Page 4 of Queen of Tempests and Sin

‘Get out,’ he barked, turning his back on her. Mimi didn’t need telling twice—she bolted like a rabbit. ‘Cordelia, welcome home.’ His gaze travelled from my toes to my face.

‘Thank you, Father.’

Calling him that made my stomach twist like I’d swallowed glass, but I’d learned the hard way—pick your battles—and never poke the snake when he’s already watching. He might be twenty years older than me, but he was still strong and fit, and annoyingly handsome. Worse, he held a card I couldn’t afford to fold—one he used to keep me on a leash.

‘I assume your trip went as expected?’

‘It went very well, thank you.’ At my words, an extremely slow and very wide grin unfolded on his face, making him look creepy, and causing a cascade of spiders to skitter down my spine.

‘Let me change and we will go to my office, my little flower.’ I fought not to gnash my teeth at the pet name. I hated it, but not as much as the hatred I felt for him.

As we entered his office, an assistant scurried in carrying a tray of tea and a selection of bite-sized confectionery. I poured for us both and snaffled several petit-fours as I sipped my tea, and as Drakos settled behind his desk, a rapid knocking on the door made him curse.

‘Enter,’ he grunted with displeasure.

The door opened—and light spilled in. She was fifteen going on fifty—still soft at the edges but already walking with the grace and confidence of a woman in bloom. Olive skin, light brown hair that tumbled to her waist, and eyes the colour of warm hazelwood. She was everything good and bright in my life.

She looked just like our mother. And that made me both fiercely protective and permanently on edge.

‘Cordie!’ She ran in and threw her arms around me.

‘Guinn, baby.’ I kissed the top of her head, then held her at arm’s length. That’s when I saw it—a bruise on her cheekbone, darkening into the shape of someone’s careless anger.

My stomach turned molten. I dropped my hands, curling them into fists so tight my nails bit into my palms.

‘What happened to your face?’

‘Oh, it’s nothing.’ Her eyes flitted to Drakos. ‘It happened in training.’

Bullshit. Guinevere wasn’t some clueless little girl. She held her own in self-defence, and her mind was sharper than anyone’s in the room… but she was also fifteen and still under his control—and I wasn’t free enough to protect her. Not yet.

Drakos knew exactly what she was. A prodigy. A diamond. She was already overseeing his IT operations between classes—hardening his network, laundering his data trails, slipping through firewalls like smoke. She was the future of that side of his empire… Or so he thought.

‘Can I stay with Cordie this weekend, Papa?’ Guinevere’s pleading gaze met Drakos’s stern expression.

Elbows on the desk, he steepled his fingers as his stony gaze met mine. ‘Cordelia is going to be indisposed for the foreseeable future,’ he said. ‘Let’s see about that when she returns, my daughter. We have business to attend to, so get back to class.’

She released a frustrated sigh, and I motioned towards the door with my head. After a second, she submitted, glancing at Drakos and embracing me again.

‘Very well. Thank you, Papa.’ She gave him a small, tight bow. Then she looked at me again, her eyes soft. ‘I love you,’ she mouthed, and I nodded and touched a hand over my heart.

‘I’ll see you soon, Guinn,’ I whispered as she left the room.

Once the door snicked closed, I turned to Drakos, fury simmering beneath my skin. ‘So,’ I said, my voice steel wrapped in satin, ‘what’s the job, Father?’

Half an hour later, the job had been laid out in full. One million pounds. A happy little wiggle fluttered in my chest at the number, even if the rest of me felt like it was being dragged down into hell. I placed the vial, phone, and phone charger into my compact backpack, and laid the box at my feet. I carefully withdrew the dagger from the clear silver-edged scabbard, and unease coated my skin.

‘This looks like a weapon of the gods,’ I uttered as I studied the blade. The hilt was ornate silver with intricate designs, and a blue crystal adorned the bolster face. The double-edged blade itself was glass-clear, but inside it shimmered with strange, fire-like patterns—celestial, otherworldly; starlight trapped in ice. I slid the blade back into the scabbard and placed it in my backpack.

‘And who exactly is the target? Is he a threat to anyone? If we tangle with the gods, then…’ My mouth was dry.

The gods… Shit, they were a nightmare on steroids to be involved with. Once they had waltzed back in and seized control, some of them went full recluse again, but others? Oh, they basked in the spotlight like Kardashians on ambrosia—flashbulbs, worship, scandal (looking at you, Zeus), the whole overblown circus.

Humans lapped it up like obedient pets. Pathetic.

Hades, though, still kept his broody, underworld-CEO aesthetic—rarely seen, but he’d opened these ultra-classy nightclubs in every major city. Think velvet ropes, eternal guest lists, and cocktails that could probably resurrect the dead.

Dionysus opened exclusive wine bars, naturally. His “special reserve” was rumoured to contain a drop of nectar—liquid divinity for your Friday night bender.