Elisabeth Naughton - Entwined

“Zander. Wait up.”

He ignored Titus and kept going. Head down to block the wind. Temper and self-loathing warming his blood. Yeah, he was in the mood for a major-ass pounding. And if he didn’t get away from Titus quick, he wasn’t gonna care that the Argonaut was friend, not foe.

He made it thirty yards into the trees before the miserably cold temperature went bone-jarring frigid.

He came to a standstill. His head darted up. Ahead and to the right, six daemons stalked through the trees, obviously on patrol themselves. Searching for half-breeds to decimate.

A slow smile spread across his face—the first he’d felt in days. All were easily seven feet tall, with horns and fangs, catlike faces, dog-shaped ears and the bodies of men. Really big-ass, don’t-mess-with-me ugly men you might meet in a dark alley on the wrong side of town after hours, looking for nothing but trouble. His smile only widened.

“Just who I was looking for. You freaks want to come out and play or stand there and look stupid like your bitch of a leader, Atalanta? ’Cause you know, you do it so well. In fact, I see the family resemblance. You there, in front.” He pointed toward the ugliest one, with something vile dripping from its fangs. “You’re like, what? Her brother? No, I know.” He snapped his fingers. “Her son.”

The one in front, the one clearly in charge, looked at Zander and growled, “Argonaut,” then sniffed the air and added, “Two.” The other five daemons spread out in a U formation, surrounding Zander, then crouched, ready to strike.

And yep, that was indeed steam coming out of the leader’s ears. Hot damn. This was gonna be a good one. Six against one. Maybe he could get his ass kicked once and for all. And maybe he could take a few daemons out with him in the process.

Titus jogged up behind him just as Zander reached for his parazonium—the ancient Greek dagger all Argonauts carried—from the scabbard hidden at his back. “Aw, hell. You just had to go and antagonize them, didn’t you?”

“Sure as shit, I did.”

Titus reached for his own dagger. “Okay, smart guy. Which ones do you want?”

“All of them.”

“Zander—”

“Just stay back until I need you,” he growled. “I can’t die, remember? You can.”

He took a step into the melee and ignored Titus’s protest, but knew the Argonaut would listen and let him have the first go. If only for a few moments. Hopefully, that’s all it would take to end this for good.

“Come on, motherfuckers. Show me what you’ve got.”

With a roar, the daemons bared their fangs and charged.

This was one family squabble Callia definitely didn’t want to be a part of.

“This is ridiculous. Isadora, tell him no!” Casey Simopo-lous turned in exasperation toward her half-sister, the future queen of Argolea.

From the far side of the extravagant bedroom suite, Callia chanced a sideways glance toward Isadora. The princess stood with her blonde head down, studying something between her pale pink slippers. Her hands were clenched behind her back, the gossamer pink dress all but swallowing her fragile frame. The perfect picture of submission. Not once had she flinched since her father, the dying King Leonidas, had issued his dire announcement.

This was their soon-to-be queen. This waiflike gynaíka who would rule over their land, command the Argonauts and lead them in this dangerous time of war. Atalanta was roaming the human realm, looking for a way to destroy the half-breeds and cross into Argolea to exact her ultimate revenge for being cast out of the Argonauts. Now more than ever it was imperative they have a leader with resolve.

But that clearly wasn’t Isadora. Callia had suspected that for a while. And she couldn’t help wondering if maybe Leonidas’s decree was best for everyone after all.

“Isadora, you cannot let him do this to you,” Casey said louder, stepping toward her sister. “This is archaic!”

“Enough!” the king rasped, attempting to sit up higher in the pillows of his gigantic four-poster bed.

Ignoring the buzzing in her head that had been going on for the last ten minutes, Callia set down her instruments and eased over to help him shift up in the bed.

The king frowned, irritated he needed any kind of help, but he didn’t fight Callia. Today his mind was clear and he was making use of it while he could. “Isadora will marry by the next full moon. And that is final.”

Casey’s jaw twitched. “It’s not right and you know it.”

The king’s head swiveled toward his dark-haired daughter—the one who would never be queen, simply because her mother had been human, even though Casey was the stronger and wiser choice and they all knew it—and he squinted to see clearer. Callia knew he saw nothing more than dark fuzzy shapes. “Isadora’s binding to a guardian of my choosing will ensure the Council cannot overrule her authority. You already commandeered my first choice, Acacia. You do not have a say in whom I choose to replace him.”

A heavy silence settled over the room. One Callia felt all the way to her bones. She knew all too well about domineering, controlling patéres . And she knew when they laid down the law, there was very little for a gynaíka to do but obey. Silently, she cursed their patriarchal society that gave females the opportunity to be anything they wanted so long as the male in guardianship over them approved.

Isadora still did not lift her head or look to either her father or sister. And though Callia and Isadora had never been close, a part of Callia went out to the princess. A part she didn’t want to acknowledge or dredge up.

Ready to be done with the family drama, Callia gathered the rest of her things and snapped her bag closed. As personal healer to the king, she’d spent a fair share of her time here lately, making him comfortable, seeing to his maladies during his last few months, but she didn’t relish it a bit. Especially not when she had a headache like this one. And every time she came to the castle there was the chance she’d run into an Argonaut. Which was a rendezvous she avoided at all costs. “I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow morning.”

His gnarled hand snaked out and snagged her arm before she got a step away. Even at 684 years and with his body finally giving out from old age, he was still strong. Stronger than most. “I’ll need you to stay.”

Anxiety pricked Callia’s skin. “That’s not necessary, Your Highness. And I have work at the clinic I really have to get back to.”

“The new moon is but a week away. After I make the announcement to the Argonauts, I’ll need you to verify my choice is in peak physical shape. I need to know he can sire an heir immediately. You’ll use my office for the exam.”

Callia darted a look at Isadora, who, if possible, hung her head even lower. How great it must feel to be seen as nothing but a breeding machine.

But, oh, good gods. Callia had worse things to worry about right now. The king wanted her to perform a physical exam. On the Argonaut of his choosing. Today. She could think of a thousand other tortures she’d prefer to this one. “Um. I’m sure another time would be—”

“It is not a request.” He released her hand and barked, “Althea!”

His maidservant scurried into the room with a bow. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Get me Demetrius. He’s with the Executive Guard at the portal, training the newest recruits. I want him and the rest of the Argonauts assembled here within the hour.”

Althea’s eyes widened with the same anxiety suddenly spiking Callia’s chest. “All of them, Your Majesty?”

He waved off her question with a weak flick of his wrist. “Go. Now.”

“Um, Your Highness,” Callia started as Althea rushed from the room. “I really think—”