There were too many people on the streets, and though they might have been full with liquor and lust, Dimitris could not risk the Lernaen Legion finding out who was really out for blood.
Run-down brothels and seedy taverns were replaced by three-story brick buildings, each with grape vines crawling up the stone. This was where the wealthy lived, the men and women who owned the secret rooms behind bars, the ones who dealt in the worst kind of trade, those that owned the gladiators who fought in underground rings, the men he hunted.
It made his fists clench and his ears burn how stark the shift in the scent of the air was, from a putrid mix of bile and excrement to crackling wood and fragrant florals. How could the elite not take care of their own people, walk past the filth that the market square had become, let children and women beg on the streets? His kingdom would never let this happen; the Nexian’s were like a pack, where one succeeded, they all succeeded.
This wasn’t to say there weren’t levels of wealth. A fisherman’s salary could not purchase a home like those that lined this street, but his people aided each other from neighbor to king. Every Nexian did their part—brought additional fish and breads to those who were hungry or whose crops had died, gave education to all children, sent healers to those that became ill in even the most desolate parts of the isle. Basic rights every person deserved to have regardless of what circumstance they were born into. What he walked through now was savagery.
A few townhomes up on the right stood the most lavish of them all, though Dimitris wasn’t surprised. The Lernean Legion had raided for years along the coast of the northern continent of Voreia and were mercenaries for the King of Harrenfort, earning them a steep amount of coin. Now all he needed was to get inside, a simpler task than he’d expected.
His knuckles reddened in the cold as he rapped against the wrought iron door three times. No answer came from inside, but he could hear the men shuffling about, clinking their glasses of liquor together as if they had something to celebrate. Once more he knocked, this time pounding the side of his fist until the sound reverberated down the entire street.
Rumbling came from inside as locks clicked and chains were removed. They must have been very cocky if they didn’t even slide the looking view across to see who was outside banging down their door.
“What do you want?” a gruff voice slurred as one of the men Dimitris played against earlier cracked the door open.
“Are you so drunk that you do not remember me?” Oh, this was going to be fun.
“You’ll have to excuse my partner, he is better with his fists than his words.” That slick, oily man who called himself Aarin stepped from the shadows.
Good.
Dimitris had hoped he would be here.
“Come to return the whore so soon? Too bad. I don’t like used goods.”
Dimitris stepped through the threshold, inching closer to the legionnaire. “You really should watch your tongue when speaking about a lady.”
“And who are you to tell me how to speak, boy?” Aarin hissed through gritted teeth and Dimitris slammed the door behind him.
“My name is Prince Dimitris Kirassos, Alpha of the Nexian wolves, and I am here to settle a debt.”
Aarin’s eyes flared and he began to yell orders, but it was to no avail. A raw, unfiltered growl left Dimitris’s throat as he shifted, and not a single one of the men could reach their swords fast enough.
Chapter Four
Thalia
Sunlight filtered through the curtained window in Thalia’s quarters. The scent of freshly cooked pastries and chai tea floated in the air, but she didn’t dare move from under the plush covers of the bed. Light snoring came from beside her in the bed where Dafne slept, arms curled around her shimmering blackpsychí. It was probably the first time in months that her sister had slept; Thalia could sense the ease in the way Dafne’s breath pulled in and out, remembering the first time hers calmed that way.
Mykonos hopped onto the bed with light feet, kneading on the blanket above Thalia’s stomach.
“I do not want to wake her, little one.”
“But I am hungry.”Mykonos peered up at her, yellow eyes bright and wide.
“You can wait a little longer. She needs her rest.”
“The prince will need your help to chart a course to Skiatha. You really should get out of bed.”Mykonos chirruped, bumping her head into Thalia.
“Since when do you care what the prince needs?”
“Since he brought me an extra portion of fish this morning.”
“You traitorous little thing!”Thalia narrowed her eyes at the creature.“So you have already eaten, and yet you still claim you're hungry?”
Mykonos cocked her head to the side.“Yes.”
Stirring came from the other side of the bed as Nyx poked her head up, teeth bared.
