Silence filled the chamber. All eyes shifted to Demetrius, in the back of the group, leaning one shoulder against the wall, only half paying attention to what was happening around him.
And then, when he noticed everyone looking his way, it was as if the king’s words finally hit. Shock ran over Deme-trius’s face just before he dropped his crossed arms and pushed away from the wall. He was the biggest of the guardians, at nearly six feet eight. And the shadowed eyes Callia had often thought were soulless narrowed and darkened to ebony as he homed in on the king. “No. Fucking. Way.”
“Demetrius…” Theron warned in a low voice, letting go of Casey’s hand and rising to his full height.
“I won’t do it,” Demetrius said, shaking his head. “And you cannot make me. No one can make me.”
Theron crossed quickly to stand in front of the giant Argonaut, who was now shaking with a mixture of contempt and resentment that seemed to roll off him in waves. Callia swallowed and wondered if the other females were thinking the same thing she was—namely, that a brawl was about to break out if someone didn’t do something fast.
“Demetrius, stand down.”
“I will not bind myself to that,” Demetrius ground out, his face twisting in fury as he glared over Theron at the king and lifted a hand to point at Isadora. “And you cannot make me.”
Theron said something Callia couldn’t hear, but she didn’t miss Demetrius’s response. No one did. Especially not Isadora, who, standing in the other corner of the room, seemed to shrink into herself even more.
“Kick me out of the Argonauts if you want. Banish me to the human world. I don’t care. But hear me now, Theron. I will never marry that. I’ll choose death first.”
Theron slapped a hand on the bigger Argonaut’s chest and pushed hard.
Oh, jeez. This was not good. Not good at all.
Voices broke out in unison: Casey’s as she rushed to console an obviously shaken Isadora; Theron’s from the doorway, where he was talking Demetrius down from inflicting bodily harm; the other Argonauts as they whispered about what had just happened.
The king, surprisingly, was silent, until a voice from the back of the room called out, “I’ll do it.”
A voice Callia knew all too well.
“Who said that?” The king’s ears perked, and he leaned to the side to peer around the massive guardians toward the speaker, though it did no good.
Conversation quieted. Heads turned toward the doorway. Even Theron and Demetrius stopped arguing long enough to glance sideways.
And Callia’s stomach twisted into a knot as the sea of bodies parted to reveal Zander standing there, staring at the king with nothing but resignation across his bruised and handsomely familiar face.
No, no, no. He can’t possible mean—
“I’ll do it,” Zander said again in the quiet. “I’ll marry Isadora.”
Chapter Three
Okaaay. Not the reaction Zander had been hoping for.
No one in the room said a single word. And oh, yeah. He totally should have thrown himself off that cliff. At least then he wouldn’t have to endure this soul-rattling silence or see the what-the-fuck? looks on his kinsmen’s faces.
He shifted his feet, rested his hands on his hips and waited. As the seconds passed and no one said a word, his unease peaked. Finally, he broke the stare-down and said, “Look, don’t everyone thank me all at once.”
Theron glanced over his shoulder at the king. “We need a minute.”
Before Zander could respond, Theron pushed him back into the hallway with a force that nearly knocked Zander off his feet. The leader of the Argonauts didn’t speak until they were well out of earshot of the king’s chamber, and then he let loose.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Resentment brewed as Zander’s back hit the stone wall. It wasn’t like he expected Theron to be all rosy cheeked and gracious that he’d finally manned-up. Theron had every reason to be suspicious. But a little thanks wasn’t too fucking much to ask, especially now.
“Helping.”
“This isn’t a joke, Zander.”
“I don’t see anyone laughing.”
“Why in Hades would you make light of this situation?”
“I’m not—”
“Skata.” Theron raked his hand through his shoulder-length hair. “I’m already so pissed at Demetrius I can barely see straight. I hate that Isadora is forced to marry anyone, but there’s no way around it. Not if we’re to keep the Council out of Argonaut affairs and Atalanta out of Argolea for good. And I don’t need you adding fuel to the fire and fucking it all up when I—”
“I’m not adding fuel, Theron. I’m serious. I’ll marry her.”
“Serious? You?” Disbelief raced across Theron’s chiseled features. “I doubt that. This isn’t something you can casually volunteer for just to make up for what happened earlier. Or to get you back in the king’s good graces. Marriage to Isadora isn’t until you get bored of her and decide to go back to your human women. This is permanent. The binding ceremony joins two together for—”
“A lifetime. Yeah. I get that. But let’s be honest here. We’re only talking about her lifetime. Not mine.”
Theron’s mouth snapped shut, and Zander took a deep breath, because okay, yeah, there was no turning back from this. Not now that it was out there. And part of him…part of him didn’t want to turn back. “Isadora’s got what, five hundred years until she passes, if that? That’s a long time, but in the grand scheme of my life? Probably nothing, and you know it.”
“Zander, you’re not really—”
“Immortal? Yeah, don’t go there. We both know you’d be wrong anyway.” He wasn’t about to let Theron change his mind. “Demetrius obviously doesn’t want this, and you can’t force him to marry her when he’s so adamantly against it. Not to mention, he’s volatile. He scares the crap out of her on a good day. What do you think he’ll do to her if they’re alone? Do you want her to be miserable for the rest of her life, or worse, be thinking about what he could be doing to her whenever the doors are closed?”
“No.” Theron winced. Looked down at his boots. Seemed as sickened by the idea as Zander was. “Of course I don’t want that. Demetrius is the last guardian I’d choose for her, but the king won’t listen.”
“None of the others want to marry her either,” Zander said quietly. “You could see it in their eyes. Let me do this. I want to. I’m the only one who doesn’t have anything to lose.”
“Zander,” Theron said cautiously, bringing his dark eyes back level with Zander’s, “if you marry Isadora, you sacrifice potentially finding your—”
“My what? My soul mate?” Zander scoffed. “I already found her, Theron. Years ago. Only she didn’t want me. Not enough.” At Theron’s pitying expression, Zander nearly laughed at the irony, even as he felt the ache he’d gotten good at ignoring bubble deep in his chest. “Yeah, Hera’s curse about an Argonaut finding his soul mate and losing her, then being nothing but a shell? It’s true. I know from experience. Before her? I didn’t know what I was missing. Since? It’s like one long-ass day that keeps repeating itself over and over, only there’s no way I can get past it. And you know what? I’m tired of it.”
“Zander…”
The sympathy he heard in his kinsman’s voice was too much, and he ran a hand over his brow. If he didn’t get this conversation back on track he was going to spill the beans to Theron about all the really ugly shit that had gone down, and he didn’t want that. He needed to keep it locked inside. Where it was his and no one else’s.