Johannas, for once, looked shocked. “I do. That shouldn’t be possible.”
Cion glanced between Soren and her father before ducking past Vane’s raised blade and hissing, “Who is Anabeth?”
“Cion! Back away. Now.”
But she ignored her father, dagger in hand just above Soren’s wrists. “Tell me, and I’ll let you go free.”
“She cares for you, Cion. That part isn’t an act.”
“Who. Is. She?”
Soren curled her fingers as Vane swung at the commander, who sidestepped the blow. “Her father was a mortal man long dead, and her mother is Juno, the goddess of the fates. She was my best friend a long time ago. That’s why she was punished too.”
Cion’s green eyes shone with tears, but she nodded once and made quick work of Soren’s restraints. “Go. I’ll try to hold my father off if Vane can take care of the commander.”
Soren grabbed her hand, brow creased. “Why?”
“You could have hated me all your life,” Cion whispered. “But I could see it in your eyes… You are kind, Soren. Anabeth and her father—or whoever they are—taught me that a world withers when ruled by corruption, no matter how powerful. I believe you, and if what you say is coming arrives, you’ll have a mortal princess at your command.”
“Soren!”
She let go of Cion’s hand at the sound of Vane’s voice. He was breathing heavily, poised above the commander, his sword pointed at his heart while King Johannas held a dagger to his throat. A bead of crimson dripped down his pale skin.
Death comes in many forms, goddess.
Heles’ voice was faint, but the words were clear enough that Soren understood what she had to do. She just needed a moment of focused power; that was all it would take. Reaching inside herself, she ripped open a cell door and destroyed the key.
No more locks or barred doors.
She needed everything she had if this was going to cut through the invisible hands gripping her power like a vice.
Johannas pressed the dagger firmly to Vane’s skin, and she screamed, opening her palm. A flash of razor-sharp shadow rushed from her, sliding past the king’s throat. He choked on the blood that bubbled up, and Soren fell to her knees. Cion cried out behind her, and Vane shoved his blade into the commander’s chest, his eyes ablaze with rage. But when he turned to face the princess with his bloody sword, Soren ordered, “Don’t touch her.”
Vane met Cion’s eyes. In another life, they could have been related. Vane had always claimed to not know who his motherwas, but perhaps there was some blood shared between them. And now, Cion, as heir apparent, held control of his life.
“Go,” she choked out. “I meant what I said to Soren. You are both free of your duties.”
Vane didn’t wait a second, lacing his fingers in Soren’s and tugging her past the bodies and out of the tent.
“Thessilnn and Heles are waiting,” he said breathlessly. “But we need to hurry.”
“Right,” Soren said. The world was becoming hazy again. It must be the hunger or dehydration. She could make it…
Vane caught her as she stumbled. “Soren! Gods, stay with me. It’s just a little further?—”
But laughter cut him off. Soren blinked heavily, her vision focusing just enough to see Ilav standing a few feet away.
“Impressive,” he mused in a voice that was not quite right. “You both made it much further than I would have thought. And the game was rather fun to watch, I will admit. Arcadia has grown rather dull over the years without the idiocy of the mortals providing amusement.”
The reality of who—what—Ilav really was came to her slowly. Too slowly, because he was already moving towards them.
“Stay the fuck away from her,” Vane snarled. She could feel his body heating, but she was sure his magic was dimmed too.
There was only one powerful enough to do that.
“Kronos,” she whispered as Ilav knelt. His eyes flickered silver as she said it, and he smiled.
“Hello, Sora. I’d say you look well…but it’s nothing I can’t fix.”
