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Chapter 1

Asterion

The first of their kind had been born into a maze and since then, no minotaur had liked being trapped.

Asterion was certainly no exception. He claimed the spot by the window as it gave a clear view of the drive and the tree line beyond, standing there with his arms crossed, gaze switching between the outside and the door. He didn’t trust any room with only one exit.

Truly, there was no need to worry, not here anyway. Brontaios’s sprawling mansion was well-fortified and heavily guarded, and everyone in the Ridge of the Nine Horns knew better than to cross the gambling den owner. This was the perfect place to hide and recover, and no one had argued when Brontaios had offered it.

Still, Asterion remained vigilant. Someone had offered him a chair twice this morning, and he refused it both times. No, he would not let his guard down, not even for a second. The last time he did, it had cost him dearly.

He broke his surveillance to glance behind him where his niece, Korinnae, sat on top of a settee with her legs folded beneath her, picking at the fringe of a luxurious Minean Mink blanket that probably cost more than his house.

Correction, he snorted to himself. Former house.

The clan would have divided their belongings by now, or burned them, whichever the elders found more satisfying. After all, Asterion had broken the number one rule of their clan: no magic of any type of form. And once word spread of what happened—and there was no doubt it already had—their shunning would be brutal and final. But it had all been worth it. Korinnae was alive and safe. For now, at least, he had kept his word to his sister.

Promise to me you’ll keep her safe, Asterion. Don’t let anyone hurt her.

Xanthe had been at death’s door when she had confessed her daughter’s true nature. The fever took everything from his sister except her grip. That had stayed strong to the end, locked around his wrist as she made him swear to protect Korinnae.

She had not lasted long enough to tell him how to protect her, so he chose to conceal what his niece was. It wasn’t difficult, as the calf had not manifested any magical inclination, not even a hint of power since she was born. The truth remained hidden until those strangers came and used their sorcery to expose her.

In the past hours, Asterion had gone over the events of the last few days in his head over and over again. After outing Korinnae with their magic, the strangers had come to his door. There had been five of them: a ragtag bunch consisting of a basilisk, a Drakkon, and three humans, along with Brontaios of the Dreifhorn Clan, the only reason Asterion had let them in.

“We’re looking for the children of Zeus.” The basilisk had introduced himself and spoken first. “There are forces searching for them. Dangerous ones. Our job is to find them first and make sure they’re safe.”

It was meant to scare him, he supposed. But that was their mistake, because nothing scared Asterion. And when they persisted, he threw them out. He thought that was it, but then the hunters arrived. The air tore open and the fierce creatures that came through the portals were nothing he’d ever seen before. It was their words that finally put fear in his heart.

We’re here for the child.

He had fought, as did the basilisk, the Drakkon with his fire, and Brontaios, and yet all of them together had not been enough. It was Korinnae who ended it. Pure magic had poured out of her and turned the hunters to dark smoke and ash, and half a breath later she folded into the grass with their poison already in her blood.

So now there was no denying it, and the entire clan knew what she was and that he had been hiding it from them. Korinnae broke their number one rule by simply existing. He had understood that while he was carrying her out of the clearing, away from the only home she ever knew, and he had not looked back once.

The door opened without a knock, sending his entire body into fight mode, despite the fact that there was no way the hunters or any adversary could have infiltrated the mansion without him knowing it. He would have relaxed, except the sight of the figure that entered only increased his anxiety.

The witch came in all businesslike, her kit floating behind her. Ariadne, she was called, protege to the ancient goddess Hecate. Small, dark haired, she had an unassuming air, but her mere presence made Asterion uncomfortable. It was like an itch; annoying, but it was there. However, he could not deny that the witch had saved Korinnae’s life.

Before he could ruminate on that, the basilisk and his mate, Liora, appeared right behind the witch.

“Korinnae, this is Ria,” Liora introduced. “She’s going to check on you, okay? She’s very good; she just finished with me.” Then, with a glance at the basilisk, almost casual: “And you’ve already met Maldenis. He’s actually your half-brother.”

Korinnae’s head came up.

They had laid the whole of it out for him after the attack: Zeus, the imprisoned king of the gods, had half-monster, half-divine children scattered across Vale Crossing and a prophecy foretold that one of those offspring might take the empty throne. This, however, drew the eye of an unknown enemy, one that hunted the progeny of Zeus relentlessly, likely in order to prevent the prophecy from coming true.

So, as it turned out, there was more to his niece’s secret. She had a dozen siblings across the realm, and every one of them had a target on their back. Asterion had yet to tell Korinnae the truth, and he watched with bated breath as his niece stared at a serpent-tailed stranger, seemingly contemplating the word brother. She studied Maldenis for a long moment with a blunt stare. A moment passed and she nodded, apparently satisfied, then turned to the witch instead.

“Hi, you must be Korinnae.” The witch settled next to the calf and had a hand on the girl’s shoulder before the introduction was finished. “I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Ria.”

Asterion’s eyes never left the pair. As she spoke, the witch touched Korinnae—on the shoulder, the wrist, the back of her hand, constantly, without seeming to notice she did it. He could not work out whether it was a witch’s habit or simply hers. In the clan, a stranger’s hand on a calf would have cost that stranger their limb or more. But he controlled himself, seeing as Korinnae beamed at her.

“How is she doing?” Liora asked as they crossed the room toward him.

“She survived the attack,” he said with a huff.

“And you?” she continued. “What happens to you both after this?”