“We’ll get her back.”
“How?” Even he heard the crack in his voice.
Maddor gave him a cocky grin. “I might be a bastard, but I wasn’t without some friends in Camelot.”
Shadow nodded. “Ditto. Morgen wants a war? Let’s give her one.”
***
Morgen tsked at Medea. “I can’t believe you did something so foolish, little girl.”
“Oh, stick around, hon. My stupidity has just begun.” Medea used her powers to snatch the dragonstone from Morgen’s grasp.
That expression of shock would be comical in a less dire situation. As it was, Medea ran for the nearest door with no idea where it would lead. It just seemed like the best course of action would be to put as much distance between them as possible.
She hit the hallway at full speed.
Oh yeah, this was dumb. Dark and dismal, it was lit with an unholy glowing light. Sinister shadows danced around her like living creatures.
With no idea of where to seek shelter, Medea rushed toward wherever. She had absolutely no destination in mind. Just any place else but here.
Which turned out to be straight into Narishka.
Beautimous.
Medea cursed under her breath as the fey bitch tsked at her. “Be a good girl. Hand it over.”
“Not a good girl. I’m a villain, too. You want it? Gotta fight me for it. Come get some, bitch.” She tucked it in her bra and manifested a set of bagh nakas. For this, she wanted to feel some blood on her hands.
And fangs.
Narishka sent an invisible blast toward her.
Medea countered and sent one of her own. “C’mon. That all you got?”
They attacked en masse and quickly learned why she was the leader of her father’s army, as Medea unleashed eleven thousand years of pent-up Daimon fury on them. One thing about the Spathi, they didn’t hold back.
And they didn’t flinch. Forget the Spartans. The Spathi Daimons were the warriors who could make King Leonidas wet his pteruges.
But that wasn’t the only reason she fought. In the back of her mind was the past, when they’d come for Praxis and Evander.
That night, she hadn’t fought at all. Untrained and passive, she’d been helpless before the humans as they slaughtered her husband and son. Back then, she’d told herself that it was more noble to do as the gods decreed and accept her fate, whatever it was.
To be dutiful. To submit docilely, like a good citizen.
The nail that stood out was hammered down.
Evander had believed it, too. So they had followed the rules and done what they were supposed to. They’d never made noise. Never bothered anyone.
Never harmed another living soul.
It hadn’t mattered. Her loyalty had been returned to her with treachery, betrayal, and blood.
Her kindness shoved down her throat. Those she counted as friends had been the first to turn against her and cast her to the wolves. Not a one had spoken up in her defense.
Not a single act of charity remembered. No. They hadn’t returned to her the respect she’d shown them. Or the regard. Rather, everyone she’d ever helped had abandoned her as if she’d never done anything for them.
Cold-hearted, selfish fucking bastards!
