“Then where is he?”
“He’s…”
“He’s in Erebus,” Callia finished when it was clear Casey didn’t want to go on.
Isadora looked from one sister to the next. “Erebus? The prison? But why?” She flexed her fingers, desperate for something to do. They still ached from where Demetrius had hurt her in Atalanta’s chamber, but she knew now he’d done that to trick the goddess so she wouldn’t suspect he’d turn on her. No matter what he’d done up until that point, no matter what his motives had been before, he’d saved her. “I don’t—”
“Between Gryphon’s testimony that Demetrius betrayed the Argonauts and what Theron found in his flat,” Casey said, “the Council’s charged him with treason.”
“Wait.” Isadora held up a hand. “Gryphon’s gone.”
“He was here. The guys found him after the daemons took you from the field. He told the others what happened outside the colony.”
Her mind flashed back to that moment when she’d stepped through the portal from Thrace Castle and realized they were surrounded by daemons. Demetrius had been shocked. She knew in her heart he hadn’t planned that any more than she had. “Gryphon was hurt. He wasn’t thinking clearly. I was there. Demetrius tried to save us. I don’t know what you’re talking about with regard to his flat, but—”
“He’s been planning your abduction for months, Isadora.” At Callia’s bombshell, Isadora swung her attention to her other sister. “He had pictures of you all over his flat. A telescope that looked over the rooftops into your suite. Drawings of you, maps of the castle. Isadora”—her voice softened—“he’s Atalanta’s son. You yourself told us he wasn’t what we all thought.”
Confusion welled in Isadora’s chest. “I know what I told you, but…my gods, we’re all related to someone we don’t want to be related to. Do I need to remind you both about the hideous things our own father has done?”
Casey sighed. “It’s more than that, Isa. His lineage and the evidence combined with his attitude are damning.”
“What do you mean, ‘his attitude’?”
“He’s not talking,” Callia answered. “When the king questioned him, when the Council questioned him. He won’t explain where you two were, how you ended up with Atalanta, or what happened while you were gone.”
Isadora glanced at her skirt. “Why wouldn’t he just tell them the truth? Why would he…?”
Color swirled before her eyes, and she saw herself standing in her closet, staring at a sea of gowns, each one more stifling than the last. She wasn’t that princess anymore. She wasn’t meek and timid and easily pushed around any longer. If the last week had taught her anything, it was that she was strong and confident and that she mattered. The gowns were nothing more than a facade.
You can’t save me.
Why not?
Because some things aren’t worth the effort.
Her chest grew tight. And in a rush she understood why Demetrius had been so cruel to her. For so many years he’d been trying to protect her from himself—because of who and what he thought he was. But he wasn’t like Atalanta. Yes, something dark lurked inside him, but it didn’t rule him. Even when he’d been surrounded by temptation of the most evil kind, he hadn’t given in to it to the point of no return. And now, to keep the Council and the king and the Argonauts from knowing what had truly happened between them on that island, he was reverting back to his old ways. Protecting her with the same I-don’t-give-a-shit-about-anyone pretense he’d always used.
“Ilithios,” she muttered, heat rising in her cheeks as she pushed past her sisters and headed toward the door. “It won’t work, you big jerk. Not this time.”
“Isadora?” Casey asked with worry in her normally confident voice. “Where are you going?”
“To Erebus.”
“He won’t see you,” Callia said quickly. “He won’t see anyone. We’ve already tried.”
“Oh, he’ll see me.” She grasped the door handle and pulled.
“How can you be so sure?” Casey asked.
“Because I know a secret the rest of you don’t. I’m his soul mate. And he can be an ass all he likes to everyone else, but not to me. Not anymore.”
Voices dragged Demetrius’s eyes open. He eased his head away from the cold stone wall where he’d been trying to sleep and peered toward the dark staircase that ran to the guard’s station one level up.
His cellblock was isolated in the bowels of Erebus where he couldn’t interact with any other prisoners. The bars were steel, the cot so damn uncomfortable he’d parked himself on the floor with his back against the wall and his knees drawn up while he tried to clear his mind.
It hadn’t worked. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Isadora’s face when she’d looked at him in Atalanta’s chamber. The fear, the disgust. But mostly the pain.
The voices picked up—some kind of commotion was happening at the guard’s station. Had the Council decided on his punishment already? It’d only been a few hours since he’d told them to fuck off. Since he fully expected to be executed at any moment, he’d have preferred that Orpheus hadn’t hauled his ass back here, but the end result was going to be the same, now, wasn’t it? At least Isadora would soon be free.
His heart clenched at the thought of her, but he ignored the feeling. Atalanta was gone—that was another plus—but she’d be back. He had no doubt the goddess would somehow find a way out of the Fields of Asphodel, where he and Orpheus had banished her by uniting their Medean powers. Ironic, really, that he’d fought his Medean heritage for so long and yet he’d needed it to defeat Atalanta. Ironic also that what he and Orpheus had done wasn’t all that different from what those witches had done to keep Apophis locked in Thrace Castle for thousands of years. He was still more than a little surprised Orpheus was part witch, but he didn’t have the strength or energy to care much about the ándras’s intentions now. The only question left burning his gray matter was whether Isadora was really pregnant or if that had been another of Atalanta’s lies.
The voices died off and footsteps echoed down the stone steps. He pushed up, careful to keep his hands behind him, palms flat against the cold stones at his back while he waited for his fate.
The guard came down first, but there was no executioner in his wake. What followed was a swish of powder blue silk that lightened the entire room and looked like a breath of fresh air in this dark dungeon. His throat closed as Isadora moved down the last step.
She wasn’t pale and dirty anymore. Dressed in the wide-collared light blue dress that showed off her dainty shoulders, she looked like the queen she would soon become. The bell sleeves made her hands appear that much more delicate. The nipped waist reminded him how he’d been able to span her rib cage with his hands. And the A-line skirt sent thoughts of the treasures hidden beneath rushing through his mind.
Her chocolate eyes fell on his, held. He didn’t move forward, just tried like crazy to still his pounding heart.
“Leave us,” she said to the guard.
“I…” The guard stiffened. “The king has ordered the prisoner not be left unattended in the presence of visitors.”
Isadora glared at the guard. “My father will be dead in a matter of weeks and I’ll be your new queen. If you don’t leave us now, I guarantee I will remember your name. And the consequences will be severe.”
“But the king made it clear—”
“Now,” Isadora said louder.
Unease rushed over the guard’s face, but he backed toward the stairs. “I…I’ll be right upstairs. If you need something…”