Chapter 25
“We need to move faster,” Bellanca murmured. A sixth sense had been screamingDangerfor the last hour. Dusk approached, reaching long shadow fingers through the trees, and they hadn’t crossed the border back to human-occupied Atlantis yet. And even after the tacit border, true civilization wasn’t anywhere close by. Nothing actuallystoppedmagical creatures from pursuing them across the dividing meadow and river. She and Carver had broken the implicit pact between humans and creatures by going north. What was to stop a bloodthirsty herd of centaurs from breaking it by going south? They were still a long way from Atlantapol.
“As long as we make it before dark,” Carver rasped, his voice still hoarse from seawater and coughing. The fits had lessened in the last hour, but the earlier ones had left his voice shredded and given her a good idea of what had truly happened out there, even if he’d refused to elaborate. He hadn’t just swallowed some water. He’d drowned in it.
An awful lurch wrenched her chest. She slowly exhaled the tension. “If it gets dark, I’ll light the way with fire.”
The shadows weren’t so deep that she couldn’t see Carver’s dubiously cocked eyebrow. “And draw attention to us?”
She snorted. “If something’s out there, it already heard us.” Between Carver’s occasional hacking, the horses’ steps, and their—even quiet—conversation, it was a given they hadn’t goneunnoticed.
Arete’s skin twitched, confirming the warning prickle that crawled up Bellanca’s spine on little legs of magic.
“We’re almost to the meadow.” Carver nodded ahead. “I think the trees are thinning.”
She sat up straighter, peering forward. It might’ve been slightly brighter up ahead, but it was hard to tell with the light fading anyway. The moment the rugged trail through the woods would finally give way to a sloped clearing with a wide but shallow river running across the bottom of it, they’d hopefully be safe from magical creatures, and especially from those centaurs whose continued absence somehow worried her more than an actual confrontation would.
“How many centaurs were in that herd? Thirty? Forty?” The beasts had stopped chasing them when they’d stepped into the river. She could only hope they’d do the same this time if they showed up right near the border again.
“Something like that,” Carver answered hoarsely.
She glanced around. Not even a cicada droned. It was highly suspicious. “Well, the border can’t come soon enough.”
Carver’s quick flash of teeth in her peripheral vision proved he heard her barely uttered complaint. “We agree on more and more these days.”
She scowled. “Let’s not make a habit of it.”
His faint chuckle ended in a stifled cough. He cleared his throat, then drank from his water. Bellanca touched the amulet under her tunic. The eerie, blue-white glow crossed the lightweight linen, brighter than ever as the woods darkened. She wouldn’t mind passing unnoticed for once, but the Shard of Olympus made that next to impossible.
She pulled an extra fold of material over the medallion, dimming it. “What should we do with Arete and Zeph once we get close to Atlantapol? Only the richest of the rich and Eryxhave horses. They’ll draw attention.”
Carver cocked his head at her, his brow creasing. “Don’t we want attention?”
“You mean now?” She looked at him in surprise. “Do itnow?”
“If by ‘it’ you mean our Power Bid for Atlantis…” He nodded. “We have all the elements.”
Her magic jumped at the idea of the Power Bid, and the Shard of Olympus grabbed on to the hard thump, tripling it. The woods momentarily brightened, this time because of her. With effort, she brought everything back to a low simmer. “But do I even know how to ignite magic? Persephone never said anything.” Learning the shard’s behavior a little more each time her magic stirred wasn’t a guarantee she could do whatever she wanted with it. And even more worrisome, it might be too powerful to control.
“The gods rarely provide instruction manuals.”
She sighed. “If only they’d be so smart. The things they want would happen a lot faster and more easily that way.”
Carver shrugged a little too fatalistically for her taste. Then his gaze snagged hers from across the path. “How about we concentrate on whatwe’reafter for once?”
She frowned, not sure she understood. “You mean the throne?”
A wry smile curved his lips. “I meant peace and happiness. But the throne, too, for that matter.”
“Peace and happiness.” Slowly, she nodded. Every time they voiced the concept—no, thegoal—it burrowed a little deeper into her heart. She’d never imagined the kind of life she was starting to imagine with Carver. Whether she hadn’t wanted it before she knew him or she simply hadn’t thought it was possible for her still wasn’t clear, but now that their future togetherhad dropped anchor in her reality, she would fight for it with every breath she had left. “I think thepeacepart might depend on the throne.” Happiness would be up to them, though.
Carver turned back to the widening trail. “I think you’ll know what to do to ignite magic. It’ll come naturally. You could even try after we cross the border.”
She winced. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t get a trial run. “I can’t. The idea is to end Punishment in Zeus’s name and gain him a bunch of thankful worshippers. We need an audience. The whole thing has to be big.”
He chuckled. “You’re good at big.”
Looking over sharply, she muttered, “Not sure that’s a compliment.”
