And his curse.
“Enter.”
He used his powers to open her doors and walked slowly toward her perch. Xedrix narrowed his glowing gaze at Urian, but Sabine ignored him as the Charonte female always did. Yet she watched him with an alertness that said she wouldn’t mind adding him to her menu should he do anything that displeased her mistress.
Apollymi placed her red sfora down on the pillow and turned to meet Urian’s gaze. “What can I do for you,ormourpido?”
“I have a favor I should like to beg of you, akra.”
That caused one brow to arch. “If you ask me about freeing that dragon one more time—”
“Nay, akra. It’s not that …” Obviously, he’d aggravated her about Xyn so much that it’d become a sore topic for the goddess. So he quickly changed the subject to what had caused him to disturb her tonight. “I’ve asked Xanthia to marry me.”
She dropped the sfora.
Xedrix ran to catch it.
Apollymi rose up to float above them all. She wasn’t standing; she hovered in the air, over the black waters. “Pardon? Do you love her?”
Unsure of her mood for once, he swallowed hard before he answered her honestly. “Nay, akra. It’s … a mutual benefit.”
“I see.” Her eyes began to glow red. “And this favor you would have of me?”
More than a little nervous at her peculiar act, Urian took a deep breath. “Do you remember what I said to you when I was a child?”
“Aye, but you said many things to me when you were young. To which one are you referring now?”
The one that haunted him constantly. The one that weighed on his conscience the heaviest. And it was the one he couldn’t go into marriage without addressing first.
“About children, akra. I meant what I said. The last thing I want is to father a babe I have to watch die. Or one I have to stand over when he or she goes Daimon and becomes a soulless killer. Hunted. Hated. Can you please make it so that I will never father any while I’m an Apollite?”
Her jaw dropped at his request. “Do you understand what it is you’re asking me, Urian?”
“Aye, akra.” His gaze went to the pillow she’d dropped on the ground. “I know the pain that haunts you. The pain that drovemi solrento bargain away his very soul. I’ve killed enough treli here, and seen enough Daimon conversions and Apollite deaths to know well what fate awaits me. I don’t want that for my children. It’s no way for anyone to live. Please spare me your heartache, akra. I beg you for that mercy.”
More tears glistened in her eyes as she lowered herself to stand before him. Reaching out, she drew him into her arms and kissed his forehead. “Then it is done, my precious one. You are sterile.”
Strange, he didn’t feel any differently. But if she said he was sterile, he would trust in her. “Thank you, akra.”
“Don’t thank me, Urian. Not for this. Because I’ve taken from you the single greatest joy I’ve ever known.”
“Nay, akra.” He glanced down at the tearstained pillow. “As you said, it’s all about how you look at things. What you took from me was the greatest heartache and pain you’ve ever suffered.”
She inclined her head to him. “As you say,m’gios.Life is all about perspective.”
Xanthia froze asshe felt a chill rush down her spine. It was one she was intimate with and the one she hated more than anything. Yet she knew better than to let it show, for that would be a death sentence. Bracing herself, she forced a false smile to her lips.
“My lord.” She curtsied before the ancient god.
Disguised as an Apollite, the god of sorcery and the blackest craft glanced around the small room with a sneer. “What a wretched hovel they’ve given you.”
Honestly, it was better than the death sentence his pantheon had bestowed upon her and her children. All things considered, she’d much rather have the cottage.
Besides, experience had taught her that the ancient god didn’t want her to speak. So she kept her gaze on the floor and her thoughts to herself while he pranced and preened about in front of her. And she didn’t miss the irony that the god of sunshine certainly brought none whatsoever to her life whenever Helios came near. Indeed, she’d be hard-pressed to decide who was gloomier—Helios or Apollo.
He stopped short and turned toward her. “How far have you progressed in my plans?”
“Stryker’s son has proposed to me.”
