Our blades met, and she stared at me defiantly, searching for an opening. My aggression faded. She’d become a psyche—a blessing bestowed only on the compassionate. She’d come all the way here, at the risk of death, to try and save people who would never thank her.
How could she think she was worthless?
Aethra whirled her blade around, swinging for my exposed hand. Jerking back, I avoided her swipe, but it was only a feint. Leaping through my broken guard, Aethra’s sword sang for my neck, nearly touching skin.
Blood rushed from my palm, forming into a dagger that sailed between me and steel—deflecting her strike at the last moment.
Huffing, Aethra stepped back. “How am I supposed to fight chthonics?”
“Your Elpis magic works wonders,” I said.
“I don’t want to use that.”
“Why?’
Swallowing, Aethra paused before answering. “It’s too destructive.”
“Fair enough.” I furrowed my brow in thought. “Didn’t Eleossay—”
Strange emotions swept over me. Sympathy sprang through my thoughts, though I wasn’t sure why. Aethra no longer looked like a capable woman—she looked vulnerable and small. I needed to protect her. Comfort her. Lowering my blade, I hurried to her side.
Her breath was warm on my face as she jabbed my throat with her sword. “I win,” she whispered.
She’d used psyche magic to shift my emotions. So much for my ironclad defenses. Her spell faded, and the unnatural empathy fell away.
Admittedly, my genuine emotions weren’t so different.
“I can’t believe it worked,” Aethra breathed, grinning. “Not bad for a first try.” Her grin shifted into a wicked smirk. “I’ll have that secret, now.”
Letting the blade slide across my neck, I leaned closer to her. Ma’at, Cerys, and I shared countless secrets. Picking one, I moved to answer, but my gaze fell to her lips.
My mind dulled, and our surroundings blurred. I remembered the way she’d tasted, on the boat. The way she’d felt, in my arms.
My hands moved of their own accord. Wrapping my arms around her back, I pulled her closer.
Aethra dropped her blade and curled her fingers into my hair. I should have resisted, should have pulled away. But I couldn’t. A desire that burned hot as fire raced through my veins, and I gave in.
I pressed my lips against hers and shuddered with relief. Her touch was as water in the desert, a balm to my wounds. She moaned softly, and I lost control.
Pushing her up against the wall, I ran my hands through her hair, down her neck, and settled on her waist. She broke from my lips, tilting her head to show me her neck. A sigh of bliss escaped her as I followed her orders, tracing her neck down to her collarbone. Her fingers ran through my hair, sending electric rushes through my skin.
Pulling her away from the wall, I pressed her against me, digging my fingers into her shirt. I wanted nothing more than to rip it off, to feel her skin against mine. And though I held hertighter than ever before, we still weren’t close enough.
Aethra ripped from my grip.
“I shouldn’t—” She stammered. “I shouldn’t have done that.” Her voice quivered. “I’m sorry, I . . . I should get back.”
I reached for her, but my fingers only brushed her arm. She darted around a corner and disappeared.
Taking a deep breath, I pressed a hand to my chest when a sharp pang lanced through me.
Aethra would probably never forgive me. Every time she met my gaze, she’d see my father and remember who betrayed her.
I bit my knuckles, hard enough to draw blood. Why did anyone dare to hope in life? Choosing to spend your life with someone only promised early heartbreak and a grave to visit—knowing you’d never speak to them again.
Why did we fall in love if the inevitable result was unbearable pain?
I was going to gut every last one of these bastards. Aeacus, for telling my father of Cassandra’s magic. For preventing me from reaching her. Icelus, for torturing Aethra. My father and all of his men, for what they did to my mother. To Cass. What they’d do to Aethra, given the chance.
