Wicked (Eternal Guardians #9) - Elisabeth Naughton Page 0,79
as she reached the nymphs and laughed at something one of them said. He still had no idea what was going on, why she was here, or what was responsible for her sudden change in attitude, but he couldn’t seem to make his legs work to go after her and ask.
Because images were spinning in his brain again. Only these visions weren’t of satyrs or a battle. They were of her. Straddling his hips, leaning over him, gazing down into his eyes, then pressing her luscious mouth to his as her body slowly rocked above.
“It’ll never be too late, dios. Not for you and me.”
Those words had been real. Holy fucking Fates. His pulse shot sky high. They’d been real, and they’d been hers.
And she’d called him dios.
Rhen moved up at Zagreus’s side, holding both sheathed weapons. He nodded toward the courtyard. “She’s something else.”
Zagreus’s heart pounded against his ribs. She was. He just wasn’t sure what.
He turned to look at the sileni who commanded his guard. “Why is she here?”
“You don’t remember?”
When Zagreus only stared at him, Rhen smirked. “I guess not.” His expression grew serious. “She got you back to the castle so Nysa could treat your wounds. Told us what happened with the satyrs so we could man a defense. Then she rallied the mages you were training and helped them resolidify the border. I don’t know how she did it. The mages don’t know how she did it. But, somehow, she did. The borders are camouflaged again, and the stone arch is secured.”
Rhen was talking about the magick Zagreus had cast. The magick that must have faltered when he’d made his choice.
His gaze shifted from Rhen to the courtyard, where Talisa was now standing on a ladder, hanging lanterns from the pergola.
She wasn’t a mage. Wasn’t a witch or a sorceress. Had no magickal abilities that he’d sensed. She was just… Argolean. A warrior with the guardian markings, yes, but…
Memories swirled in his mind again. Being in that club with her. The Argonaut who’d called out to her, interrupting them. The brunette who’d rushed in just after.
Talisa had said the Argonaut was her cousin. The brunette, he’d sensed, had been royalty—the queen of Argolea’s daughter. A descendant of the Horae. And Talisa had put herself between Zagreus and them, protecting them with her life as if they were both family.
Links, connections, realizations exploded in Zagreus’s brain. He looked back at Rhen. “What happened after that?”
“After she saved the kingdom from those satyrs?”
“Yes.”
“She came back here with me.”
“She didn’t leave?”
“No, she was too worried about you.”
“Why?”
An amused expression crossed Rhen’s features. “Do you really have to ask?”
Apparently, Zagreus did. But he couldn’t seem to form the words.
“Because she was desperate to save you,” Rhen said as if it was obvious.
Zagreus’s blood heated. He glanced toward Talisa again, smiling and laughing with the nymphs in the fading sunlight.
She didn’t remember him. She never remembered him. But she’d called him dios. And she hadn’t run when she’d had the chance. Then she’d kissed him.
He turned away from her, needing space, needing answers. Needing something to clear his jumbled head.
As he stepped toward the archway that led back into the castle, Rhen said, “Are you all right?”
No, he wasn’t all right. Wasn’t sure he’d ever been all right. But he needed to know if his suspicions were correct before he decided what to do next.
“I’m fine.” He hesitated, shoved the blade in his hand at Rhen, then said, “I have to check something. Make sure this gets back to whoever was outside my door.”
“Okay.” Rhen jostled the blade with the others as Zagreus turned. “By the way, everyone expects you to make an appearance at the feast tonight.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Zagreus muttered, moving from grass to stone, barely hearing Rhen’s words.
Rhen chuckled at his back. “Well, that’s something I never thought I’d see.”
Zagreus bypassed the grand hall and the activity that was already busier than it had been when he’d come down and headed for the curved back stairs. Taking them two at a time, he quickly made his way to his bedchamber, slammed the door at his back, and headed right for his bookshelves.
He knew it was in here somewhere.
His fingers passed over leather tomes, finally stilling when he found what he was looking for.
It had taken several years to replace the library his father had destroyed in the Yucatan. As far as Zagreus was concerned, knowledge was more important than possessions. In his world, knowing your enemies strengths and