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“We leave. Our clan does not tolerate magic.” A complete understatement, despite the flatness of his tone. “Now that it is known what she is, there is no going back.”

“We could help,” Liora said. “It’s our mission to help the children of Zeus. Did they tell you of the prophecy and⁠—”

“Yes,” he bit out. “I will keep her safe. I promised her mother I would. We will be fine on our own.” They had to be. Even if he had to crawl through the bowels of the Underworld, he would keep his vow to Xanthe.

“Our team can find you a place to stay, where those hunters won’t⁠—”

“I do not take charity.” And frankly, they had done enough. He wanted to put as many leagues between them and Korinnae as possible.

The basilisk tilted his head, and Asterion watched an idea seemingly arrive on his face. “You know this region, and you clearly know how to protect someone. We could use someone like you.”

Someone like him. Asterion snorted to himself. The clan had never given the work a name, nor handed him a title, but it was understood that if there was a problem, they only had to go to him. There was only the knock at his door at an ungodly hour, and a name, and by morning it was handled. Debts got paid and men who talked shut their mouths. Twice he’d broken a leg for the elders, and once he’d broken considerably more than that. Yet, not one of them had ever labeled what he was. He was good at it and that was that.

Still, he was selective when it came to assignments, and he refused to accept a pity job. “I said, I do not take⁠—”

“It’s work,” Maldenis said. “And you saw those hunters, what they could do. We need you.”

“We provide housing and protection,” Liora added. “Korinnae could go to a school in Alindale. And remember, she’s not out of the woods yet. The remedy Ria gave us isn’t permanent. She has to administer it regularly until we can find a real cure.”

And there was the part he kept tiptoeing around, the fact that lurked in the corners of his mind. He glanced back toward his niece, where the witch had Korinnae’s arm extended and was murmuring over the crook of her elbow while the girl chattered at her. There was no way around it. The poison was still in her blood, contained by magic and curable only by magic. Every road out of this room ran directly through everything ingrained in him to despise.

“Can we not take potions from the witch?” he spat.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Liora replied.

“So, I have no choice, if I want Korinnae to live?”

“We don’t force people to work for us,” Liora said.

Maldenis quickly spoke up. “Even if you decide to find another place to stay, as long as you keep in touch, we’ll make sure she gets the treatments. But it’s up to you.”

Up to me.

He almost laughed. They made it sound like he had a choice.

“So, what do you say?” Liora asked. “If you join us, Korinnae gets a safe place to stay, and she can make friends.”

“And you speak for your whole group?”

“Yes,” Liora and Maldenis said together.

He let a heartbeat pass. Xanthe would not have hesitated. “Alright. I accept.”

“Great. We can⁠—”

A high-pitched sound cut across the room.

He was at Korinnae’s side in three strides, hand on her shoulder, checking her face for pain. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

Korinnae leaned away from him with a groan she had learned from the older calves. “Uncle Asty, I’m fiiiiine. Ria’s kit opened by itself.”

The witch lifted a dark eyebrow at him. “She’s doing good. Resilient. More than she gets credit for.”

He had to angle his head down to address her, looming over her with his girth and bulk. Yet, she showed no inclination to turn away first. His nostrils flared. “If your magic hurts her in any way⁠—”

“My magic saved her,” Ria said, matter-of-fact, and lifted her chin and held his stare without blinking. “And I will find a cure.”

The rigidity of her stance, the stillness of her hands and the set of her jaw, plus the lack of that sunny warmth made her appear like a completely different person. An unwelcome heat shot through him. He straightened, slowly, and put that spark of attraction away. He had been alone a long time. This reaction was a fluke and meant nothing, and it would continue to mean nothing, and so he returned to the window without another word to make sure of it.