“Is easybetter?” he snapped.
Dex’s brows shot up. “No, it’s just…easier.”
“And boring.” Carver chewed up and swallowed anything else he might want to say. Anger always bubbled too close to the surface, and getting into a fight with one of his only friends over what felt like an insult to his fake wife seemed like something he should avoid, especially in the throne room.
“Something else, then?” Dex either ignored or didn’t notice how Carver had locked down every muscle, his jaw tight and hard.
Carver corralled his irritation and used the opportunity of Dex questioning him to take the conversation in another direction. Now that the key had a name, they might as well use it. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just thinking about something someone said. Have you ever heard of the Shard of Olympus?”
Dex’s brow wrinkled. He shook his head. “It sounds like a weapon.”
“Maybe,” Carver said as offhandedly as he could. “I don’t know.”
“We could ask Silas,” the other man suggested. “He’s been around a lot longer than either of us.”
Carver grunted a laugh. They liked to tease Silas about his fifty-odd years, but the truth was, the man was as strong as a bull and as fit as either of them. He hesitated, torn between wanting to protect Silas from any traitorous behavior and needing to take advantage of whatever knowledge he might have. “Maybe later. Let’s leave it for now.”
Dex shot him a curious look. “CanIask about it? I mean this in the best possible way, but you and your wife are the strangest people. You’re always being mysterious, disappearing on your days off, or saying odd things out of the blue and then droppingthem just as fast.”
Wife.That relentless zap coursed through Carver’s veins again. “It’s probably nothing. I heard an old crone outside the Temple of Zeus muttering something about the Shard of Olympus and Punishment.” Lying to his friend didn’t sit well with him. He only had two—besides Bel. He couldn’t exactly tell Dex the truth, though, so he added, “I’m sure it was nonsense. She didn’t seem in her right mind.”
Dex glanced toward Cleito as they passed a large, open window and walked through a splash of sunlight, their long shadows falling into the room. A frown pulled at his mouth again. “Maybe she’s another seer?”
“Let’s not tell Eryx about her, then,” Carver said with utter sincerity. The last thing anyone on this island needed was the magic-obsessed king on a witch hunt for an imaginary old crone.
Dex hmphed. His gaze strayed back to Cleito, darkening.
They walked in silence as their patrol around the room brought them closer to the dais. Carver was careful not to stare at Cleito, but Eryx still caught his eye as they approached. Carver was relatively new to the castle’s soldiers, which was likely what snagged Eryx’s attention. Eryx knew most of his guards by name, which Carver would’ve found admirable in a king if he didn’t know for a fact it was only to better leverage the soldiers’ families against them—the women of their households, in particular. He’d have been terrified to be in Eryx’s sights if Bel wasn’t such a force to be reckoned with.
A chill still snaked down his spine as the king pointedly watched him, holding his gaze with cold, hard eyes that veered toward Magoi green. It was Eryx’s potential for water magic that worried Carver. Without it, Bel would wipe the floor with this man.With it, Eryx might have more of a chance than they wanted to admit.
Carver broke eye contact. It was his job to be the servant here, and he did his best to seem nonthreatening when he wanted to pounce at the man, blades bared. Eryx’s Magoi eyes still haunted him. The clearest, brightest green gaze he’d ever seen was Cat’s—his brother Griffin’s wife and the gods-chosen queen of Thalyria. Bel’s eyes were more of an aquamarine, the green shining through the blue when her magic sizzled to life. Eryx’s were a darker forest green, but Carver would bet they could spark magic-bright if Punishment ended.
His sword hand tingled. Gods, he wished he could kill the man and be done with it.
Eryx suddenly snapped to draw Carver’s attention again. He beckoned with one finger, and Carver’s heart gave a hard thump against his ribs.
The king called, and he had no choice but to answer even though every muscle in his body resisted giving in to the man’s demand. He forced an easy smile. “Your Highness?” Carver moved closer. Dex stayed where he was.
“You’re new.” Eryx’s statement didn’t seem to invite a response, but Carver knew better than to ignore him.
He nodded. “It’s been six full moons since I joined the guard.”
“You’re too old to be straight from the new entries.” The king cocked his head. “Have I seen you in the training yard?”
At twenty-eight, Carver had never thought to consider himself old. But it was true that he was well beyond the age when Atlantians went from their minimal schooling to whatever vocation they’d have. “It’s likely, Your Highness.” Though he was always careful to hold back and hide his true skill with a sword. “I moved to Atlantapol from the southwest not long ago.”
Eryx’s miniscule smile dripped with contempt. “The farming life wasn’t for you?”
“I had a taste for soldiering, Your Highness.”
“And your wife?”
Carver paused, his pulse moving faster than anything else in the room. He wore a ring, just like Bel. It was part of the game. “Had a taste for the city life. So here we are.”
“Ah. What men will do for their wives.” Eryx’s cruel smile told Carver that the king himself wasn’t included in those men. Luckily, Eryx didn’t have a wife.
Carver simply inclined his head.
