Page 107 of Queen of Tempests and Sin

I grabbed the teeth just as the enchantments began to unravel. ‘I’ve got them!’ I shouted.

The hooded figure hissed in frustration and cast a blinding curse that blew out all light in the room—total darkness, even for gods.

When vision returned seconds later, the figure was gone. Only a smear of ichor and a single broken scale remained—iridescent black and vibrating with malevolent energy.

Hecate stepped forward, holding the tear in the veil, her fingers brushing the broken scale. ‘This... this is from a drákon. And not one of ours.’

Zeus looked to his brothers, his jaw clenched. ‘They’re killing drákons behind the veil?’

Hecate lifted a shoulder but looked perplexed. ‘Killing drákons removes a check on nature, meaning fewer apex predators, ecological imbalance, or more dangerously, a release in chaotic magic. If they’re drinking the blood…’

The words turned my stomach to stone.

Shadows rippled at the edge of the vault. Bronte and Persephone appeared, panic etched into every line of their faces.

‘Cordie…’ Bronte began.

My heart stuttered, ice flooding my veins. ‘What?’

‘She’s gone,’ Persephone gasped, her voice splintering, shadows lashing out uncontrollably. Her hands trembled as she dragged in a ragged breath. ‘And so has Ajax… I—I tried to hold my vines to her, but—’ She broke off, eyes wild, panic cracking through the goddess’s usual poise.

Hades was at her side in a heartbeat, shadows swallowing hers, steadying them. His hand closed around hers, firm and grounding, though his own jaw was clenched tight enough to crack. ‘Breathe, my queen,’ he said low, a command threaded with desperate tenderness. His gaze snapped to me, darker than the abyss.

The dragon’s teeth nearly slipped from my grip. Pain lanced through me so sharp it stole the breath from my lungs. It wasn’t fury—it was something far worse, a hollow ache splitting me open from within, brutal and raw… as if my chest had been torn wide and the sea ripped out of me, leaving nothing but the echo of her absence.

Ixion had Cordelia.

CHAPTER 35

CORDELIA

My stomach lurched as I was flying, reeling, falling, and being tossed left and right. When my feet hit the ground, a strong hand held me firm, preventing me from toppling off my heels. Then a sharp crack ricocheted through my skull, and everything went black.

* * *

I woke to stone—cold, damp, merciless stone pressing into my back, my arms, my legs, and my bare feet. I groaned, feeling my skull and the cut on my scalp. The air was thick with earth and mildew, as if the walls themselves had been breathing rot for centuries. A shiver ripped through me as I sat up, the chill sinking into my bones.

The cell was vast, but not in a way that offered comfort—more a cavern someone had hacked into shape and abandoned to the dark. Iron bars ran floor to ceiling at one side, blackened with age and slick with condensation. Beyond them, a corridor stretched away, lit only by guttering torches wedged into cracks in the walls. Their flames sputtered, throwing shadows that writhed like living things across the stone.

Chains dangled from the ceiling, some ending in manacles, others in rusted hooks, clinking faintly when a draught whispered through the place. The sound echoed too long, reminding me just how deep underground I must be.

Shadows beckoned like bony fingers, and I wrapped my arms around myself, rubbing at the goosebumps rising along my skin. The smell of blood clung faintly to the stones, metallic and sour, layered over centuries of suffering. This wasn’t just a cell; it was a citadel built for holding power—holding people like me.

A faint vibration hummed through the floor, as though something massive and restless stirred beneath.

And gods, the silence—it wasn’t empty—it was waiting.

‘Well, well.’ The voice came from the other side of the bars, and my head snapped up. Drakos’s nephew, Dimitri—slick and smarmy—he wasn’t just a snake, he was the lowest, sewer-crawling variety. The kind that lived off rot and shit, too gutless to strike unless someone else had already done the hard work.

The asshat leaned against the wall, grin way too pleased with himself, and his gaze slid over me like I was shit on his shoe.

‘So, you’re as much a cock sucker as I thought, you ugly fuckface.’ I spat. ‘It was you who poisoned Drakos.’

His smile widened, teeth flashing in the torchlight. ‘Drakos was worth a hundred million quid,’ he said, all smooth amusement. ‘Once you’re dead and your sister is dealt with, the lot’s mine.’ He laughed then, high and cruel, like the bastard he was.

Fury roared through me. I lunged forward and jammed my hand through the bars, fingers scrabbling for his collar. ‘Lay one finger on Guinn and I’ll⁠—’

He stepped back out of reach and tilted his head, delight practically radiating off him. ‘You’ll what?’ he taunted. ‘From here, love, it looks like you won’t be doing much.’