Why?He’d have laughed if he could. He never thought he’d leave her this way, or today. He thought they’d have more time.
Bel’s face twisted. She knew why. Tears stung his eyes. If there’d been time, maybe they could’ve produced magic together again. But the snake came lightning fast, and he hadn’t had a blade. He’d dropped his sword to pick up Bel and run her toward the altar. She’d been the only thing he wanted in his hands.
The intense, burning pain started to fade, numbness sliding into its place. His voice weak, rasping, he whispered, “I love you.”
Her chin trembled. “Carver…” Tears spilled from her eyes. She didn’t try to hide them or burn them away. They flowed. “Don’t leave me. We’re not supposed to do this alone.”
His arm like lead, he reached up and touched her cheek. He barely felt the contact before his hand fell, too heavy to hold up. “Look for me in the Underworld.”
She paled even more, then her head snapped up. “Dex!” she screamed across the square, her yell mixing with Hera’s snarling and the droning buzz of the lightning cage. “Dex!” Bel looked at him again, frantically squeezing his hand. “He’ll come with the shard. He’ll heal you.”
Carver shook his head—or thought he did. “No time. And he’ll never hear you.” His words slowed, his mouth as heavy as the rest of him. “He’s deep…inside the temple. The Underworld… Bel. I’ll wait for you there.”
His heart shattered into a million specks of sand, everything he’d envisioned for them bombarding it at once. He’d wait for her, but it wouldn’t be the same. Her tears fell on his face, watering his heartbreak. His throat thick, his chest aching, he mourned the life they’d barely begun. He wasn’t ready for the afterlife. No blue skies, no sea breeze or salt air. No chance for children. Grief flooded him, his too-slow pulse pumping it through his veins.
Letting go of his hand, Bel lurched to her feet. “Zeus!” Carver turned his head to see the god watching them while Hera worked to shred the prison her husband had slammed down around her and her rage. Zeus ignored her progress, his focus on them. “You owe me!” Bel yelled. “I did all this foryou. I left my home. I fought Hera. I lost my sister.Twosisters! Foryou!” Anger and fear made her burn again, her unsteady flames brightening the dimness clouding his eyes.
Carver smiled weakly. He’d always loved her burning hair. So red, so hot, so wild—just like Bel.
“Heal him!” she cried. “Heal him or I swear to all the gods thataren’tyou that this island will forsake you, too.”
“Mortals don’t make demands of gods.” Zeus darted a look at Hera, the bright orbs of his eyes pinching as he took in her severely tattered cage. He repaired the damage, and Hera snarled in frustration, doubling her efforts to claw through the lightning bars. With one eye still on his wife, Zeus said, “Threats are even worse. I could end you right here.”
“You could, but you won’t,” Bel shot back. “Because you’ve demanded of me, and Ianswered. I did everything you asked. Now, I askonething of you. Heal him.”
Zeus examined them both, his lightning-bright eyes too penetrating to look at straight on. Carver swallowed painfully. The gods did as they pleased—and what served them—and he and Bel had already given Zeus everything he needed from them.
“Olympians are safer without living soulmates joined in one place. Especially when one’s a Magoi of your strength.” Zeus’s words tolled a death knell in his ears, and Carver exhaled the last of his hope, probably one of his last breaths, as Bel let out a stifled moan and dropped beside him again, new tears bursting in her eyes. “But I agree that you’ve served me well. Apollo!” Zeus called out loudly, his voice booming across worlds.
Bel sucked in a breath, and somewhere deep inside Carver’s failing consciousness and body, hope surged. He turned his head as what had to be the most stunning being in existence suddenly walked out of thin air in a golden ring of light.
“Father.” Zeus’s son and the god of healing dipped his blond-curled head in respect. “Hera.” His flawless brows rose.
“Here!” Bel called hoarsely. “Here! Please!”
Apollo looked over, and Carver’s heart stopped before another poisoned beat thudded hard. The magnificence. The allure. He barely breathed, the air he took in too shallow to nourish his lungs. Swallowing, he tore his gaze from the intensityof Apollo and turned back to Bel. Apollo might be beauty incarnate, music and poetry in physical form, but it was Bel who he wanted to behold.
The god of healing approached and squatted beside him, inspecting the wound. His clear blue eyes narrowed as he laid strong, warm fingers on Carver’s neck and gently squeezed out a pearl of venom. He held the blood-tinged drop of poison up to the sunlight on his fingertip, turning it back and forth and watching it roll.
“The Olympian viper.” His sculpted lips pulled into a frown. “Hera’s specialty. These vipers almost did away with Heracles, too.”
“Can you help him?” Bel’s voice quavered, and she rolled her lips in, pressing hard to hold back tears.
Apollo scooped Carver up as if he weighed nothing and placed him on the altar. Carver barely felt the god’s arms or the movement as he went from the ground to the tabletop. His vision darkened even more, and he sought Bel’s gaze. She would be his light, whether he made it through this darkness or not. Their eyes met, and hers turned hard.
“No. Youfight,” she growled. “Fight for your life, or I’ll kill you myself.”
Did he smile? He might’ve. He loved her so.
“You’d better dredge up some magic and cover us while I try to heal him, Firebringer.” Apollo shot a warning look at Bel. “Because this is going to take some time, and I know my father. He’s about to give Hera the battle she’s been asking for.”
Bel’s nostrils flared. Nodding stiffly, she moved to stand in front of them, a barrier between Zeus and Hera and the people at the altar, both above and below.
Beyond Bel, Hera took a vicious swipe at what was left of her cage and sprang free with a yell. Zeus whirled, thunderrumbling from him. Apollo moved toward Carver’s head, blocking his view as the healer god lifted glowing hands. “This venom is some of the worst poison from the ancient worlds.” His golden brows drawing together, he warned, “Brace yourself.”
Carver tensed, and not only because of Apollo’s frightening warning. Terror gripped him. His throat was closing over. He couldn’t swallow. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. Hera’s vicious battle cry was the last thing he heard before Apollo placed his hands on his skin and utter agony tore through him.
Chapter 35
