Like fuck he would. She needed heat and the raging flames were not enough. Her death would not be on his hands—his brother had warned him what would happen if Dimitris could not protect her a second time. “Excuse me?”
“It’s the tonic Cal crafted for her. It allows her to recover quickly, but if the pain is beyond what she can handle it will cause her to sink into a dreamless sleep,” Dafne said in a nonchalant tone.
Cal trusted Dafne more than him with this secret? Dimitris was going to kill his uncle for not telling him what that potion did—not preparing him for this. “This is not dreamless, Dafne, she is frozen to my touch, barely breathing.”
“Her body is being preserved until it is ready to wake once more.”
“And how do you know this?”
“Because Nyx told me.” She stroked her hand down the raven-furred creature’s back.
“Then how does Nyx know this?” It was only an animal after all.
“Mykonos told her.”
What in the gods’ names was happening? “The two of them communicate?”
Dafne rolled her eyes, huffing out a scoff. “Can you not communicate amongst your kind when you are shifted, Prince?”
“Of course I can, but that is different.”
“It is not,” she said as if it were common knowledge.
“And can you communicate with her as well—Mykonos?”
“Really, Prince? Do they teach you nothing on Nexos? A bond between a human and theirpsychíis theirs alone to share. No one else deserves to know that part of our soul so intimately. You can go—get some rest before the sun rises once again—I will make sure she wakes.”
But even with Dafne there, watching over Thalia as she slept, Dimitris stayed until the rouge hue swept back into Thalia’s lips and her fingers began to twitch, convincing himself yet again that it was only because of his loyalty to his brother.
Chapter Six
Dimitris
Two members of the crew stood across from each other, one with mahogany leather braces around his wrists, the other with hands wrapped tightly with linen. Moving with grace, the two circled each other, footwork mirroring an enchanting dance. One would step in and the other would retreat, swaying their bodies in parallel. They were not sparring yet, merely learning how to shadow each other's moves, how to predict your opponent. This was how Dimitris had learned to fight as a boy, mastering the basics of movement and balance before his fist ever met flesh. It was the Nexian way.
The two men finished their waltz and turned toward each other, bowing deep before stepping back to the side of the rail, the nextpair taking their place. Dimitris instructed each team on the intricacies of the movements. When the groups were down to only a single other man, the Nexian Army’s most respected general, the dancing stopped.
“Alright, Elias, what do you say to showing these men how to truly fight?” Dimitris challenged, beckoning his most trusted confidant to join him at the center of the deck.
“Ah, Dimitris, you sometimes forget who taught you to fight,” Elias replied with a grin, stepping toward the open deck. “But you know me, I never turn down a challenge, even one as easy as yours.”
A rambunctious laugh escaped Dimitris. He had known the general for nearly his entire life, and though Elias was only a few years older, approaching thirty, the man was significantly larger than the prince. Dimitris had always prided himself on his muscular physique, but he could not deny that Elias’s broad bone structure was intimidating. It was why he focused so much on the art of warfare and hand-to-hand combat. Elegance and poise of proper form would always overpower a stronger opponent.
“Elias, how many times must I take you to the ground before you stop underestimating me?” he joked, plucking two pieces of linen wrap from a barrel on deck.
Looping his thumb through the hole at one end, Dimitris wrapped the material around his wrist, thumb and forefinger, repeating the same steps with each of his other fingers. Despite the carefully wrapped fabric, Dimitris would still end up with scrapes and bruises along his knuckles each time, but it gave just enough of a barrier that he could heal within an hour.
“Oh, trust me, Prince, I never underestimate you; I just have always seen your confidence for what it is—misplaced.”
“It is not misplaced if one has the skill.” Dimitris chuckled once more, finishing the wrapping his second hand.
The other men looked on with no more than indifference. How many times had his crew heard the same back and forth? It was always in jest, though sometimes Dimitris wondered if Elias was right. If his overconfidence would one day get the better of him. That thought only caused him to train more, focus more, hone every trick in the book to become the best.
Reaching his bound hands to the hem of his shirt, Dimitris peeled the cotton garment up over his head.
“Shirtless, Dimitris? Seriously?” Elias arched his brow, sticking his hands on his hips.
“What? Afraid you’ll get distracted?” He wiggled his eyes at the general.
