The Warrior King (Inferno Rising #3) - Abigail Owen Page 0,95

Rain and smoke.

Gorgon.

The men turned and formed a wall. Against their own. Regardless of the hundreds of years he’d led them, fought at their sides.

“Let him through.”

Seven hells. Was that his king’s voice? Gorgon sounded as though a razor blade had been taken to his vocal cords.

The men parted, and Samael, ignoring the suspicion ripe in the room, got his first clear look at the king. Gorgon was black and blue from head to toe, bruising gone deep and much of it in various stages of healing. Which meant whoever had taken him had beaten him, let him heal partially, and then done it again. Over and over. The man had also lost weight, his face dramatically thinner, cheekbones protruding.

“Samael.” Gorgon reached out a hand, and he crossed to the man who had been like a second father to him. “Why do they protect me from you?”

Instant burning lanced through the skin on his hand. He didn’t need to look to know that Gorgon’s mark had returned. What did that mean? “They don’t know what to believe.”

“Why?”

Quickly he filled his leader in on what had happened in the days—had it only been days?—since the mating ceremony. Not everything. He left out his mating the woman who was meant to be Gorgon’s queen. Telling him now wouldn’t be right. Not while the king was in this condition.

“When were you taken, my lord?” Samael asked.

Gorgon’s eyebrows raised, probably at the “my lord,” then he winced and consciously relaxed his face. “After the ceremony when I talked to Brand and Ladon privately—they left me in the chamber, I don’t remember why. All it took was a minute. Someone hit me from behind. I have no idea how they got in or out. My guess is Pytheios’s witch.”

Fuck. Could that explain how Brock had been tracking them, too? If she could do that inside Ben Nevis, after expending the energy to do that flame thing, nothing could stop the false High King.

“Where is Meira now?” Gorgon asked.

“She’s here. Safe.” He left out the bit about Maul and the dungeon.

“I want to see her.”

Samael searched for the nearest mirror and, finding one, gave a nod. The men around him tensed until, from the large, ornate mirror propped against one wall, Meira appeared, stepping out of the glass like Aphrodite must’ve stepped out of the sea when she was created. He’d had no doubt that she’d have the hellhound transport her to a place from which she could watch when he was removed from the dungeons. Samael spotted Maul behind her waiting in the room beyond. His own room.

The men shifted on their feet, no doubt realizing now that she could have gotten out any time she wanted. Samael shot Amun a look, and the other man crossed his arms with a glare.

For her part, Meira’s gaze skittered over the men in the room, pausing on Samael for a heartbeat before she moved to the bedside. With a gentle smile followed by a grimace of pain, Gorgon reached for her hand, and she sat on the edge of the bed to take it. Samael deliberately stepped back. Either that or gnaw his king’s hand off for touching her, his dragon going wild in his head at what he was watching and the thoughts now screaming in his mind.

“I need to explain everything,” Gorgon said.

She shook her head. “I heard through the mirror.”

“I’m sorry—”

“This is not your fault. This is Pytheios.” A quick, unreadable glance at Samael, and he took another step back. Meira’s eyes turned darker blue than they already were, but she turned away from him in silence, disappointment written into every line of her tense body. But he couldn’t help that. Now he had to be strong for both of them.

“We have no time to waste,” Gorgon said. “We must complete our mating now.”

The seven hells collapsed in on Samael, raining fire and brimstone down on his head, even as he stood in total silence in a room filled with those loyal to the man on the bed. Himself included.

He waited for her to reveal their secret. Tell the king she was taken. But that was dangerous.

“You must rest.” She softened the words with a smile.

Gorgon coughed. “Pytheios has successfully mated the woman named Tisiphone. She appears to be a legitimate phoenix. All the signs were in place. I witnessed the coupling myself.”

The king paled and suddenly spasmed into a fit of coughing that racked his body, pain evident in every accompanying grimace and