What frustrated him the most was that Hera knew that. When she offered him the position of Guardian at the Gate, he was open about his choice to flee the expectations of Paragon.
“I am aware of the politics of your society.” She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, clearly piqued. “What has this to do with me, dragon?”
“I am only explaining why I cannot be of help to you if the book is truly in Ouros.”
She scoffed. “Relax, Tavyss. I wouldn’t dream of forcing you to reclaim your birthright and challenge your brother for the throne.” She stalked toward him. “I need you here.” She stepped close to him, too close, and trailed her nails over his cheek. “All I expect of you is to journey to Paragon and ask your brother or sister for assistance. Surely it will be worth it to them to search for the book in exchange for your leaving Paragon promptly.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched over clenched teeth. He’d already made it clear to her that the moment his feet touched Paragonian soil, his life would be at risk. She’d refused to listen, which meant her will was nonnegotiable. Any resistance could end up angering the goddess. Tavyss was a warrior, but he was no match for Hera. “If it pleases you, I can deliver this message and make the request, although I will not be able to search for the book myself without raising their ire and suspicion.”
She pressed her lips against his cheek, close to his mouth. His skin crawled with the tingling heat she left there. Her scent was too sweet, almost cloying. It was all he could do to disguise his disgust.
“It pleases me,” she purred.
“Then I will go.” He broke away from her and crossed to the door. “Give me a few days’ time to make a plan for securing a formal audience with my siblings.”
“Very well, dragon,” she said, drumming her fingers on her upper arm. “I’m counting on you.”
Chapter Five
“Medea!”
Medea jerked as the water she was pouring into Isis’s jug overflowed the spout and ran onto her sister’s fingers. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
Isis shook the excess water off and gave her a quizzical look. “What has gotten into you today?”
“What? Nothing. I’m fine.” No way could Medea explain to Isis that her brain kept dwelling on a set of gold eyes and black wings. Tavyss was a delicious secret, a dark dream that brought a few moments of heart-pounding excitement into her day.
“Isis is right,” Circe declared. “You’ve been distracted all morning. Father asked you what you wanted for breakfast and you said yes.”
Isis giggled. “It wasn’t a yes or no question, Medea.”
With a shrug, Medea said, “Tired, I guess.”
“You’d better get your head on straight before we practice our magic. You’ll end up setting something on fire.” Isis flashed a dark smile.
Her sister was right, she did need to clear her head. Medea always read the spells, Isis performed any work with symbols or stones, and Circe worked with plants, roots, and potions. They each had their role, and if one of them was distracted, their spell fell apart.
The only problem was that Medea seemed to have no control over her fleeting thoughts. She hadn’t stopped thinking about Tavyss since the last time they’d met beside the waterfall. He’d thoroughly captivated and charmed her.
She longed to tell her sisters about him but hesitated. Circe and Isis were her only friends, and they’d always shared everything, but if she told them about Tavyss, would they worry about the repercussions? She’d been the one to convince them to do the spell in the marigold field. If they found out that the Guardian at the Gate had been watching them, a dragon who’d suddenly taken interest in who they were and had the power to reveal their existence to Hera, would they ever trust her again? Could they possibly fathom what he’d come to mean to her these past weeks?
“Are you coming? The faster we get this water back to the house, the sooner we can practice!” Circe strode down the path toward the cottage, looking utterly frustrated.
Medea stood slowly from the pool and sidled up to Isis, who was waiting for her, a dark glint in her eye.
“Now you must tell me the truth. What is so distracting, sister?”
“I didn’t sleep well last night,” Medea murmured.
“This is more than lack of sleep.” Isis raised an eyebrow.
After a moment’s hesitation, Medea asked, “Have you ever wondered about men?”
“Men?” Isis frowned. “Like the human men from our books?”
“Men like father but our age,” Medea said. “Men who might want to be with us like Father is with Mother.”
“There are no men in the garden,” Isis said flatly. “Unless you have taken a liking to one of the male nymphs, but their bodies are strange, Medea. I don’t think they’d be physically compatible—”
