Anubis considered his observation. “Wrong? No. Foolish? Maybe.” He shook his head. “She is trying to protect us by controlling information. We are trying to protect her by demanding it. It seems neither of us trusts the other to handle the truth.”
“So, what do we do?”
“We trust her. Even knowing she is keeping secrets, and that it might get her killed.” He met Hypnos’ eyes. “The alternative is becoming her jailers instead of her protectors.”
Hypnos huffed; Anubis wasn’t sure if he agreed with him or not.
Out here, thousands of miles away from Iliana, wasn’t where Anubis wanted to be. “It has been hours. If someone were after Iliana, they would have struck by now. We should return to her. Besides, she will be sleeping soon and will need you there.”
Hypnos sheathed his sword but didn’t move to leave. “You think Hermes was wrong?”
Anubis shook his head. “No, but we may have been drawn here for another reason, or someone wanted us out of the way.”
Frowning, Hypnos asked, “You don’t think Hermes was setting us up, do you?”
“No.” Anubis was sure of that. Hermes was many things, but he wasn’t stupid enough to manipulate them when Iliana was in danger. Anubis had seen the way the god was when he was around her. Yes, curiosity seemed to drive Hermes, but Anubis had seen his concern when he looked at Iliana. His affection, even. “But it could be possible that he was fed worthless information, either deliberately or because he trusted the source.”
Hypnos scowled, rubbing his face. “Fantastic. Now we’re reacting to nosy spirits while figuring out Iliana’s curse.”
Anubis remained silent. He knew Hypnos’ frustration stemmed from the lack of progress he’d had with her curse. “Let us go,” he said.
Anubis gave one final look at the house. Silent when it had been full of life recently. Cold and lifeless without Iliana’s smiles, laughs, and bright spirit.
Anubis left the cold mountain behind—returning to her side.
Chapter forty-six
THANATOS
For Thanatos, flying with Iliana in his arms was a welcome distraction from his foul mood.
His sisters had always been stingy with their knowledge—half-truths and riddles vague enough to irritate and let worry burrow under his skin.
Then Anubis had questioned whether Thanatos could keep her safe. He knew it came from concern for her, but the doubt lodged in his chest. Centuries ago, it would’ve eaten at him.Not anymore. After all they’d been through, he knew better. He could protect Iliana. He wasn’t just a shadow of death, but someone she trusted.
His circling thoughts fell away the moment Iliana wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. At first, her hold was tight, as if bracing for impact. The tension from the Fates and the secrets she held kept her rigid in his arms.
He launched them skyward in a single sweeping motion.
For a few seconds, Iliana was silent. Then the wind caught them, and he felt the moment she let go. A delighted squeal burst against his skin where her face was still buried. It wasn’t just joy; it was relief. Release. Freedom from whatever weight she’d been carrying since leaving the Fates’ cave.
He could’ve teleported them to his safe house in the Gobi Desert, but he didn’t. Instead, he flew in erratic, unpredictable patterns. They teleported mid-air from one continent to another. For her, it must’ve seemed like a breathtaking sky-bound tour, but for him, it was a way to lose any potential pursuers.
And a selfish excuse to hold her longer.
Somewhere, people plotted to harm the woman in his arms. Instead of hunting them down, he held her—pretending they had all the time in the world.
But this mattered too. Maybe even more than fighting the dangers she faced.
If he couldn’t give her these brief moments, when she wasn’t just a prophecy or a problem to solve, what was the point of protecting her at all?
When he finally slowed, Iliana’s breathing was ragged, and her cheeks were pink from the icy wind and adrenaline. Her eyes were clearer than they’d been on the ground outside the cave. The flight seemed to have blown away the worries that had latched onto her after meeting his sisters.
He’d given her this reprieve—one where prophecies and curses didn’t matter. Just them, the wind, and the world spread below.
She stared at his wings, her eyes shining in the moonlight, fascinated and unafraid. That expression warmed the cold façade he’d worn for centuries.
He touched down before a solitary yurt in the desert. It was a simple circular hut, similar to those used by the area’s nomadic tribes.
