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The memory of Andros whipped and beaten while shackled in chains burned behind her irises. She sympathized with the Thessalians, but she also knew they were wrong to treat these noble centaurs like mindless, pride-less animals.
She seethed with anger at the mere thought of those soldiers using their whips and ropes onhercentaurs.
“You have clearly bespelled our innocent daughters,” a different Archon spoke up, stepping forth.
“Why would they ever choose to consort with untamed beasts? You have done something to them. Forced them to your ways against their will!”
The murmurs amongst the Archons grew, and the soldiers that surrounded them shifted with restlessness, hungry for battle.
Divina could smell the bloodlust. Her hands tightened in Andros’ hair.
She must do something. She could help. If only there weren’t so many.
Her powers of persuasion were limited in human form. As it was, she was most effective when she could touch people. But she couldn’t very well touch the hundreds of soldiers and the dozen or so Archons present all in one go.
As she frantically searched for solutions in her mind, Andros spoke:
“No one is here against their will, leaders of men,” he uttered in his deep, smooth baritone, his words easily carrying and capturing everyone’s attention despite the low tones.
“You have only to ask these maidens to know. My centaurs will care for them, shelter and protect them in the mountains, where we make our home. They will want for nothing. For, as you well know, we possess the Horn.”
It was a not-so-subtle reminder for the Archons that the centaurs had leverage. Divina didn’t know why she was impressed, but she was. She should know by now that everything about Andros was impressive. Why not his innate leadership too?
Her hands uncurled slightly from his mane.
He’s got this, she told herself.
Her big, beautiful stallion prince had it under control.
“And who might you be?” A third Archon asked with belligerence. “Ixion rules the mountains. I know what he looks like, the hairy, ugly lout. You are…clearly not him.”
Andros already stood tall, shoulders back, but Divina could feel him straightening his spine even further, drawing to his full, imposing height.
“I am Andros, son of Apollo, bloodline of Centaurus. These aremymen. The chosen Mates for these females. You deal with me now. I advise you to consider your words carefully before you speak.”
One of the Archons snarled with derision.
“What is this, a jest? No one can defeat Ixion in combat; it has been proven for centuries. He is the son of Ares, god of war. He would never fall to a-a-”
The man struggled to find the most appropriate insult and finally spat, “A pretty pony like you. He—”
“Silence.”
The word was thrown down like a gauntlet, albeit quietly. But it was far more potent for its menacing softness.
Divina felt the tension within Andros’ muscles, felt every inch of him harden to steel.
Oh, these humans were in so much trouble. She was honestly a bit afraid on their behalf. No one pissed off a demi-god centaur prince. It just wasn’t smart.
The lead Archon smirked mirthlessly, his black eyes flat and unyielding.
“Then, prove your might,pony,” he hissed low and inclined his head slightly.
That was apparently the signal to unleash a concerted attack by the soldiers closest to Andros and Chiron.
Before she knew what had happened, Divina was thrown off of Andros’ back as he reared up. She landed directly into Chiron’s awaiting arms.
The general put her down and shoved her behind him as the other centaurs crowded around them, boxing her in their protective circle.
