Entwined

Chapter Sixteen

Callia’s stomach pitched as Zander stepped into the room. The always-confident guardian looked like death warmed over. Not physically—physically he was as strong and healthy as ever, his wounds from that cave nothing but a memory—but emotionally. His eyes were flat, his step heavy, his blond hair disheveled as if he’d run his fingers through it numerous times. An unseen weight seemed to press down on his shoulders and permeate the room around him, one Callia felt all the way to her bones.

She’d never thought of him as old. To the average human he looked like a sexy, rugged thirty-five-year-old in the prime of his life. But he wasn’t. He was 829 years old. And today—right now—all those years seemed to flicker in his stormy gray-blue eyes, reminding her of everything he’d done and seen and been.

“Lena said you checked out fine.”

Callia’s pulse pounded as she studied him. He was wearing the traditional black fighting pants—the same ones Titus had brought for him in that cave. The long-sleeved white Henley showcased his muscular arms and pecs and shielded all but the tips of his Argonaut markings down his fingers. Light stubble covered his square jaw, as if he hadn’t shaved in days, and the faint scars on his knuckles, his throat, the little bits of skin exposed here and there only added to his mystery and intrigue.

Gods, he really was beautiful. Even scarred from all those years of fighting. She remembered the first time she’d seen him. Nearly eleven years ago. She’d been thirty—adulthood for a human, a mere child for an Argolean. The king had specifically asked her to take over as royal healer, a position her mother had held years before, until her death. She’d been at the castle, overwhelmed yet trying to look like she had a clue, when she’d passed Theron and Zander in the hall on their way up to see the king.

Her heart had stuttered then—much as it did now—and she’d felt like she couldn’t breathe. He’d always had that effect on her. And it had only intensified, building until the night he’d pulled her into the king’s study and she’d thrown aside everything she’d ever learned about balance and order and given in to desire.

He stuffed his hands into the back pockets of his pants but didn’t move. It was clear he didn’t know what to say or do, and in the silence, Callia’s pulse picked up to the beat of a marching band. She wasn’t sure why he was still here, but one thing was clear: he felt guilty. And that was something she couldn’t deal with.

“Zander, you don’t need to stay. I’m fine. You don’t owe me—”

“Did I ever tell you about my mother?”

The strange comment cut off Callia’s words. The intensity of his gaze told her whatever was on his mind was important, and maybe she should listen. “No,” she said slowly. “I don’t think so.”

“She worked at the castle.” He crossed to sit next to her on the bed, though he was careful not to touch her. “This was the twelfth century, so things were quite a bit different. Archidmus was king and the Council had way more sway over the monarchy then—over the population in general.” He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees and kept his eyes downcast. “Her name was Khloe and she was a teacher. She taught the king’s children and some whose parents worked in the castle. She was bound to a scholar named Alastor. His older brother served as the family’s representative to the Twelve.

“They had no young, and had only been bound for a handful of years when my father, Nikator, came across her in the castle one day.”

The way he said the Argonaut’s name sent a shiver down Callia’s spine. She knew he thought little of the ándras who had given him life, but he’d never talked much about him, and she’d never asked. The rumors about Nikator were well-known throughout the kingdom, though, and those rumors were part of the reason her father had objected to her relationship with Zander in the first place. Nikator had lived up to his name—the conqueror—in every aspect imaginable. He’d been a brutal fighter in and out of battle, an ándras who lived outside the law and took what he wanted without remorse. Often by force.

Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to hear the rest of this story.

Zander clasped his hands, and though he looked down at the floor, Callia was sure he was seeing hundreds of years into the past, not the thick cotton threads of the rug beneath his feet. “I like to think that it was consensual. That they met and had a connection.” Like us, she knew he wanted to say, but didn’t. “But I know that wasn’t the truth. She wound up pregnant, and knowing how the Council would view”—he swallowed, visibly sickened—“her rape…as adultery and not the crime it was, she did the only thing she thought she could do.

“She found a witch in the mountains who helped her get rid of it. Get rid of me.” He held his hands out in front of him, palms down so the ancient Argolean text that ran down his fingers was visible. “Only it didn’t work. Even back then, in the womb, I couldn’t be killed.”

Callia’s breath caught. And she remembered his words that day she’d told him she was pregnant. Do not hurt my child. If you don’t want him, I’ll take him. But whatever you do, promise me you will not do something drastic.

He’d seemed so angry. So untrusting. And his words had stung, because yeah, she’d been freaked by the news herself, but she’d been so over the moon in love with him then, she hadn’t understood how he could jump to conclusions she hadn’t even yet contemplated.

“Three times,” he said, still staring at his hands. “Three times she tried to get rid of me, but it never worked.” He reached up and ran a finger down his neck where the long jagged scar puckered his skin. “I was born with this.”

Callia’s stomach rolled. She closed her eyes as their conversation in the cave came back like a slap in the face.

And what am I?

A murderer.

“She ended up having me in secret,” he went on. “The witch who delivered me saw the markings on my arms and hands and alerted the Argonauts. And though none of it was her fault, my mother knew the Council was going to punish her, badly, because of her link to them.” He hesitated, stared down at the carpet, then quietly added, “She killed herself a week after I was born.”

“Oh, Zander—”

The bed moved, and the brush of his fingers against her cheek brought her eyes open. He was kneeling in front of her, his handsome face marred with lines of worry and regret, and the sheen of tears she saw in his eyes nearly broke her. “I didn’t know. I thought…”

He paused, swallowed hard, seemed to gather his thoughts. His hand slid down to cover hers in her lap and his eyes followed. “I never wanted to be an Argonaut. These damn markings, they’ve dictated my life from the start. And I’ve served with so many. Some who were complete asses like my father and made me wonder what the hell I was even fighting for. And then Theron’s father came along—Solon—and things started to change. The guys I serve with now are decent. They’re not like the Argonauts of the past. Even Demetrius isn’t half as bad as some. When you told me you were pregnant, I couldn’t just leave Theron in the lurch. I owed him too much. I left you to make arrangements so another could be chosen in my place. But it never got that far.”

She dreaded what he would say next but needed to hear it.

“Your father found me at the castle and told me you’d changed your mind and that you’d gone to the human realm to end your pregnancy.”

Callia’s eyes shot up to his, and she watched slowly as he shook his head. “I didn’t believe him. So I tracked you down. I found the clinic. A nurse told me it was already done and that you were gone. Your records confirmed it.”

“I never—”

“I know,” he said. “I know now. I should have known then that you wouldn’t do something like that without talking to me, but I was filled with so much”—he looked around the room—“rage.” He ran his free hand over his scalp. “Sometimes it controls me. And when you didn’t come back, when weeks stretched to months and then to years, I let that belief sink in. I figured you really had wanted something else after all.”

All these years he thought she’d been the one to walk away. When that was the farthest thing from the truth.

Tears burned her eyes. Tears she thought she was done crying. “I went to the human realm to try to save our baby, Zander. I didn’t…I wouldn’t…”

He squeezed her hand. “I know.”

Emotions flooded her, overwhelmed her, pinched her chest so hard it was tough to get air. She let go of his hand and pushed up to stand, needing to do something physical before the pain and disbelief pulled her under. She crossed to the window, reached out and rested her hand on the cool rock wall. “My father told me about that meeting between you two. But he said you were the one who changed your mind. That you decided you didn’t want to leave the Argonauts after all.”

Dear gods, she’d believed her father. Believed what he’d said. Even begged the ándras to tell Zander where she was in Greece in case he realized he’d made a mistake and wanted her or their child after all. No wonder he’d never come for her.

“He never wanted us to be together,” he said quietly behind her.

No, he hadn’t. Simon hated the Argonauts with a vengeance. So much so, Callia often wondered where the vehemence came from. It wasn’t just Zander as a person her father disapproved of. It was his link to the Argonauts and what they stood for.

“He…” Anger burned hot behind her eyes, as hot as the deception she felt in her heart over what her father had done.

She felt Zander at her back, even before his hands settled on her arms and he turned her to face him. But she didn’t look up. Couldn’t face what she knew was in his eyes. When he pulled her close, she rested her head against his chest. Didn’t even try to fight the gentle embrace.

“If I had known,” he said in a voice thick with emotion, “I would have been there with you. Every second. Nothing would have kept me away. And no one…” His muscles tensed against her. “No one would have ever hurt you.”

She didn’t know what to say. Wasn’t sure she could have this conversation now. Didn’t know if she ever could.

“Callia.” His fingers slid into her hair and he tipped her face up to his gently. But it wasn’t anger that plagued his features. It was regret. And sorrow. And a grief only she could understand. “Thea.”

The use of the nickname he’d given her all those years before touched a place deep inside she’d closed off from the world. Goddess. He’d told her once he considered her his own personal goddess. She’d believed him. Then hated him. And now…didn’t know what to think.

When he eased down to brush his lips over hers she froze. Didn’t pull back. Wasn’t sure if she even could. This—as crazy as it was—this felt right. They’d both lost so much, and she’d been grieving for years, never knowing until now that part of the reason she continued to hurt was because she’d never shared that grief with him.

His hands slipped down her hair to her shoulders, around to pull her closer. The brush of skin against cloth vibrated through her body. She sighed against his mouth, tipped her head and opened for him on reflex.

The kiss was slow and gentle. He slid his tongue into her mouth, stroked hers leisurely, like he had all the time in the world, as if tasting her for the first time and savoring every moment. And she found herself responding, bringing her arms up to his chest, giving him whatever he asked for, telling herself in the back of her mind this wasn’t rekindling something that never should have happened in the first place. This was closure. Consoling each other. Finally letting go of the past once and for all.

His lips moved languidly over her jaw, to her ear, and she shuddered at the warm breath blowing across her skin and down her throat. “You’re so strong, thea,” he whispered in her ear. “Such a fighter. When I think about what could have happened to you…”

His words pinged around in her brain as she breathed in his scent. And then, as if they found their mark, a memory lit off in her mind. A memory from that hunting cabin with the daemon who had nearly killed her.

A fighter, I see.

Followed by Atalanta’s voice.

She’s the boy’s mother. Bring her. If the boy doesn’t cooperate, she might become useful after all.

Her chest squeezed tight all over again. Only this time it wasn’t with grief and pain, it was with shock and a really bad feeling. It couldn’t be…

“What?” Zander asked. He pushed her back, his eyebrows drawn together to form a crease between his stormy eyes.

The explanation her father had given her after the birth joined in the chaos. An earthquake in the Peloponnese. The doctor unable to make it to her cottage due to the destruction. Complications with the delivery. Her, unconscious. A stillborn child. Aftershocks so strong they crumpled the house.

Her father had told her he’d only had enough time to get her and himself to safety. He hadn’t been able to save her son’s body from the rubble. She’d never even seen his face.

“No.” She whispered the word, covered her mouth with her hand. Stared at Zander as links fell into place.

“Callia?” He gripped her shoulders, the questions in his eyes turning to dread. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” She swallowed hard, dropped her hand. Barely believed what she was about to say. But somehow, in some way, it felt like the truth. “I think my father lied to us about everything. Zander, I think our son might still be alive.”

Max knew Fort Nelson was the first place Atalanta would send her monsters to look for him, so he stayed in the woods and crossed the river well downstream. It had snowed recently, but the Fort Nelson fork wasn’t yet frozen, though the water was colder than Atalanta’s bitter wasteland.

The metal disk warmed his chest as he moved, and though he couldn’t be sure, it almost felt like that warmth was trickling down into his limbs as well.

Super cool.

He climbed out of the river on the other side, shivered and ducked into the trees. He couldn’t wait too long—he had to keep moving—but he needed a minute to catch his breath. Sitting near the base of a tree, he pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around his legs and tried to warm himself. A water droplet dripped down from the top of his head. He watched it splash on his forearm, then evaporate into the air.

He looked closer. Watched the next droplet hit and disappear as well.

Freaky.

Easing back, he glanced at his arms. They were already dry. Then at his legs, where his jeans were nearly dry as well. Against his chest the disk burned hot but didn’t sear his skin. His sweatshirt was now only slightly damp and his coat was wet just at the sleeves. He reached up and touched the disk with his fingers, smiled and knew then it really did have magic inside.

He scrambled to his feet with a burst of energy he’d lacked before. Then he hiked another mile to the Alaska Highway and hid out in the brush until he saw the headlights of a semitruck far off in the distance.

Confidence breathed new life into him, and he stepped out onto the side of the road, waving his arms.

The lights barreled closer. With the layer of ice covering the road he wasn’t even sure the truck could stop. But then the whine of gears shifting down met his ears, and the truck slowed to stop twenty feet in front of him.

He ran toward the cab, around to the driver’s side. Slowly, the window lowered. Max squinted to look up at the human face peering back.

“You lost, boy?”

“Um…” Now what? “No. Not exactly.”

The man perched his arm on the window ledge and leaned over to get a good look at Max. “That coat won’t keep you very warm out here. Temps are droppin’ like twenties in a strip club. Where you come from, boy?”

“Uh…” He couldn’t say Fort Nelson. He thought about what little he knew of this area. “Alaska.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Alaska, huh? How’d you get all the way out here?”

“I walked.”

The man looked him over again, seemed to focus on his face. And the hair on the back of Max’s neck stood straight under that scrutinizing gaze. “You runnin’ away from some-thin’?”

Sweat broke out on Max’s brow. “No.”

“Uh-huh,” the man said, unconvincingly. “How’d you get that bruise?”

Max ran his fingers over his left cheekbone. The only thing he could think of was when he’d attacked Zelus earlier. “I…I don’t know.”

The man harrumphed. Then finally nodded toward the passenger side of the truck. “Get in.”

Max’s eyebrows shot up. He stood frozen for a split second before racing around the front of the truck and climbing up the tall steps. Once inside, the heat of the cab instantly warmed his last cold spots.

The trucker stared over at him. The man was probably in his fifties, with thinning hair on top, a round belly and cal-lused hands that had seen a lot of work. “Name’s Jeb. I run the West Coast route for a small company in Vancouver. Where you headed, boy?”

Max twisted his hands in his lap. He hadn’t thought too far ahead. Where could he go? He’d heard Atalanta and Thanatos talk about a half-breed colony down south. “Oregon.”

“What’s in Oregon?”

Max knew not to be too secretive. But he wasn’t about to give anything away. “I have relatives there.”

Jeb studied Max closely again, then finally said, “I’m on my way to my base in Vancouver. Have to pick up a load, then I’m heading to Las Vegas. You don’t cause too much trouble, you can ride along.”

“Th-thanks.” Max leaned back in his seat. But he didn’t relax. Something warned him to be on guard. This guy might just be human, but Max had learned long ago not to trust anyone.

Jeb shifted. The gears whined and echoed as metal scraped metal and the big rig picked up speed. “Yeah, I never liked my old man much either. Mean cuss. I sure the hell hope you’re runnin’ somewhere better than that, boy.”

So did Max.

Callia bolted as soon as they came through the portal in the Gatehouse.

Zander reached for her, but she slithered out of his grip and sprinted for the door. “Dammit, Callia. Wait!”

The two Executive Guards stationed at the portal exchanged bewildered glances. Zander searched for the Argonaut on duty training the newest recruits. None of the Argonauts were thrilled with the Council’s decision to turn monitoring of the portal over to their guards, but babysitting rankled even more, and Gryphon—the lucky guardian this time—looked ready to beat his head against a wall.

“Zander—what the hell?”

Zander ignored the question and moved toward the door. “Get Theron and the others and get to the Argolion,” he shouted.

Gryphon’s light eyebrows drew together as he pushed up from his chair. “Why in Hades would you be going to see the Council?”

“Just do it!”

He raced out the door of the Gatehouse and stopped on the sidewalk outside the building. The city of Tiyrns sparkled in the fall sunlight. A crisp breeze brushed past his face. He searched the busy street for Callia but didn’t see her. Closing his eyes, he envisioned the Argolion—the ancient building that housed the Council gatherings and the council members’ offices. In seconds he flashed to the steps outside the massive building and darted inside.

Rows of columns lined the inner corridor. Not seeing Callia anywhere in the great lobby, he headed toward the Council chambers and prayed they weren’t in session. The marble floor gleamed before him as he moved. He cursed himself for not planning this better.

He rounded the corner and spotted her ahead, about to open the double doors into the Council chambers. “Callia! Wait!”

She turned, looked at him, and the torment in her eyes all but killed him. “I have to see my father.”

He grasped her arm and gently turned her toward him. “He may be in session. Wait until Theron gets here and we’ll question him then. He—”

“I don’t care, Zander. Ten years. It’s been ten years!”

She pushed the door open before he could stop her, ducked under his arm and disappeared inside. He moved to grab her but drew up short when he stepped inside and all sound ground to a halt.

Twelve Council members sat in high-backed chairs in a circle around the Great Alpha Seal carved in marble in the middle of the floor. Behind the circle, on a raised platform, Isadora, the royal representative for the meeting, sat in a regal chair, overseeing the proceedings. To her right, Casey stood watching, and standing on both sides of the sisters, alert and armed, were two members of the Executive Guard.

All eyes turned their way. Tension permeated the air. Zander cast a quick glance around the room and found two, three…five more guards stationed at the exits to the circular chamber.

Skata, they should have waited for Theron and the others.

“What is the meaning of this disruption,” Lucian, the leader of the Council, said, brow furrowed as he rose to stand in front of his chair. The rompa, or ancient red robe each Council member wore during proceedings, draped around to pool at his feet.

“I need to speak with my father,” Callia announced, her gaze zooming in on her father, seated to Lucian’s right.

“Callia,” her father admonished, rising himself. “This is uncalled for.”

“You lied to me,” she said.

Her father’s shoulders tightened. Zander watched Lucian shoot Simon a questioning look. From the corner of his eye he spotted Loukas—Lucian’s son and the ándras Callia’s father had betrothed her to as a child—push to his feet from his seat near the wall on the far side of the room.

Oh, yeah, this was an ideal clusterfuck. All the major players were here, and from the tension suddenly thick in the room, Zander had a feeling things were going to go from bad to worse in no time flat. Three guards he could take and still protect Callia. But not seven. And definitely not on top of the twelve sets of glaring eyes zeroed in on him.

“Callia,” he said quietly as he took a step toward her and reached for her arm.

She shrugged out of his grip and moved inside the circle, coming to stop in the center, just above the great Alpha seal. “You said Zander left me, but he didn’t.”

“Callia.” Her father’s eyes darted from her to Zander and back again. “This is highly inappropriate.”

She ignored him, advanced until she was but a few feet away. And even though Zander was ticked at the way she didn’t listen to him and had bolted without thinking, a small part of him couldn’t help being impressed by her strength and courage. She was surrounded by twenty ándres, the twelve strongest politicians in their society and their guards. The ones who had forever scarred her with their twisted cleansing ritual and had the power to destroy her career and everything she’d built for herself over the years. And yet she wasn’t backing down.

“You told him I never wanted to see him again,” she said to her father, “but you lied about that too. You know I would have left here forever with him if I could have.”

Zander’s chest ached at that revelation, but the way Lou-kas stiffened on the other side of the room drew his attention. No one else seemed to notice. All eyes were glued to Callia.

“What else did you lie about?” she asked. “What else have you been hiding from me all these years?”

“Callia,” her father said gently, reaching for her. Zander tensed, ready to lurch to her rescue, but she moved out of her father’s grasp. Simon dropped his hand, flustered. “You’re obviously not thinking clearly to come here and say these things to me. I think you need to go back to your clinic and—”

“Let her speak,” Theron announced from the doorway.

The Council turned in unison toward the arched doorway where Theron stood, flanked by the remaining Argonauts save Demetrius.

Zander breathed out a sigh of relief, turned back to the circle and moved inside to stand behind Callia.

Simon glanced from her to him and back again, then turned to Lucian, the stress of the moment clearly visible in his eyes. “Lord Lucian, I apologize for my daughter’s interruption. May I request that the Council be adjourned until I can deal with this…disruption?”

Lucian’s jaw clenched, irritation evident in his jade green eyes. “So be it. The Council is adjourned until tomorrow.”

Whispers floated on the air as the other ten Council members rose and took their leave, shooting Callia, Zander and the Argonauts questioning looks. But Lucian didn’t move. And neither did Casey nor Isadora, who had joined her sister to stand behind the circle. Out of his peripheral vision, Zander saw Loukas inch toward his father’s side.

Dumbass. The prick needed to get fucking lost, once and for all.

“Callia,” her father admonished when the others were gone. “This is completely uncalled for. I’m not going to—”

“I want to know what happened on that mountain in Greece,” she said, rolling over him. “I want to know what else you lied to me about. I want to know what you did with my baby.”

Isadora gasped and covered her hand with her mouth, but the princess’s shock was the least of Zander’s worries. Simon’s suddenly wide eyes and pale face triggered a conversation in Zander’s mind.

Things aren’t always what they seem, Guardian. The web of deception spins strongest near those we trust the most.

“What happened to him?” Callia demanded. “What happened to my son?”

Simon’s terror-filled eyes darted from Callia to the Argonauts near the door, then finally to Zander, and held. He ignored Lucian’s muttered questions at his side. Sweat broke out on his forehead. The ándras started to shake.

“Make her leave,” Simon said to Zander.

“What?” Callia turned to look at Zander, then back to her father. “I’m not going anywhere. If you think after all this time I’m—”

“I’ll tell you,” Simon said to Zander again, ignoring Callia. “But not her. I can’t tell her.”

“Simon,” Lucian hissed. “You are forbidden from speaking!”

A familiar hum lit off in Zander’s blood, a warning that what he was about to hear was anything but good. But he tamped it down and put himself between Callia and her father before she could tear into him again.

“Zander, get out of my—”

He gripped her arms. “Wait outside.”

“No way.”

“I won’t cut you out,” he whispered. “I promise. But for whatever reason, he won’t tell us with you here. You have to go outside.”

She stilled. Stared at him. In the instance of silence that followed, the connection they’d always shared flared deep in his soul. There was a world of hurt and lies between them, but on this they had to be united. On this she had to trust him.

Her jaw clenched, but the muscles in her arms relaxed against his hands. “If you lie to me too—”

“I won’t,” he said softly, hoping she heard the truth in his words.

When she nodded, he glanced over his shoulder at Casey. Without being asked, the king’s half-breed daughter stepped quickly from the raised platform and hustled to Callia’s side. “We’ll wait outside.” She took a step toward the door. “Callia?”

Callia stayed where she was, staring up at Zander. And in her violet eyes he saw clearly for the first time in years. He saw everything she was to him, everything she’d been. Everything he’d done before and during and after their time together, and so much he wanted to do over. He saw…his soul, as clearly as if he were looking inside himself. And he saw his life. Not ending like he’d thought when he’d spoken to Lachesis on that mountain cliff, but continuing on, through her, because of her, with her.

“I promise,” he said again.

She took a deep breath. Then turned and walked out of the circle toward the door.

Pain lanced through Zander’s chest as he watched. Pain and a renewed sense of fury that even now the truth had to be hidden. But it wouldn’t be for long.

When he heard the outer door click closed, he turned and glared at Callia’s father. Even though he didn’t want to, he capped his rage. Knew losing it now would do no good. At his back he heard Theron and the other Argonauts step in behind him. “No more lies,” he told Simon. “This time you tell the truth. What did you do with my son?”

Simon glanced once guiltily at Lucian, and then he started talking. But what came out of his mouth wasn’t anything Zander had ever expected to hear. And the cap on his rage blew free to boil up and over before Simon paused to take his first breath.