Of course she did. She always would.
She started to run to him?—
Roman stepped between them. Not the Roman she knewnow, but older, colder. He blocked her view with a final glance over his shoulder. “His lies have hurt us long enough. Leave him to his fate.”
The memory snapped shut like a door slammed in her mind.
Selene sank back a step, her heart fluttering like butterflies in a jar—beautiful, frantic, doomed.
She wasn’t safe here.
She never was.
Aspasia frowned at Roman, then shook her head. “I’m sorry, but we have no choice. There’s only one thing to be done.”
His fingers were curling into his hands. “Yes. We protect her. We remind her of what’s at stake.”
Aspasia yanked a blade from her belt.
Selene drew hers in response and fell into her fighting stance.
Roman put his body between, hands up. His voice came low and rumbling. “Mother, I won’t let you do this.”
“We put her body in Okos, where he can find her. Dead women can’t speak of things they shouldn’t, and this buys us time to prepare.”
“No.” The single word landed like a hammer to an anvil. “You’re not going to kill my mate.”
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
Aclatter of barrels and crates rolled across the dock boards, coming after Augustus with a fury.
“Move it!” the sailor shouted.
Augustus jumped clear just in time.
Little Gus growled after the man, and his long tail whipped down the length of Augustus’s spine. Tiny sparks of flame shot from his nose.
Augustus patted the dronsian’s head. “Relax, will you? I don’t want to go get my head lobbed off because you’ve got indigestion.”
The Okosian docks teemed with traders, merchants… and a few extra pirates. In this fortress city, pirates were allowed to roam—but keeping your head attached required respect and sharp instincts. Augustus had never seen a more commanding military presence. Peace in these lands came at the cost of lives.
Okos sprawled across the coastline, protected by towering walls so high they nearly blocked the sun. The bustling, wide streets were paved with smooth stones, and the limestone buildings were so clean that their surfaces gleamed in the daylight.
Augustus paused beneath one of the city’s many watchtowers and stared skyward toward its peak. “If we’re going to burn anything down—and I’m not giving you permission—it’d be those bastards.”
Gus whined and nudged Augustus’s cheek.
Eight days ago, the guards in those towers watched Thorne murder people who were as good as family—and had done nothing.
The tales and parodies were played out in every tavern last night to raucous laughter—the Triarius Fleet was finally coming down a peg.
Augustus couldn’t stomach it and spent the night on the ship.
His reasonable side understood Okos’s decision to stand back—the battle happened outside their boundaries in open water. That didn’t make Augustus any less furious. The Okosian Navy would have saved a hundred and seven lives, and maybe he’d be having a pint with his father right now instead of hunting down the godsdamned Rangers.
Gus squawked from his shoulder and gave a whole-body shiver. In addition to burping sparks, he had been restless since they anchored.
