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No, no, no…

Isis set the fat black candle on the center of Isadora’s belly, right over the pentagram outlined in blood. Then she held her hands over Isadora and the candle and chanted, “Mother, goddess, we call on thee. Set this female’s inhibitions free. Let her have dreams of lust and desire. To ready the way for our rebirth through fire. As I will thee, so mote it be.”

Unbridled lust? Passion? Oh holy hell…no. Panic and a sense of urgency welled in Isadora as she wrestled against the bonds. Isis lifted the candle, titled it sideways. Isadora’s eyes grew wide and she struggled harder. A single drop of melted wax rolled over the side of the fat candle to drip down toward her bare flesh.

Her back arched off the table when the wax made contact. A scream tore from her lungs as the tender skin between her breasts sizzled and burned. Tears flooded her eyes, and her vision blurred. And though she fought it, she felt as if something were crawling into her skin, settling deep in her bones, dragging her down into a murky abyss.

She couldn’t see the black magick taking hold, but she could feel it. Slowly, her limbs grew heavy again. That fog descended. Her muscles relaxed one by one, even though her soul screamed for freedom.

“That’s it,” Isis said from what seemed like a great distance. “Good, paidi. Let the magick work. Let it flow through your body. See? We’re going to make this good for you. In a while, Princess, there will be nothing to fear. Only mindless pleasure.”

A hand ran over her forehead. One that was warm and gentle. And though Isadora struggled to stay conscious, darkness edged in. A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye and rolled down her temple.

“Sleep now,” Isis said softly. “And rest. Your future has taken a new path, paidi. Your new queen is waiting. And through your desire, we will be reborn.”

Chapter 2

Casey knew when something wasn’t right. This was one of those times.

“Are you sure you questioned all the castle guards?” Theron asked.

Zander rubbed a hand across his jaw, studied the map on the desk in front of them—the desk that sat in the middle of what used to be the king’s office, but now served as HQ for Argonaut business. “All of them. No one’s come or gone in the last hour. Theron, the place was locked down for the binding ceremony. There’s no way she could have gotten out without someone seeing something.”

Theron sighed, ran a hand over his shoulder-length dark hair as he studied the map more closely. They were both dressed in the traditional Argonaut fighting gear they wore when they battled daemons in the human realm, and were roughly the same height and size—over six and a half feet tall and built like tanks. And with their heads together like that, they could have passed for brothers. If, that is, one ignored the fact that Theron, their leader, was dark and Zander looked like a larger version of David Beckham.

Casey watched, tormented by Theron’s frustration. Her husband was a worrier. It was part of his job. Part of who he was. Every minute his guardians were out on patrol, his concern for their safety consumed him. But this was different. This wasn’t simply worry over Isadora’s disappearance just before her scheduled binding. This was fear. That something had happened to her. That she was in trouble. That if something truly had gone wrong, Isadora wasn’t the only one who would be affected.

His eyes lifted, almost as if he sensed Casey’s thoughts, and held on hers. Midnight eyes. Ones she never tired of looking at. Ones that said, You are mine and I won’t let anything happen to you. “Acacia? What is it?”

Casey sighed. She wasn’t helping his anxiety. But then, how could she? She and Isadora weren’t just half sisters, they were linked through prophecy. Though they’d yet to test the boundaries, they couldn’t be separated too far or too long before the illness that had racked them both once before returned. And while Casey didn’t feel sick—yet—she sensed this entire situation was not at all what they thought.

She took a step toward the desk. “Theron, she didn’t just run off.”

“And what makes you so sure of that?”

All three glanced toward the open doorway where Demetrius stood, scowling into the room. Behind him, Gryphon rolled his eyes and Phineus looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

Casey set her jaw as Demetrius stalked into the room with the others at his back. He was the biggest of the Argonauts, at nearly six feet eight inches and three hundred pounds, with short dark hair and a case of mean-cuss Casey hadn’t encountered before. He didn’t like anyone, didn’t care about monarchy business, and his contempt for Isadora was widely known.

“Because she’s not stupid, Demetrius,” Casey said, “contrary to what you may think.”

“You don’t want to know what I think, human.”

Casey crossed her arms. She wasn’t entirely human. She was Misos—half human, half Argolean. And his prejudices were wearing on her already-frayed nerves, especially since all Argoleans—including him—were descendants of the great Greek heroes who had established this realm in the first place. “You seem to forget that some small part of you is human too.”

“Don’t bet on it.”

He was trying to intimidate her. But it wouldn’t work. “You don’t scare me.”

His gaze narrowed. “I should.”

“Demetrius,” Theron cut in, “enough.”

At the sound of footfalls out in the hall, they all looked to the door again. Callia, Zander’s mate, hesitated in the opening, her auburn hair tousled around her shoulders, her eyes wild.

Zander instantly read the alarm in her eyes and moved toward her. “Thea, what?

“I…” Callia curled into Zander’s touch. Showed no resistance when he slipped his arm around her and pulled her close. And their connection was touching to watch, especially when Casey remembered that only hours ago they’d both been resigned to the fact the king was going to hold Zander to his agreement to marry Isadora. Thank God Casey’s father had come to his senses. Anyone within a mile could tell these two were meant for each other. Callia tipped her face up to Zander’s. “I felt something. A—”

“A tingle,” Casey finished from across the room. When Callia and Zander both looked her way, she added, “I felt it too.”

Theron glanced from one female to the other. Then to Zander. He could sense anytime Callia was hurt or in danger, but that didn’t extend to her sisters and their connection as the modern-day Horae.

“I didn’t feel anything,” Zander said. “I’m linked to her”—he nodded at Callia—“not the other two.”

Theron’s growing frustration was evident in his eyes as he rubbed his forehead. “No, that’d be too much to ask, now, wouldn’t it?”

Voices kicked up in the room, speculation about where Isadora had gone and how they were going to find her. Theron ran a hand down his face as he listened to varying theories, rested his palms on his hips, and looked like he had a headache the size of Mount Rushmore.

The marking on Casey’s lower back, the one that looked like an omega with wings and was identical to what Callia had on her neck and Isadora had on her leg, started to pulse. She caught her half sister’s gaze across the room and knew Callia’s marking was pulsing as well.

She put herself between Theron and Demetrius. “Stop it, right now. She didn’t run off.”