“You reek,” she said. “Tell us what happened.”
I cast what I hoped was an imperceptible glance at Zeus. The glare he gave Athena could have toppled an entire kingdom. The monarchs had listened to her while ignoring him. It was the biggest statement she could have made. She was done pretending like she didn’t command far more respect from the monarchs than he did.
Ares solemnly filled everyone in on what had happened to Poseidon. A sea of stunned faces looked back at us. If I hadn’t seen it myself, or known about the lycanthropes’ existence beforehand, I might have struggled to believe Ares’s story, too.
Athena remained where she was, her expression hard. “I think we all know what we must do. We have to find and kill that beast.”
“A bit difficult when the rain is keeping us trapped inside,” Hephaestus muttered, leaning on his cane with a weariness I felt within my bones.
“That won’t last forever.” Athena turned toward Achilles, who hovered beside the doors. “Fetch the wood from the tunnels. We’ll secure all the windows. If the beast wants to come for us again, he’ll be forced to come through the front, where we’ll be ready for him.” Then she shifted her attention to Zeus. “Gather the guards. We’ll have them take turns watching the front in groups of six, rotating every few hours. The rest of us will wait it out in the megaron. If the beast comes in, we fight.”
“Now Athena—” Zeus started.
She held up a hand. “I’m not questioning your authority, but I’ve faced invaders of my own, and this is what we must do. If they want to fight us, they have one option. And that option ensures our win.”
Zeus scowled. He clearly didn’t like Athena taking authority by the horn, but he couldn’t object. It was a good plan.
“What if the beast realizes what we’re doing and avoids the front?” Ares asked.
Athena hauled the sword off her shoulder and slammed the pointed tip into the marble floor. “Once the rain stops, we go and find him.”
Everyone got to work after that. Achilles and several servants came and went with planks of wood. Soon enough the pile was too tall for me to see over the top of it. Each of us was to take as much as we could carry and secure the windows in our rooms.
On my way, I considered my options. The lycanthropes weren’t tame, even if they’d once been human. And when they were in their human forms, theywerejust like anyone else. Logical, reasonable, kind. But in their wolf form, they were feral. They lost all sense of themselves, driven by bloodlust.
They were a lot like vampires who never learned control.
But if I could somehow find him and talk to him while he was in his human form, I might be able to reason with him. Or even discover why he was doing this. Since I’d been on this island, I’d found that not all the monarchs were like Zeus. Some of them were decent people who didn’t deserve to die.
When I rounded the corner, I spotted Orpheus pacing outside my door, wringing his hands. He jerked toward me at the sound of my footsteps. There was something strange in his expression, but before I could decipher it, it was gone.
“I was told to help you patch up your window,” he told me.
“Did they tell you why?”
Arms laden with wood, I pushed open the door to my rooms, then held it open with my boot. As soon as Orpheus scurried in behind me, I let it shut. Theclickwas ominous, resolute.
“There was mention of a wolf, yes,” he said quietly.
I continued into the bedroom and dropped the planks near the balcony. Then I sighed. “Can you explain how a lycanthrope is on the Isle of Aiaia for Nekros.”
A statement, not a question. Orpheus was no stranger to Medea. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear he’d smuggled one of her creations onto our ship. How else had one gotten here?
“Your Majesty,” he began, clearing his throat. “I need you to believe that I did not do this.”
I shot him a dark look. “You avoided answering my question. Can you explain to me how he’s here?”
“I’m actually not sure I can, Your Majesty,” came the mumbled words.
His eyes were downcast, but I tucked my finger beneath his chin and forced him to meet my eyes. “Can’t? Orwon’t?”
He swallowed, his neck bobbing against my finger. “I can’t. Medea must have sent him, but I was not involved. I swear it upon your mother’s grave.”
Hissing, I stepped back. “Don’t you dare swear upon her death unless you really bloody mean it, Orpheus. You are my closest friend and my dearest advisor, but I could never stand back and let you tarnish her name like that.”
“I know,” he said, his voice wobbling. “But it wasn’t me, Your Majesty. I didn’t do this, I swear it.”
I sighed. Closed my eyes. Tried to conjure a sense of calm. I had to believe Orpheus wouldn’t lie to me about something so monumental, and I hated feeling at odds with him.
