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“You have truly done your master proud today. Aithouros once promised me I would swell the ranks of his sacrifices to Anthros upon the Akron’s Altar.”
Chrysanthos launched no defiant retort this time. But of course the bloodless war mage had to have the last word. He raised his hands, even as the Stand reinforced their ward. Inside their umbrous shield, golden light flashed, harsh and blinding. The smell of smoke roused a primal fear in Lio. When he could see again, he beheld Chrysanthos’s closing remarks.
On the stone at the mage’s feet, vandalizing a petal of the Firstblood Rose, a glyph of Anthros burned.
“How dare you!” Xandra cried.
She appeared before Chrysanthos, right inside the ward, standing at the edge of his glyph. With the rest of the crowd, Lio came to his feet, not daring to make any further move.
Chrysanthos gave her a sardonic smile. “Have you come to challenge me to a mage duel, Princess? Shall we really test how well your education holds up against mine?”
“I have come to cleanse my temple of you. How dare you defile the Circle in the presence of our Queens?”
The floor beneath her sizzled, and crimson light traced the lines of the war god’s glyph. Her fire ate Chrysanthos’s and burned away his spell, leaving a gleaming red glyph of Hespera in its place. The mage’s mocking smile twisted with rage.
Konstantina looked at her youngest sister with admiration in her aura. “Chrysanthos, Dexion of the Aithourian Circle, our Queens have rejected your terms. May the Goddess’s Eyes watch the gates of your prison.”
HYPNOS’S BRINK
The courtyard of theNew Guest House was deserted like a battlefield in a stalemate. Lio’s ears brought him many sounds from within the mortal’s lodgings, where they hid in the wake of the mage’s successful takeover of their embassy. Heated arguments, fearful murmurs, and the silence of despair echoed through the halls. Lio’s nose brought him the various stenches of apathy, desperation, and grief—all smelled like the alcohol in which the men now drowned their consciences or their sorrows.
Chrysanthos’s quarters smelled like undisguised war magic. The Dexion’s new rooms were now lurid with Aithourian battle wards. Was he daring the Hesperines to retaliate against his ultimatum?
“Challenge accepted,” Lio murmured.
Lio sensed Mak and Lyros approaching via the gallery from Rose House. Their patrol was bringing them his way. He was curious to know if his veil could get him past them. How would a concealment he had learned from Uncle Argyros measure against Aunt Lyta’s training? How would a ruse of Lio’s measure against the insight of his Trial brothers? He could not afford to take chances. This was one of those occasions when it was better to carry his secrets in plain sight.
He dropped his veil and approached his Trial brothers as they paused at the gallery’s exit. Instead of standing at attention on either side of the archway, they kept watch with an arm around each other.
“Lio,” Lyros said. “Are you all right?”
“No. Are any of us?”
Mak shook his head. “He didn’t tell us the names of the other prisoners.”
“Nike can’t be one of them.” Lyros sounded like he was repeating a line of reasoning he and his Grace had already worn out. “Chrysanthos would have bragged about having one of the Blood Errant in custody.”
“Unless she’s kept her identity a secret for that very reason.” Mak lifted his gaze to the heavens.
Lio tried to shift the weight of his guilt into a better position, so he could find the strength to keep carrying it. “Mak…”
“Don’t apologize,” Mak threatened. “You may have proposed the Summit, but that does not make the hostages’ plight your fault.”
“You’re right. Wringing my hands, as Chrysanthos instructed, would be a waste of time. I was only going to say this isn’t over yet. The Queens are convening a circle tonight to determine our course of action. I’m on my way there now.”
None of Mak’s emotion abated. “We got word. The envoys, the Charge, and the diplomatic service are all to mobilize. The Stand is to stand here.”
Lyros rubbed Mak’s back. “That is our purview. We protect our home. The hostages are in the capable hands of those who operate Abroad.”
“Our family is always the Stand’s purview,” Mak returned.
“The life of every Hesperine is the Queens’ purview,” Lio said. “The hostages are in their hands.”
At last a bit of reassurance appeared in Mak’s aura, turbulent though it remained, and he said no more.
“Isn’t Cassia going to the circle with you?” Lyros asked.
“The circle is starting before she can get away from the Tenebrans,” Lio lied. “I’ll go on ahead for now, so at least one of us isn’t absent, then come back later to pick her up. Could you keep an eye out for her? If she comes out before I’ve returned, tell her I’m on my way.”
