Isadora’s chest rose and fell in short, labored breaths. Clutching the bedpost, she lifted her eyes and tried to focus. Shock raced across Saphira’s delicate features when she realized Isadora was in the midst of a major panic attack.
Shock? Get in line.
The handmaiden dropped the veil in her hands and rushed close.
“Oh, my lady.” Still holding the mug in one hand, Saphira wrapped her other arm around Isadora and supported her weight. Isadora clutched onto the female’s thin shoulders. “Blast the king for doing this to you. It’s not right.”
“I…can’t…breathe.”
“Of course you can’t. No one could in your place.” Saphira led Isadora to the ottoman in the sitting area. Determination hardened her features. “You’re not doing this. I won’t let you.”
“You…you…cannot…stop it. No one…can.” Oh, gods…
Saphira clenched her jaw and pushed the mug into Isadora’s hands. “Drink this.”
“I—”
“Drink it,” she said in a commanding voice, one Isadora had never heard from the female. “You’ll feel better once you do.”
Hand shaking, Isadora brought the cup to her lips. She smelled lavender and something else in the tea. Something vaguely familiar. The steaming liquid blazed a heated trail down Isadora’s throat and warmed her from the inside out. Her muscles slowly relaxed one by one.
Saphira knelt at Isadora’s feet. “There. Better?”
Slowly, Isadora nodded. Took another sip. The panic attack was waning. But if she thought too much about what had to happen next…
Saphira’s chilled hands gripped Isadora’s knees through the thin fabric of her gown. “I have friends who can help you.”
“H-how?”
“They can take you away from this until your father passes. Once he’s gone, they can bring you back.”
Isadora’s brow lowered. It couldn’t be that simple, could it? Something in the back of her head yelled, No! But she was having trouble listening. Her brain felt heavy and…foggy.
Saphira pushed the cup back to her lips. “Drink again.”
Right. Drink. That’s what she should do. It would make her feel better. But…
Her muscles didn’t seem to work. When Saphira tilted the cup, Isadora had no choice but to take another sip. As the warm liquid slid into her belly, she felt the last bit of stress slide right out of her body.
A feral smile swept across Saphira’s face. “Good. That’s good, Princess.”
Something in Saphira’s expression set off warning bells in Isadora’s mind, but they were drowned out by one thought. “C-Casey.” She couldn’t be away from her sister for long. It was part of their connection as the Chosen.
“Don’t you worry your little head about Casey. I promise you won’t have to think of her much longer.” Saphira rose as if it was all decided. She pulled Isadora to her feet, caught her when she swayed. And vaguely the princess realized her handmaiden was stronger than she’d ever seemed before. Which was just…strange.
“I’ll get you out of here, Princess. And in a matter of hours, this will all be just a memory. You trust me don’t you?”
As if on cue, Isadora nodded, though she felt as if she saw herself doing it from a great distance and had no control over the action.
Saphira smiled again. “Good. And I’ve never let you down, have I?”
No. But that little voice in the back of Isadora’s head that was quickly being smothered screamed that it only took once…
Chapter Twenty-Four
Callia looked up from the book in her lap and stared out the window at the rain drizzling Tiyrns. It was useless to try to read today. First her father’s funeral rite at the Stone Circle, then the rain and soon…Zander’s binding.
She closed the book, leaned her head against the cool glass and drew deep breaths. Even her favorite window seat and a copy of Gone with the Wind, which Orpheus had given to her after they returned home, didn’t ease the ache in her soul.
This was all for the best. For her, for Zander, for everyone. If she repeated it enough times, maybe she’d believe it.
A sound at her back brought her head around. Max stood in the doorway to the kitchen with his hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans and a look of worry across his handsome face. She swiped at her cheeks, pushed away from the window. “I didn’t hear you.”
After the funeral rite, he’d come home and lain down for a nap, just like he had yesterday. She knew he was fine, but she still worried. And every time she thought about the way he’d extracted Atalanta’s energy on that hill and turned it back on her…
Even Max didn’t realize how truly special he was. Now she understood how he’d stayed alive in the Underworld all that time and how he’d held his own against Atalanta’s daemons, even if he didn’t. Whatever powers they’d used on him he’d been able to twist around and utilize to his benefit. The gift of transference was an incredible power. One many—not just Atalanta—would love to get their hands on. And for that and other reasons, he wasn’t getting out of her sight. But, Callia knew from her own limited experience transferring illnesses, it was also draining. No wonder he looked like he could sleep for a week and never catch up.
She forced a smile she didn’t feel and moved toward him. “Would you like something to eat?”
He shook his blond head. “I…I heard the bells.”
“What bells?”
“The castle bells. Today at the Stone Circle, Casey told me what they mean.”
Meddling Misos. Callia closed her eyes. Shook her head. Felt that ache all over again. “Your newfound aunt needs to learn to keep her mouth shut.”
He moved down the two steps into the sunken living room, with its dark woods and formal furnishings, his little, perfect, bare feet making not a single sound on the hardwood floors her father had loved so much. “You’re doing this because of me, aren’t you?”
The anger she heard in his voice and the way his eyes flashed that swirling smoky gray before resettling to their normal silver color reminded her of Zander. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m stronger than you think.”
That ache intensified. “I don’t want you to have to be strong, Max,” she whispered as he stopped in front of her. “You’ve been strong long enough. It’s time for us to do that for you.”
He reached out and took her hand, and as she looked down she saw the markings on his forearms that ran down his fingers and now spread out to entwine hers. And she had a memory flash. Of that suite in the half-breed colony. Of her and Zander in that big bed. Of his fingers intertwined with hers. Of those markings over and around her as if she were a part of them herself.
“I didn’t think you wanted me,” he said in a soft voice, looking down at their hands. “I dreamed about it at night. But during the day, I convinced myself you didn’t. That you couldn’t…That someone like me was…unlovable.”
His silver eyes lifted to hers, and she knew he saw the tears in hers but she didn’t look away. Or answer. Because she owed him this much.
“The little old lady with the glass told me to remember my humanity. I didn’t think it would matter, but…I was wrong. Humanity can’t save a person, but it can give you hope. And without that…well, you might as well just become one of Atalanta’s daemons.”
That ache in her chest engulfed her entire being until she thought it might just consume her.
“It seems like a silly little thing,” he said softer, “but sometimes hope can be enough to make all the difference.”
She leaned over so they were face-to-face. “You’re not supposed to be smarter than me at ten years of age.”