Natassa, Telamon’s wife, scowled at Urian as he pulled away from his brother. “I will never understand the bizarre relationship you boys have. You’re so mean to each other.”
Urian grinned. “It’s brotherly affection, little sister. End of the night, we know we’d die for one another.”
“Provided we don’t kill each other first.”
Urian nodded at Telly’s words. “Exactly.”
She shook her head. “My point. I’m so glad I have only sisters.”
Telamon snorted. “Shudder that.” Then he glanced back to Urian. “Good luck with Paris.”
“Don’t need it.” Urian closed the door and headed down the hallway to leave. In the front room he paused to watch his niece and nephew playing near the fire. Elias was a dead ringer for Telamon. Same golden-blond hair. Same dark brown eyes and chiseled cheeks. Meanwhile, Thesally was a much smaller version of Natassa. She was even dressed in a matching pale green peplos. And her blond hair was coiled around her small head in a similar fashion. Telamon was going to have fun guarding his daughter’s virtue in the near future.
So glad I don’t have one ofthose.
Walking over to them, Urian gave them a kiss and a hug before he left. His nieces and nephews were the best parts of his brothers. They reminded him why he loved his siblings, without the repugnant mouths that made him want to knock them through walls. He’d never understand what it was about his siblings that made them so repellent at times. Why couldn’t they keep their opinions and fists to themselves?
Their children were precious. Perhaps that would change one day. But so far, he adoredthem.
He prayed it was always so.
Urian drew his cloak tighter as he headed down the street.
Now to wreak mayhem on his twin.
It didn’t take him long to reach the small cottage Paris shared with Davyn. Because Davyn hadn’t come from the privileged background Paris had, he didn’t feel comfortable in their father’s larger, more opulent dwelling. And servants made him downright nervous. To Urian’s eternal shock and surprise, Paris had actually managed to care enough about another person that he’d given up being pampered and catered to so that he could move in with Davyn and live an extremely modest lifestyle. It still screwed with his head. Altruism was a foreign concept for any of his hedonistic brothers.
Yet Paris was the one brother he had who never cheated on his partner. It said a lot about both of them that they were so committed.
Urian opened the door without knocking. “Paris! Davyn!” He shouted only because he didn’t want to walk in on an awkward scene. One thing about his brothers—none of them were particularly circumspect.
Not that he needed to have bothered.
The cottage was empty.
Fine. Little shit must be in the main hall still, bragging over his exploits and battle skills. That was good, then. He could use an audience to witness the beating he planned to give his brother.
With his temper mounting, Urian headed for it.
Sure enough, he found the two of them in the circle of Daimons and Apollites, with Paris bragging as he’d expected. And demonstrating some of his “techniques.”
Urian’s gaze narrowed. Growling deep in his throat, he ran forward. The crowd parted as he went straight for Paris. His brother turned. He caught Paris about the waist and raised him up so that he could body-slam him to the ground.
“What the Tartarus, Urian!” Paris punched at his throat.
Urian was too furious to care as he returned the blows with his own counterstrikes.
Paris tried to flip him over his head. Urian wasn’t having any of it. All he wanted was his brother’s blood.
“You lying sack of scytel!” His need for vengeance mixed with his bloodlust. And it drove him to a new level of anger that his own twin had fed him to their father.
One moment they were slugging it out on the floor.
The next they were hanging in the air.
“What is this madness that has possessed you?” their father demanded, hands on hips where he watched from below.
Urian squirmed in an effort to break his hold. “Ananke and Lyssa!”
