She rubbed his back. “You know where I am if you need me.”
Urian didn’t move until she’d left him alone. His mind was still reeling with the events of the night and the fact that he needed a soul.
Artemis had changed the rules on them. A part of him wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that they’d been hunting and killing Apollo’s other lineage. But then, he couldn’t imagine that Artemis would care.
As Apollymi had noted, she was too selfish for that.
Paris and Davyn entered the hall, looking for his father. Urian flinched as he realized they had no idea what had happened. Unable to tell them about Theo, he opened a portal and for the first time in his life, he ran.
Which was a stupid thing since he didn’t know where the portal would drop him. Fortunately, it didn’t drop him in daylight.
It took him a full minute to realize that this was the ruins of Sheba’s capitol. He was standing in what had once been the hallway where she’d died.
Haunted by the ghosts of his past, he tried to remember that night. But time had dulled his memories. It was so long ago now. He could barely remember what she looked like. Even the fact that he’d been married seemed more like a dream than reality.
And still the human souls in his head screamed. The only time they gave him peace was whenever Xyn was with him. For some reason, he didn’t hear them with her around. He didn’t know if he was so occupied by her presence that he just didn’t pay attention or if there was something about her that blotted them out.
Whatever it was, her presence gave him a precious reprieve from the madness.
As Urian was thinking about Xyn, he caught a peculiar flash buried in the rubble. Scowling, he walked over to it. At first, he thought it was some bit of trash. Until he got closer and picked it up.
It was a piece of armor that had broken off. Not just any armor.
This was a symbol he knew and had seen. Many times. His heart hammering, he took it and returned to Kalosis.
Without a word to anyone, he teleported to Apollymi’s palace and headed for her garden.
As always, she was sitting at her mirror, watching the world. But when she felt his approach, she came to her feet. “Has something else happened?”
He bowed to her, then held the armor piece out toward her. “What is this emblem?”
She took one look at it and her eyes flashed red. “Where did this come from?”
“From Sheba’s palace. It’s part of the armor our attackers were wearing that night.”
The piece burst apart as her black dress fluttered. “It appears we have a most potent enemy. Helios went after you, along with my sister Azura.”
“Why?”
“You are the children of Apollo. My guess is, he wants to eradicate all of you and retake his godhood.”
“But we hate Apollo.”
She laughed bitterly. “That doesn’t matter, Urian. When you carry the blood of a god, you carry a death sentence. For we are petty creatures. Far more so than mankind. And our grudges and power plays take on far worse consequences than anything mankind can conceive.”
Apollymi took his hand and pulled him toward her mirror. “Look into the water.”
As he did so, she stood behind him with one hand on his shoulder and the other at his waist. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder. Strange how she seemed so much larger and more fierce until now.
But really, she was a tiny thing physically compared to him. Her frame was delicately boned and almost fragile in appearance. Meanwhile, he might not be as well muscled as his father, but he still wasn’t slight of frame by any means. His physique was honed and lethal from all his battles and practice. Scarred from war, and even from play.
She danced her fingertips lightly over his collarbone and as she did so, his arm illuminated. The scroll pattern became luminescent and vibrant as if it had a life of its own. And the color shot all the way to his eyes.
“You are a creature of great beauty,” she whispered in his ear. “Like me, a weapon of absolute death and yet you can give life.”
“I couldn’t save my brother or sister.” He choked on his tears.
“That is our tragedy and heart fires that forge us into who and what we are. We hate them for it, but they mold us against our wills. And we have a choice; we either allow those tragedies to bend us into the weapon we’re meant to be so that we can continue to fight the battles we must, or we shatter under the weight of them to become useless things. I will never be a useless thing to lie on the floor and bemoan what has happened to me. Rather I will strike back and strike down all those who’ve tried to break me. For that is what a weapon forged by fire does.”
