“This is the worst possible time. We’re about to be invaded,” I said.
Zalira folded her arms. “Or it’s the best possible time. I think we’re going to need that sword.”
Io looked crestfallen.
I put my hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“Although I knew we would find it, part of me didn’t want to locate the greatest weapon. Because the prophecy can’t come true without it.”
My heart lurched sideways. She was right. If we stayed put and didn’t look for the sword, then I couldn’t wield it.
Which meant the rest of the prophecy might not happen.
But Artemisia was coming. I needed to be able to stop her. And the greatest weapon might be the only way that I could do so.
My sisters all looked so sad, but this was not the time to wallow. “What should we do next?” I asked.
Io pulled out a piece of papyrus so that we could start making lists of what we would need for this trip.
And I worried about how I was going to convince my husband to let us go.
I lay on the ground in an unfamiliar place. I was trying to catch my breath, but the wind had been knocked out of me. My entire body ached.
Artemisia strode toward me, carrying a war hammer that was bigger than her head.
My fury aspect was quickly fading and I struggled to keep my eyes open. I was going to pass out. I tried to turn it off but it didn’t work. Something was interfering with my magic.
My heart beat faster the closer Artemisia got to me. I felt my sword in my hand but I was too weak to lift it. What was happening?
“Now you die, Locrian.”
She raised her hammer over her head and brought it down at me.
I gasped loudly as I sat straight up in my bed. I felt disoriented—how had I gotten here? The last thing I remembered was being in Io’s room making plans.
Xander’s side of the bed was still warm. My heart caught at the idea of him finding me asleep in his sister’s room and bringing me back here. Holding me while I slept.
Had I given myself a nightmare? It hadn’t felt like one. Instead it had felt like a vision of the future.
A dark harbinger of things to come.
This had been different. It had felt so real. Like this was fated. It was going to happen.
I would die.
My heart pounded in my chest, and I tried to swallow down the silvery taste of fear in my mouth. If Artemisia killed me, Xander would also die. I couldn’t let that happen.
Io thought she was close with her formulation to separate our connection but it hadn’t been successful yet.
There was only one other way to break the link.
If my fate was to die, I wouldn’t be able to save Locris. I would need one of my sisters to do it.
I wouldn’t let Xander share my fate. I refused. Ilion desperately needed him. He didn’t have an heir. If he died, the council would have no other recourse but to select Kyros as king, which would make Erisa his regent.
The prophecy said that my death would save Ilion. Xander was the answer. He would defeat Caria. He would protect both Ilion and Locris. The goddess had blessed him with supernatural strength and fighting skill for a reason. He was necessary for this war.
I was not.
