Sherrilyn Kenyon - Dark Bites

“We will be careful. Even if I have to hogtie Galen.”

His father kissed each of his cheeks then moved to do the same with his brother. “I always knew I’d lose you to Misos, but I’d hoped to have more years with you before you left for war. A score of years just isn’t enough. Take care of your brother, Galen. Let no harm befall him or you.”

“I will, Papsi .” His eyes gleaming with joy and eagerness, Galen grabbed his sword and pack, and headed for the door.

Aricles sighed as he swept his gaze around the room he’d shared with Galen and Perseus, who was off with his Julia. At ten-and-six, his baby brother was as much a slave to his heart as Galen was to his libido. He hated that he wouldn’t have a chance to say good-bye to him. “Tell Perseus I will miss him and to not dawdle with his lessons.”

His father smiled. “Take care, m’gios .”

“And you, Papsi. ” Aricles hugged him one last time before he followed Galen to where the goddess and her servant waited for them.

“You look like you haven’t had a bowel movement in a month,” Malphas said as soon as he saw him.

Scowling, Aricles wasn’t sure what to make of the man who would be their trainer and commander.

Galen snorted. “He always looks that way. He was born constipated.” His brother reached for him. “Come, Ari, be young for once in your life.”

“I tried your recklessness once and found it exhausting. Melancholy suits me just fine.”

Malphas laughed. “So where’s your xiphos?”

“I don’t have one.”

“He always uses a piece of wood to spar with me.”

Grunting his displeasure, Malphas inclined his head to his goddess. “I guess we’re ready.”

One moment they were out in the woods, and in the next, they were inside a temple the likes of which Aricles had never seen. Made of solid gold, it glistened all around him. Bright-colored images and geometric designs were painted all over the gold.

“Where are we?” he asked.

The goddess folded her hands in front of her. “Thebes, in Egypt. This is my main temple. My father’s is next door.”

“Your father?”

“Set.”

Aricles’s eyes widened. While he knew few gods outside of his native Atlantean pantheon, Set was one everyone knew. Said to be the most ferocious god in existence, the god of chaos even terrified his own family. “I didn’t think he could have children.”

“I wasn’t born to him. I was created for him.”

“I don’t understand.”

Malphas snorted. “After Set had a little emotional breakdown that cost several gods their body parts and lives, the primal Source decided that they needed to give him something else to focus on and make him happy.” He gestured to Bathymaas. “What better than a beautiful, emotionless daughter to watch over?”

Galen flashed a grin to Aricles. “What better, indeed?”

Malphas passed a look of warning to Galen. “Put it back in your loincloth, punkin’. Our goddess is a virgin and is to remain so. She wouldn’t even know what to do with a kiss so don’t try for one unless you want to meet the bad end of my sword and her father’s fury.”

Galen grimaced. “Pity, and noted.”

Malphas led them to a room where four other men were lounging about. “Welcome to the Ēperon. We have two warriors from each mortal race.” He jerked his chin to the two men who were dicing. One was a mountainous beast who made a mockery of the brothers’ six-foot-six stature. For that matter, one of his beefy arms was easily the same diameter as Bathymaas’s waist. He wore his long golden-blond hair braided down his back. The other was well muscled, too, and probably stood two to three inches taller than the brothers. His white-blond hair was cropped short and he had a full beard. “Representing the Apollite race we have Haides.” He was the larger of the two. “And Hector.”

They exchanged pleasantries as Malphas indicated the man on his bed, who was reading a scroll. He had black hair and eyes and a full shaggy beard that was the same length as his hair. “Our humans are the philosophical Monokles, and,” he gestured to the one who was sharpening his sword, “Phelix.” He had bright red hair that fell just past his ears.

Malphas clapped Galen on his shoulder. “Warriors, meet our Atlanteans. Galen and Aricles.”

Haides narrowed his eyes on them. “How do we tell them apart?”

Galen grinned. “I’m the one who’s actually alive and likes to partake of fun activities. Aricles seldom smiles and will most likely be discussing philosophy with Monokles.”

Aricles kept his features blank. “And I’ll be the one spanking Galen’s ass during training.”

Hector laughed wholeheartedly. “I like them already.” He indicated a vacant chair to his right. “Stow your gear and join us.”

Aricles took Galen’s things. “Go on. I’ll take care of it.”

As always, Galen didn’t hesitate to accept his offer.

While he went to game, Aricles looked at Malphas. “Which beds are ours?”

“The two under the window. Your training will begin an hour after dawn. Have a good night and remember, no bloodshed in the goddess’s temple. Save it for the battlefield.” Malphas left them to get acquainted.

Aricles went to put their personal effects in the chest between their beds. Listening to his brother jest with his two new friends, he pulled out his small knife and the piece of wood he’d started carving four days ago. It was a vague feminine figure. He hadn’t seen the carving’s face clearly.

Until today.

He’d started it as an offering for one of the goddesses of his homeland, but now… Bathymaas would be perfect for it. Seeing her regal grace in the wood, he began reworking the piece.

After a few minutes, Monokles came over to watch him. “You make that look easy. How long have you been a carver?”

“Since the summer I first stayed with my grandfather in Ena. It was something he would do every night, after chores were finished. I was four or five, and he’d hold me in his lap and patiently instruct me.”

“I never knew my grandfathers. One was a Greek hero who died in battle when my father was a boy, and the other was a cavalry officer who perished at war while my mother carried me. What of yours? Was he a retired officer?”

Aricles shook his head. “He was a simple farmer, as his father was before him. By nature, Atlanteans are peaceful… with the peculiar exception of my brother, who was corrupted in his youth by a friend who told him too many Greek tales.”

Monokles went rigid. “Is that a swipe at me?”

“Not at all, good Monokles. You have every right to be very proud of your soldier family. As I am of mine who toiled their farms. My insult was directed to my twin, solely. He thinks the rest of his family members are backwoods rubes because we would rather till the soil than make war with our neighbors.”

Those words seemed to puzzle him. “Yet you’re here. Why?”

Aricles shrugged. “Our place is not to question the will of the gods. But rather to do our best to honor them, our ancestors, and ourselves.”

Monokles scowled. “How old are you?”

“Twenty, and you?”

“A decade older, and yet you speak like a sage ancient.”

Galen snorted. “That’s because my brother was born an old man. He came from our mother’s womb spouting wisdom, and with more patience than any mortal man should ever possess. He should have been a priest.”

“Is that true?” Monokles asked. “Would you have preferred priesthood?”

“Probably, but at the time to take vows, I had other obligations.” He’d been in love with Claudia and had planned on marrying her. To pay her father’s bridal price, he’d been working three jobs in addition to his home chores.