Warrior Queen - Karpov Kinrade Page 0,3

swing my legs out of bed and when I stand, I no longer wobble. Already my strength is returning, and a sudden scene from the past, from my days as a god, plays out within my mind.

An eagle pecking out my liver.

Every day.

Over and over.

The pain was unbearable and unending.

My only moment of peace came when Apollo arrived as a white raven, attacking the eagle Zeus sent. After banishing the bird, Apollo resumed his natural form to use his arrow to heal my body, and for a brief time, I could rest.

Until the eagle arrived again the next day.

That part never made it into the myths. Lily Lemon wouldn’t have known this. Only Prometheus. The memory guts me, and when I look back up at Apollo, I can tell he’s followed my thoughts.

"We have a long history, you and I," he says, immeasurable depths of sadness reflecting in his eyes. "I can only hope our past might afford me some grace for my mistakes now."

Despite everything, my heart softens towards him. None of us are entirely innocent, are we? After thousands of years, things are so entwined, so messy. So very gray instead of black and white.

His light is virtually gone, and his skin looks ashen.

I frown, my concern returning with a rush. "Can't you heal yourself? Can’t you use your arrow?"

"Alas, but no. My arrows cannot counter themselves." He leans forward and takes my hand in his. "Prometheus—Lily—help me. If not for me, help the people of our world. Of both worlds."

"What must I do?" I ask.

"Stop Epimetheus. Stop his madness. He’ll destroy everything in this world. He’s too powerful. And though I never thought this possible, he’s worse than Zeus himself.”

I nod grimly.

"I knew I could count on you, my friend." He closes his eyes and leans back in his chair.

The raven startles me by swooping over my head to settle on his shoulder. I’d forgotten the bird’s existence. I watch as it places its cheek against Apollo’s.

“Farewell, my friend,” the sun god whispers.

“Farewell,” the bird croons in reply.

I jerk, startled the bird can talk, but really, I shouldn’t be surprised. The Greek myths are filled with talking animals.

For a few moments, they sit there, god and beast, in some silent communion of the soul. Then, Apollo breathes out a long breath and when he opens his eyes again, I can see his light, his life, fading even more.

He takes his bow and arrows and hands them to me, his hands shaking so badly he nearly drops them all. "Take these and use them with wisdom. Find my sister, Artemis. She will help you. Tell her the berries of Elysium were sweetest when we were children playing in their fields. She will know I sent you."

He closes his eyes again, longer this time, his breath slowing, and something inside me clenches in a grief that belongs more to Prometheus than Lily. When his eyes open, I know it’s for the last time.

"Take Nefeli, my raven," he says, nudging her off his shoulder until she spreads her wings and flies to me. "She can aid you in your quest."

The raven’s talons are sharp as she anchors herself on my shoulder, but she’s so light it feels as if she’s barely there. She doesn’t move as I bend to take Apollo’s hand in mine.

His eyes close and already, his breath is shallow. He doesn’t last long. In minutes, his lungs heave for the final time, and his soul retreats into the mortal world for a rebirth of its own kind.

I stay with him awhile longer, the Prometheus part of me clinging to the friendship shared with this beautiful man, even as my life as Lily simmers with anger at the sequence of events he set in motion. Because of him, my family’s hearts were broken over my untimely death. Do they still weep? My heart tells me they do. Every night.

Eventually, I straighten and prepare myself for what must happen next.

It’s time to fight Clay. Stop him. Rescue the gods, too. After I free Mirk, Torak, and Ladron from whatever prison Clay has stuck them inside, of course. And to accomplish all that, I’ll need allies.

I smile. Fortunately, Prometheus has many friends here in the Dungeons. I pick up my whip resting on the foot of the bed. The Mortal Coil. The Spear of Truth and the Sword of Destiny rest nearby. They’re more than just fancy names. They have purposes, but Prometheus’ memories offer me nothing more than that.

“Let’s