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Rathbone had left an invisible knife in Neeka’s heart, and her mother just twisted it. “Lore’s going to kill us all. You get that, yes?”
“As long as you die in defeat, I’ll die happy.”
Regret for what could have been joined the monsoon inside Neeka. More hurt. Frustration. Anger. For the first time in her remembrance, however, she experienced no shame and guilt. No more accepting punishment for a youthful foible.
“Get over yourself already. I was a child. You were an adult. Why didn’tyouprotect me or your consort? Where isyourblame?”
Her mother smiled coldly. An expression made all the more terrible as raindrops streamed down her cheeks in a mimic of tears. “I won’t tell the Astra you’re here. They’d collect you and lock you up again. I’m curious to learn who you’ll go to for help, now that you’ve burned every bridge. Of course, you’ll have to make it off the island without dying in the sea first.”
23
Rathbone materialized in Hades’s throne room. Empty. On the hunt, he flashed from room to room, startling any servants at work. Though they recognized him as a frequent guest with privileges few others were granted, all shrieked and raced off. No doubt his unchecked expression exposed the viciousness of his rage.
He found his uncle in the dining room, entertaining a bevy of beauties. The cursed mirror now graced a spot above the crackling hearth. There was never a time the merciless warrior didn’t want the Goddess of Many Futures within his sights. Or her sights on him.
Without saying a word, Rathbone swung a fist, nailing the beast of a male in the mouth and knocking him out of his chair. A new chorus of shrieks. The females scrambled from the chamber.
Hades came to his feet slowly, waggling his jaw. A scarlet bead trickled from the seam of his lips. “I mean, it’s not the worst greeting you’ve ever given me.”
“Give me an outlet.” In a single day, Rathbone’s entire world had turned upside down and inside out. His oracle had betrayed him from the beginning. His dead wife might be worse than Hades predicted; she might be Jezebel the Destroyer, an ancient legend he knew through whispers. A bone remained with the Astra. Rathbone had a spoiled son who needed saving from a spoiled goddess. He couldn’t stop thinking about Neeka’s admission or the look of devastation she’d displayed before his departure from the island. Or the horrendous future she’d outlined.
She’d infiltrated every fiber of his being, becoming a part of him. Something only a fated one could do. Something not even Lore had managed. The goddess had obsessed him, but she’d never possessed him. Not like this. A detail as subtle as it was significant. But it couldn’t mean Neeka was his. His true mate would never betray him like this.
“Ah. I see.” A delighted gleam entered Hades’s dark eyes. “Happy to say outlets are my specialty.”
In a blink, the king was nothing but a tornado of black smoke whooshing Rathbone’s way. A whirlwind of chaos, solidifying with every blow. But Rathbone was fast enough to land blows of his own. His mátia caught the slightest disturbance in the atmosphere.
They fought for hours, Rathbone unwilling to stop despite a plethora of broken bones and the many internal organs scattered across the floor. He didn’t want to think beyond this battle. Didn’t wish to exchange physical pain for emotional torment.
“If you don’t start using your words as well as your claws,” Hades said, kicking him the balls, “I’m taking my toys to someone else’s sandbox.”
Rathbone meant to remain silent. He had no desire to talk. But every detail burst from him, anyway, nothing left out. When he finished, he went still. Panting, bloody hands fisted, he hung his head. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Easy. Sell the orb to the Astra, let them deal with Lore’s evil, and chain the oracle to your bed. I’ll hunt down my great-nephew.” Hades patted him on the shoulder. “You’re welcome.”
Rathbone ground his teeth. “I could be mistaken about Lore. Neeka could’ve lied to keep me to herself.”
“You aren’t. She didn’t. Why would she?”
“Jealousy?” He rubbed his knuckles into the center of his chest. “You heard the part about being her consort, yes?”
“I did, but I chose to disregard it. My team needs an oracle willing to do anything to win, not a goddess attempting to smuggle a new breed of phantoms into existence.”
Blink. “You think the creatures Neeka described are phantoms?”
“If not phantoms, demons. Lore is a goddess, and many of the Greeks reproduce on their own, the evil inside them becoming too much to contain. That’s what happened with William.”
William the Ever Randy. Hades’s adopted son, and Rathbone’s cousin. “It’s difficult for me to reconcile this idea of Lore with the goddess I wed.”
“Do it anyway,” Hades intoned.
Rathbone scrubbed a hand over his face. “I must go,” he muttered. He didn’t wait for a reply but flashed to his not-so-secret throne room, where the plastic skeleton rested upon his throne, flipping the world the bird.
“There you are.” Lore’s voice filled the chamber. She materialized, stepping from thin air, and gliding toward him, her lovely features twisted with concern. “I’ve been so worried about you, my love.”
The sight of her fueled his frustration and roused the worst of his speculations. How innocent she appeared. But was she? With every mátia riveted on her, he replied, “You don’t believe I’m capable of protecting myself?”
His silky tone emboldened her when it should have elicited frighten. As her scent reached his nostrils, his body failed to react. There was no heating. No hardening. Suddenly, reconciling what he’d experienced with what he’d learned wasn’t so difficult.
