“Not bad, not bad,” the Bringer of Spring comments, briefly studying one of the oil paintings displayed against the elegant wallpaper. “I have to say, Boreas, Eurus’ place isfarnicer than yours.”
“Shut up,” snarls the North Wind.
Where would they have taken Eurus? Unfortunately, I never had the opportunity to explore the manor in her entirety. Might there be a dungeon below? What of barred cells?
“Eurus!” I scream, and the cry falls into an echo, carrying my fear down the shadowed passageway.
How soon would Lady Clarisse kill Eurus? Without his god-touched ax, she would not be able to end his life, but what sort of atrocities does Prince Balior hold up his sleeve?
As we pass by a sitting room, I spot a plate of food resting on a side table, the meal having gone cold.
I gasp.The manor!
“Can you lead us to Eurus?” I ask the enchanted building.
At the end of the hall, a lamp flares to life.
“This way!” I call.
The Anemoi and I race toward it, barging through the double doors at the end of the hall and emerging into pouring rain. A small paved area gives way to a long, grassy strip that veers off the edge of a cliff.
In the distance, the East Wind kneels, bound by shadow, Prince Balior and Lady Clarisse crowding his back.
Boreas sprints toward them, spear held aloft. Without bothering to turn around, the prince lifts a hand, and a tendril of darkness twines around the North Wind’s legs. He hits the ground, the spear tossed from his grip. Zephyrus and Notus approach warily, their own weapons at the ready.
Slowly, Prince Balior turns. Lady Clarisse glances our way as well, but after a murmured word from the prince, she returns her attention to Eurus, shadow gradually eating him from the waist up. It appears to be keeping him immobile. But—alive. He is alive.
“Notus. A pleasure.” Prince Balior regards the other siblings calmly. “And you’ve brought reinforcements. Let me guess.” He points. “Boreas, right? And you must be Zephyrus, the annoying one.” He smiles at the West Wind, whose expression has shuttered behind a chilling rage. “So glad you could be here to witness your brother’s demise.”
Notus steps forward. Though he and Prince Balior share a similar manner of dress, the South Wind’s robe is soaked with water, caked in dirt. The prince is immaculate in comparison.
“Why are you doing this?” Notus demands. “Eurus has no quarrel with you. The beast is dead because the Council of Gods willed it.”
The prince brushes a damp lock of hair from his forehead, where the skin has folded in perplexity. “I believed as much when it did not return from the City of Gods, but I am glad to hear my suspicions confirmed.”
Beyond the prince’s shoulder, shadow continues to consume the East Wind. His eyes are closed, his face slack. It has now enveloped his chest and reaches skinny tendrils toward his mouth.
Zephyrus must notice as well, for he has begun to inch his way toward Eurus. The North Wind sidles toward the opposite edge of the grassy strip, as though the brothers intend to surround Prince Balior.
“You see,” the prince goes on, “a few days ago, something unexpected occurred: I experienced a new wave of strength. When the beast was slaughtered, its power came to me, and would you believe that I now possess the might of an immortal, like you?” His eyes crinkle. “Oh, that’s right. You’re no longer immortal, are you? I imagine Sarai is happy about that.” His smile falls. “Then again, she was promised tome.”
Notus clutches his sword so tightly I am convinced he will splinter the hilt. “Tell me you’re not still angry that she broke your engagement.”
“Angry? No. But I have my pride.” He looks the South Wind up and down. “Had you not entered the picture, I would have had my powerandyour wife.”
“Watch it,” Notus growls.
Prince Balior glances at his nails. “I suppose I will settle for power. It may not warm my bed, but at least it can’t betray me.” He lowers his hand, which is now swathed in spiraling bands of gray, and advances a step.
Notus bares his teeth. “I would have done anything to keep Sarai away from you. Do you really think killing Eurus will aid your endeavor? The divine will not rest until you are dead.”
He lifts his sword, extends the point outward, level with the prince’s throat. The wind ratchets to a high keen, whipping the robe around his legs. “Stand down.”
“The beast wanted Eurus dead for imprisoning him in that labyrinth,” the prince replies. “I owe it to the poor creature to see its last wish carried out. I would not be where I am today without it.” He extends a shadowed hand. “But you have a choice, too, Notus. Leave now, and I will spare your life, and the lives of your brothers.”
“It’s four against one,” Notus says to the prince. “I will not tell you again. Stand down.”
His adversary smiles. “I’m not going anywhere.”
