breath came in rapid pulls. Fear burst inside him, hotter than his anger, more desperate than his will to survive.
He might be the son of Anathrasa, but he would not be a weapon. He would not tear souls away like she had done to Cassia and Stavos. He would not fill gods with energeia just so they would turn and invade countries like Ash’s.
Determination quieted the raging of his soul. For the first time since Cassia had been taken, he knew what he had to do.
He had to fight for Deimos. Not Geoxus’s power-hungry ideal. Not Petros’s corrupt reality. The Deimos that had raised him, that pressed gemstones into its doorways, and always smelled of olives and fresh earth, and stained his clothes with gray mortar and his heart with laughter.
The Deimos that had given him the Metaxas.
“No?” Geoxus asked again, incredulous. “Perhaps you have misunderstood, Madoc. This isn’t a choice. You are my champion. You belong to me.”
The floor began to shake with Geoxus’s temper. Sand sifted from the ceiling above.
Ash released Madoc. He glanced her way, and when her stare met his, hard and ready, he felt a piece of his soul slide into the palm of her hand.
There was no igneia here, but she would fight with only her bare hands, like the first time they had met. And if they died, they would die together.
“No,” Madoc said. “I don’t.”
Geoxus raised his arm, and Madoc braced for the onslaught of stone that was sure to come. He raised his hands before him, unsure what he would do, only knowing that a great storm of energeia was swirling inside him, begging to be unleashed.
“Guards!” Geoxus called. “Take my gladiator to the palace!”
In an instant, a swarm of silver and black shoved through the broken door, weapons drawn. They cut across the room, knocking over benches and chairs in their path.
Ash lowered to a crouch, hands outstretched. Her eyes narrowed to slits. Her ferocity fed him. Soothed him. Silenced his fear.
He inhaled, slowing his heart, and wrapped his mind around a single word.
Stop.
The guards at the front of the attack froze, those behind tripping over them.
Stop.
Those on the floor scrambled up, confusion on their faces. They looked at the weapons in their hands as if they couldn’t remember why they’d drawn them.
Power pulsed in Madoc. Finally, it whispered over Geoxus’s howl of anger.
But to his left, out of the corner of his vision, he caught movement. The subtle flick of Anathrasa’s wrist.
He realized, one moment too late, what she intended to do.
Dropping his hold on the guards, Madoc yanked Ash toward him, pivoting to place himself between her and Anathrasa, but it was too late. Ash bucked in his arms, her spine bowed taut, her head thrown back. Her mouth opened in a silent scream.
“Stop!” he shouted at Anathrasa, gripping Ash tighter. “Leave her alone!”
“I will not play these games,” the Mother Goddess hissed. “When I’m done, there will be nothing for you to bring back, Madoc.”
Ash’s teeth began to chatter. “Madoc?” Her voice was strained.
Her fear pumped into him, and he took it, transforming it into his own usable power supply. He would make the guards destroy Anathrasa—he didn’t care who she was. He’d turn the entire city on Geoxus and Petros.
Madoc spun, still holding Ash against his side. The glow of the stones in the walls was too bright. The scent of the food was too rich and turned his stomach. His anathreia roared, hungry. He lifted his hand, but Ash screamed and slumped against his side.
“Get them!” Geoxus shouted. “Take them both!”
The guards were on him before he could react. One struck him in the side, the sharp jab of pain thrusting the breath from his lungs. His knees were swiped out from behind, and he fell hard to the ground. He grabbed at Ash’s arms as a kick landed against his side, but they slid through his hold, cold and limp.
“Ash!” Panic seared him. He scrambled across the floor toward her, but they were already dragging her away.
“Don’t listen to them!” she screamed, her voice thin with pain.
The metal hilt of a knife came down hard on the back of his head, making the room go dim and black around the edges. All sounds muffled as if he were underwater. He blinked, but Ash was gone. There was only Geoxus, standing over him, and the silver glint of centurion metal wavering on the edge of his focus.