And probably his wife, too.
April 30, 9508 BC
Ophion ducked as a vase flew past his head and shattered less than an inch from his face. It was even closer to Urian, who didn’t move at all.
But then Urian was used to shit flying at him when he least expected it. Too bad it didn’t kill him.
His jaw agape, Ophion stared at Urian in utter disbelief, not only at the shattered projectile but at Urian’s complete nonreaction to it. “Shite, brother! What have you done to your wife?”
Urian rolled the dice across the table and sighed as he lost another round. Figured. His luck was holding.
Bad to worse.
“I’ve been taking my meals in other places, and she’s rather pissed because of my poor life choices.”
Ophion grimaced in sympathetic pain. “What happened?”
Sighing, Urian sat back in his chair. “Let’s just say I’d rather starve than take meals that turn my stomach.”
His brother glanced through the open doors in the direction Xanthia had gone off with her friends. “What’sshedoing for food, then?”
“Haven’t asked and I don’t care.” No doubt his wife was spreading her legs for someone.
Ophion’s eyebrow shot up. “You really mean that?”
Urian nodded. “Unlike you,adelphos,I married for convenience and sustenance, not passion. When she ceased being those things … she can seek her comfort wherever she finds it.” He shrugged at a sad, painful truth. He really didn’t care whom she screwed or when. “The children, however, are another matter. I’m still caring for them.” His father had bred responsibility into them and would be the first to beat them down if they neglected to care for those who couldn’t fend for themselves.
As he’d always said, you protected whoever stood at your back. Fought with those who stood by your side, and killed whoever was dumb enough to stand before you.
Never be their enemy.
Trates appeared out of thin air, at their side. “Urian? Your father summons you. Immediately.”
That tone was extremely disconcerting. As was his unexpected appearance. It was rare for such a summons to come and even more so to be in such a dire manner.
Exchanging a frown with Ophion, he rose.
His brother remained seated.
At Urian’s unspoken question, he laughed bitterly. “I’d come with you, but I don’t like the sound of it. In fact, I’m pretty sure my testicles just crawled back into my belly.” He smacked Urian on the arm. “Have fun, brother. I’ll make a pyre for your funeral games.”
“May the gods strike you down, asshole,” Urian grumbled as he followed after Trates to see what their father wanted with him now. Though to be honest, he could think of nothing he’d done particularly vexing.
At least not tonight.
Which was actually a record for him, given how most nights went. Normally, he’d be due a good ass-kicking by this time.
For once, and in spite of his wife’s anger toward him, he’d been on his better behavior.
He hadn’t punched anyone in the face. Started any revolts. Most miraculously of all, he hadn’t even brawled with his brothers.
Yet as he entered his father’s study and found a group of unfamiliar Daimons there, he drew up short.
This is unexpected.Especially given the fact that every member of the party, including their leader, was a woman. Dressed in a breastplate of white orichalcum, she, like the rest of them, was strikingly gorgeous. Her long blond hair was plaited, and laced with bright red ribbons that matched her cloak. A cloak that contrasted with the studded black leather of her pteruges and tall black war sandals.
Damn …
She and her warriors were the epitome of a teen Apollite fantasy made real. The kind of dream he’d spent a lot of his youth wishing would happen upon him while he was alone in the woods, lost and naked.
