“You journey to Lazarus?” he asked quietly.
“I journey to Specter Isle,” Derrik announced, voice not quiet but still cold, his words sparking Apollo’s ire.
He narrowed his eyes on Derrik, his voice no longer quiet but impatient when he returned, “Don’t be foolish.”
Specter Isle, they’d learned last night, if the conspirator was to be believed, was where Minerva, Baldur, and the two Valearian witches they were conspiring with, Edith and Helda, were hiding.
Seeing Derrik’s jaw set, Apollo kept speaking.
“Last night, I spent half the night writing missives to—”
“And the second half you spent f**king Maddie,” Derrik interrupted him to bite out.
Apollo clenched his teeth.
He didn’t fully understand every word but he didn’t need to in order to understand his meaning.
This was proved when Draven growled, “Careful, Rik.”
Derrik didn’t tear his eyes from Apollo and he knew him well, so he read him.
This made him tip his head to the side in mock curiosity. “Has she not shared that with you? Her world’s word of f**k? It has many uses, brother. When she has a few ales, a few glasses of wine, her tongue loosens.” He threw out an arm to indicate Achilles and Draven. “She shared with all of us the curse words of the other world. That was my particular favorite.”
“Fascinating,” Apollo returned, his word dry.
“Though, I would guess, if you got a few ales in her, with her tongue loose, you’d find other uses for it.”
At that, Apollo growled, Draven did it again, and both of them moved.
Achilles moved as well, but he could only stop Draven.
He didn’t stop Apollo and thus Apollo’s fist connected powerfully with Derrik’s jaw. With satisfaction, he saw his friend’s head flash to the side, blood spraying from his mouth into the snow. After this, Derrik instantly took a step back but lifted his fists, body loose.
Ready.
Apollo didn’t lift his fists. Eyes locked to Derrik, he didn’t give him even that. His friend knew from years of sparring for sport who would be bested in the end. And it would not be Apollo.
Achilles moved between them, arms lifted and he clipped, “Think, brothers.”
He would not think.
He would warn.
“One more word from your mouth like that about Madeleine, you’ll be picking your teeth from the snow.”
“By the gods, you speak of Maddie,” Draven put in angrily. “One more word like that and half the men will be sending your teeth into the snow.”
Derrik dropped his fists and crossed his arms on his chest but said nothing. Through these exchanges, he didn’t take his eyes from Apollo.
Achilles took a tentative step from between the men but he stayed close and suggested, “Let’s move on from this. We should be discussing your journey, Rik. Obviously, Lo agrees with what Draven and I have been trying to impress on you all morning. It’s more than foolhardy.”
Derrik tore his eyes from Apollo to look at Achilles. “I simply go to scout.”
Achilles eyebrows went up. “Alone, without a single man at your back or a witch for protection?” He shook his head. “You know this is reckless. It hardly helps the cause, losing a good man and it definitely wouldn’t help, losing a brother.”
“Nothing will be lost. I’m skilled at it,” Derrik returned and Apollo knew he was not wrong. If they needed a scout, Derrik always led the party. He wasn’t skilled at it. He excelled at it.
But they were talking about a she-god and two witches that were known to wield nearly as much power as Minerva. He’d not even turn his eyes to Specter Isle without being detected.