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A blink and a half later, Azar appeared. Their gazes clashed, and he narrowed his eyes.
Rathbone jumped to his feet while scooping Neeka into his arms.
“She was bitten.” The Astra withdrew a dagger. “She dies first.”
“Touch her, and I’ll make you watch Nova burn.” Rathbone teleported Neeka to her bedroom. He laid her upon the comforter, saying, “The Astra won’t interrupt your healing. Before we left, I fortified the palace defenses.”
“Good for you,” she muttered, panting as a wave of pain swept in. She so didn’t want him to see her like this. “Now, get out of my room. You’ve done enough damage for one day.”
13
Rathbone remained beside the oracle’s bed, guilt a barb in his conscience, slicing into inner wounds he hadn’t known he still possessed. They’d been buried too deep. Until now.
You’ve done enough damage.Words his mother had spewed anytime she’d deigned to visit him. She’d also spouted classics like “you ruin everything” and “why can’t you do anything right?”
As a youth, he’d shriveled inside, longing to earn her approval. Not once had he succeeded. Always she’d found fault with his efforts. In turn, he’d lashed out at the servants responsible for his upkeep and quickly became a spoiled terror. Until Hades, Rathbone hadn’t received a single word of encouragement or praise from another living soul.
He rubbed his knuckles between his pectorals. With his uncle’s help, he’d come to understand the problem had been with Hera, not himself. But Rathbone couldn’t blame his mother for his current situation. He alone had hurt Neeka. And he’d hurt her far worse than the zombider. That, he saw so clearly.
He shouldn’t care. She was an employee, nothing more. But he cared.
Blood coated her shirt near where she’d been bitten and stabbed. White crust surrounded the punctures, the centers raw and oozing. Her usually vibrant skin dulled. Red rimmed her irises, and blue tinged her lips. Agony etched each lovely feature.
When he’d chosen to save the bone rather than Neeka, he’d been in the heat of battle, acting on old instincts. He might have, perhaps, possibly made a grave error that would haunt him for eternity. Hearing the oracle scream...seeing her writhe in anguish...watching her realize he’d jeopardized her life when he’d had the power to save it...
Rathbone hung his head, an invisible dagger twisting mercilessly in his chest. “What can I do to help you?” he croaked.
“You can leave,” she snapped. “I’m not sure how many other ways I can convey the message. Exit. Vanish. Flash onto a pole.”
The barb cut ever-deeper. “Forgive me, and I’ll double your payday.” He would give her anything she desired.
“I don’t want double. Now, take your balls and go play with someone else. I won’t buy you new ones if I’m forced to break the tiny pair you’ve got.”
He blinked. The one who’d gone toe to toe with the Astra Planeta to score a payday now despised Rathbone so much, she turned down double?
“I’ll fetch a healer,” he rushed out, an old, familiar desperation taking hold. He didn’t wait for her response but flashed to Hades’s palace.
The sovereign wasn’t in the throne room. Or the war room. Or the barracks. Or his bedroom.
A splash sounded from the bathroom.
Rathbone flashed inside. Hades lounged in the bathtub with a nymph on each arm. The trio hadn’t gotten to the main event, but they were gearing up for it. A huge ornate mirror hung directly over them, reflecting even the smallest undulation.Themirror. Hades’s greatest treasure. A cursed goddess resided behind the glass.
Hades, being Hades, perceived Rathbone’s presence and opened one eye, pausing to say, “You stink, and I’m busy.”
The females began to gag. “Are those...intestines dangling from your ear?”
They ran from the bath, water sloshing over the rim.
“The oracle requires a healer experienced with zombider bites,” he told the male. “Your very best.”
Hades arched a brow at him. “That’s a tall order. One you’ll have to pay for. The usual fee will do.”
“Yes, yes. A Spy On the Enemy coupon, to be redeemed at an interval of your choosing.” He pushed the words past clenched teeth. Rathbone might be family, but that didn’t mean he received a discount.
“I’ll have the good doc sent to your front door in—”
“Now,” he interjected.
