods, why was he here? And why in the name of all things holy was she freaking out like some spineless virgin?
Because, technically, you are one, Isa.
“I, uh…I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t realize you weren’t…decent.”
Obviously. But now that he knew, why wasn’t he making any attempt to leave?
“It’s…it’s all right,” she said, searching for composure. “I just didn’t expect you…anyone…to come barging in.”
Where in the blazes was Saphira?
He didn’t respond. And when she finally turned to face him, she found he was staring at her with a blank expression she couldn’t possibly read.
Which, okay, shouldn’t surprise her. She knew she wasn’t a hot commodity. She was too pale, too thin, bony where she should be curvy. So it was no surprise he didn’t look overly pleased by what he’d seen. But this…this was just…awkward. She’d barely said ten words to him in all her life, and now they were standing here face-to-face, her nearly naked, with the weight of a marriage looming between them and the knowledge that in a matter of days they’d be having…sex.
When he still didn’t say anything, just continued to stare at her with that stone-faced expression, she dug down deep and pulled up her courage. “Did…did you want something, Zander?”
Nice one, Isa. He’s male. He’s an Argonaut. He just barged into your bedroom like he owns the place. And you’re practically naked. What the hell do you think he wants?
Or did before he saw you…
She tugged the towel closer. Curled her bare toes into the thick carpet. Waited.
Finally, after what felt like an hour, he opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, then closed it just as quickly. His head lowered, and he rubbed a hand across his brow. “I’m not quite sure what I’m doing here,” he muttered. Then louder, “No. I do know.” He looked up. “You’re father’s forcing this marriage on you. You don’t want it, do you?”
“I…” Isadora didn’t know what to say. If she agreed with him, he’d know how she truly felt, and their binding would start off with animosity between them. But if she wasn’t honest, they’d never be on equal footing. And though her father didn’t yet realize it, she didn’t intend to let any ándras, this one included, bully her again. “No,” she said firmly, straightening her spine. “I do not.”
“I didn’t think so.” He dropped his hand, locked his gaze with hers. He was truly handsome, bronze and buff and blond, but she didn’t feel even an ounce of attraction toward him. Never had. “I’m glad you told me. But as archaic as I know it is, in this situation, your father has the final say.”
Yeah, she knew that too. And she didn’t like it. Her jaw clenched.
“However,” Zander said, glancing down at his hands, “I don’t like the way this was forced. So…” He paused, seemed to gather his words. “What Demetrius said, back in the king’s chambers.” His gray eyes lifted to hers again. “That was wrong of him. And I for one apologize if he upset you. There are facets of Demetrius even the rest of us don’t understand.”
Isadora didn’t answer, but her blood pressure shot up at the mere mention of Demetrius’s name. For the first time in weeks—since returning from Hades, where she’d sacrificed her soul and a great deal more to save Casey—she felt something other than numb. Bitter hatred burned in her veins. The kind she thought she’d been saving only for Hades himself for what he’d put her through in the hours she’d been in his realm. But no, this burst of emotion was centered directly on Demetrius.
“I’m sure you would not choose Demetrius if you could,” Zander went on. “But if there’s another Argonaut…one of the others, whom you’d rather have fill this place…I’d like you to tell me now.”
Isadora’s eyes narrowed. “You do not want to marry me either.”
“No,” Zander said quickly. “It’s not that. I do. I mean…I wouldn’t have volunteered if I didn’t. I…” He shifted his feet, rested his hands on his hips and blew out a breath. “I just think you should have a choice in this matter. A female should always be able to choose who she wants to be with.”
This was not a conversation Isadora had ever expected to be having. Not with him. Not with anyone. He was offering her a choice. Him or one of the others. Unlike her father, he wasn’t going to force her to marry him. And though she had a feeling binding himself to her was not his first choice either, for whatever reason, he’d committed to this. And yet…he was leaving the final decision up to her.
She thought about him. What little she knew of him. Years ago he’d had the reputation of being a player, but lately that had waned, for reasons she didn’t quite understand. It was rumored his tastes ran more toward human women, and he hadn’t been seen with any Argolean gynaíka, at least not that she knew of. And she was usually kept up to speed on what the Argonauts were up to, at least personally, because Saphira and her horde of friends liked to gossip. But he was always polite. He didn’t seem to care much about the Council or their rumblings, and he was a fierce guardian. One who, rumor had it, couldn’t be killed.
Those were good traits to pass to a child.
She thought about the other Argonauts. Cerek, with his friendly smile and stormy eyes that hinted of secrets she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Titus, who she’d never seen look anything but stoic and whose knowing glances put her on edge whenever he came near the castle. Gryphon’s piercing light eyes that screamed of conquests near and far—and several inside this very castle. And Phineus, Mr. Adventure, rebel without a cause, the one rumored to breathe fire.
She definitely didn’t want to wake up charred in her own bed. Or know the gynaíka who served her at the castle had also served her spouse in private. Or have her own secrets pulled from her mind without permission. And she definitely didn’t want to be privy to the darkness her spouse held that could threaten to drag her deeper into an abyss she already wasn’t sure how to crawl out of.