Noise rumbled from the soldiers. “Not possible!” shot across the space between them.
“Itispossible,” Bel called back. “We crossed worlds to come here,for you, and only Zeus can sanction humans crossing into other worlds. You know this. Everyone does.” The only successful exception she knew of was her newborn sister, somehow smuggled here by Hera.
Eyes narrowing, Pav asked, “How do we know you’re telling the truth?”
Bel exhaled heavily. Her eyes brightened, her hair started to glow, and slowly, she lifted a hand and brought magical fire into their world. “Because I’m Magoi. And no one born in Atlantis has magic.”
“It’s her!” several of the soldiers shouted. Accusations and finger pointing swiftly followed.
She killed…
She burned…
She whipped King Eryx.
“Yes, it’s me,” Bel solemnly admitted. “And I never wanted to hurt anyone except for Eryx that night I came to the castle. I’m so sorry about your friends. Those soldiers…” She shook her head, regret dimming her fire until it vanished from her eyes and extinguished from between her fingers. She lowered her hand, a final flame flickering down her braid. “I defended myself the way I did because I had to get Cleito away from that monster before he killed her. Cleito was the only one with vital information about Zeus’s project for us here in Atlantis. I had to protect her and get the information. I swear to you, that’s all I wanted to do. That, and punish Eryx for what he did to Carver.”
The grumbles slowly quieted. Every single one of them knew exactly what she was talking about. These men Carver had served next to and trained with looked at him, some with compassion, some with suspicion. Swords stayed up, but no one moved a muscle.
Pav finally jerked his chin at Carver. “Half these men saw you take twenty lashes and barely stumble out of the castle. With help.” His suspicious gaze slashed fleetingly to Silas. “The other half heard about it.In detail. How are you traveling and moving around so easily after what just happened to you?”
It was a good question, and Carver hoped the honest answer would help them. “Persephone came to us the next day and healed me.” Instead of more surprised muttering, total silence followed except for the creak of armor as forty men shifted nervously. “As I said, we were sent by the gods. They need us to accomplish this mission for Zeus as quickly as possible.”
“Show them your back,” Bel encouraged. “They’ll see for themselves that it’s perfect.”
Perfect. He huffed a wry laugh, his lips barely moving. It was scarred, but not from anything recent. Now, each mark gained while fighting beside his brothers and comrades in Thalyria was a memory to hold on to rather than a blemish.
Turning, Carver lifted his tunic. Proof was worth a thousand words, and there was no denying his back was as good as it had been before Eryx whipped him.
“Look at that! He’s telling the truth!” Silas exclaimed with convincing astonishment. This time, a real smile slipped out. Carver tucked it away before turning back around, finding Silas looking at his men—all the people who’d been in the throne room the day Eryx flayed him. “He’d still be bloodied. Scarred. You all saw what Eryx did to him.”
Several men nodded. So did Carver.
“Ithasto be the work of the gods.” Dex’s awed words spread to both units, his genuine amazement and fascination an unmistakable undercurrent. He looked directly at Pav. “No one else could do this.”
Pav swung a guarded look on Bel, wariness carving heavy lines into his sun-weathered features. “Maybe she’s a Magoi healer.”
“I’m not.” Bel shook her head. “I swear it. Healers don’t have any other magic. It’s a great gift, but theyonlyheal, and you just saw my fire.”
“Lies. It could all be lies,” Pav hissed, his sword still up. “With your friends helping you.” His eyes darted to the side, but this time when he looked at Silas, questions blared from his alarmed expression rather than convictions.
“That’s true about healers,” Dex said, stepping forward. “My family might not have the magic anymore, but we’ve passed down what knowledge we could. Healers don’t have other forms of magic.”
Bel turned a grateful look on Dex, the slight dip of her chin a nodded thank-you.
Carver was grateful, too. Dex expressed his ancestral-Magoi ire often enough for at least half of the men here to know his family used to produce healers.
“We’re telling the truth.” Carver looked over the soldiers, his gaze landing heavily on Pav and staying there. “Time will prove it—to you and everyone—and we could really use your help making sure Atlantis has a better future than the one Eryx would give it. We don’t want to fight you. Please—join us.”
Pav’s mouth worked, and he seemed to chew on his words before finally launching them up the meadow. “You’re asking us to disobey orders. Betray our king. Compromise our positions. Endanger our families.”
Carver nodded. “I know it’s not easy.”
“Easy?” Pav’s harsh laugh exploded like a crack of thunder. “You want us to trust you when we hardly know you. And you’re asking us to believe that gods who abandoned us lifetimes ago are suddenly interested in us and our island. You want us to trust you when your wife just killed soldiers.Friends.” He sliced his head back and forth, gripping his sword so hard the blade trembled. “This is impossible.”
“Not impossible, just difficult,” Carver acknowledged, eyeing Pav’s weapon a little more cautiously. He knew for a fact the man knew how to use it—and probably wouldn’t hesitate once he’d made up his mind. “And Eryx kills every day. But he doesn’t kill soldiers in battle. He picks innocent women from among his subjects and murders them.”
“For us!” a soldier in the back called out. “To bring us magic.”
