Entwined

Chapter Three

Okaaay. Not the reaction Zander had been hoping for.

No one in the room said a single word. And oh, yeah. He totally should have thrown himself off that cliff. At least then he wouldn’t have to endure this soul-rattling silence or see the what-the-fuck? looks on his kinsmen’s faces.

He shifted his feet, rested his hands on his hips and waited. As the seconds passed and no one said a word, his unease peaked. Finally, he broke the stare-down and said, “Look, don’t everyone thank me all at once.”

Theron glanced over his shoulder at the king. “We need a minute.”

Before Zander could respond, Theron pushed him back into the hallway with a force that nearly knocked Zander off his feet. The leader of the Argonauts didn’t speak until they were well out of earshot of the king’s chamber, and then he let loose.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Resentment brewed as Zander’s back hit the stone wall. It wasn’t like he expected Theron to be all rosy cheeked and gracious that he’d finally manned-up. Theron had every reason to be suspicious. But a little thanks wasn’t too fucking much to ask, especially now.

“Helping.”

“This isn’t a joke, Zander.”

“I don’t see anyone laughing.”

“Why in Hades would you make light of this situation?”

“I’m not—”

“Skata.” Theron raked his hand through his shoulder-length hair. “I’m already so pissed at Demetrius I can barely see straight. I hate that Isadora is forced to marry anyone, but there’s no way around it. Not if we’re to keep the Council out of Argonaut affairs and Atalanta out of Argolea for good. And I don’t need you adding fuel to the fire and fucking it all up when I—”

“I’m not adding fuel, Theron. I’m serious. I’ll marry her.”

“Serious? You?” Disbelief raced across Theron’s chiseled features. “I doubt that. This isn’t something you can casually volunteer for just to make up for what happened earlier. Or to get you back in the king’s good graces. Marriage to Isadora isn’t until you get bored of her and decide to go back to your human women. This is permanent. The binding ceremony joins two together for—”

“A lifetime. Yeah. I get that. But let’s be honest here. We’re only talking about her lifetime. Not mine.”

Theron’s mouth snapped shut, and Zander took a deep breath, because okay, yeah, there was no turning back from this. Not now that it was out there. And part of him…part of him didn’t want to turn back. “Isadora’s got what, five hundred years until she passes, if that? That’s a long time, but in the grand scheme of my life? Probably nothing, and you know it.”

“Zander, you’re not really—”

“Immortal? Yeah, don’t go there. We both know you’d be wrong anyway.” He wasn’t about to let Theron change his mind. “Demetrius obviously doesn’t want this, and you can’t force him to marry her when he’s so adamantly against it. Not to mention, he’s volatile. He scares the crap out of her on a good day. What do you think he’ll do to her if they’re alone? Do you want her to be miserable for the rest of her life, or worse, be thinking about what he could be doing to her whenever the doors are closed?”

“No.” Theron winced. Looked down at his boots. Seemed as sickened by the idea as Zander was. “Of course I don’t want that. Demetrius is the last guardian I’d choose for her, but the king won’t listen.”

“None of the others want to marry her either,” Zander said quietly. “You could see it in their eyes. Let me do this. I want to. I’m the only one who doesn’t have anything to lose.”

“Zander,” Theron said cautiously, bringing his dark eyes back level with Zander’s, “if you marry Isadora, you sacrifice potentially finding your—”

“My what? My soul mate?” Zander scoffed. “I already found her, Theron. Years ago. Only she didn’t want me. Not enough.” At Theron’s pitying expression, Zander nearly laughed at the irony, even as he felt the ache he’d gotten good at ignoring bubble deep in his chest. “Yeah, Hera’s curse about an Argonaut finding his soul mate and losing her, then being nothing but a shell? It’s true. I know from experience. Before her? I didn’t know what I was missing. Since? It’s like one long-ass day that keeps repeating itself over and over, only there’s no way I can get past it. And you know what? I’m tired of it.”

“Zander…”

The sympathy he heard in his kinsman’s voice was too much, and he ran a hand over his brow. If he didn’t get this conversation back on track he was going to spill the beans to Theron about all the really ugly shit that had gone down, and he didn’t want that. He needed to keep it locked inside. Where it was his and no one else’s.

“Look. You told me to find something worth living for. That’s what I’m trying to do.” He dropped his hand. “The only thing that means anything to me these days is the fighting, which, if I keep going down the path I’ve been on, I won’t even have anymore. No one else wants to do this and I can. So”—he blew out a long breath—“say yes. Save the other guys from having to make a sacrifice you know they can’t handle and tell the king you support my binding with Isadora. And let’s be done with this.”

Theron studied him so long, Zander wasn’t sure the Argonaut had heard him. His heart thumped hard in his chest as he waited. If Theron said no…he wasn’t sure what he’d do. He felt like he’d just been thrown a lifeline, something real to grasp onto. Something that would give him a reason to live instead of just going through the motions. And now Theron alone had the power to crush the one spark of hope he’d had in years.

Finally, Theron said, “The king wants heirs. It’s the entire reason he’s forcing this marriage on Isadora.”

“I know.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

Was he? It meant sex. With an Argolean. Not a human woman. “I have to be, right?”

“He won’t let you fight. He’ll take you out of the rotation and keep you in Argolea until she’s with child or an heir is born.”

Zander hadn’t thought of that. “Okaaaay. Yeah. I guess…that makes sense.”

“And there’s always the question of your…virility. You’ve taken more than your fair share of beatings over the years.”

That was Theron’s polite way of saying Zander may have been kicked in the balls one too many times to sire a child. On this, at least, Zander knew he was certain. A sound that was half chuckle, half harrumph came out of him. “I’m fertile. Don’t worry about that.”

“How do you know—?”

“Because I’ve worked that particular magic before.”

Theron’s brows drew together. “You have a child?”

Had was more accurate. Or, almost had. The ache intensified in his chest. “Not anymore.”

“Skata. Zander…”

Okay, now things were getting way too real for Zander. He rubbed a hand across his lower lip. “Look, they’re waiting for us. Just say yes, Theron.”

Theron sighed. The battle raging inside him was palpable. He, of any of the Argonauts, would know the sacrifice Zander was making. Because he was the only one who’d found his soul mate. And obviously, just the thought of losing Casey was enough to tear him apart. “You can’t change your mind. Once the ceremony is final, that’s it. No one else but her.”

“I know.”

“You’re willing to make that commitment to Isadora? Even knowing she’s…still out there?”

Zander thought about the “she” Theron was referring to. Wondered what the Argonaut would say if he knew that she was right in the next room. Then thought about all the years he’d wished things could be different, that she’d made a different choice, that she’d picked him over her domineering father. Or that he could just get beyond her betrayal and forgive her. But he couldn’t. Every time he looked at Callia, he didn’t see the beauty that she was or the power that she held, he saw what she’d done. And even now, as he remembered, it pierced his chest as fresh and sharp as it had that day.

“I am,” he said with more conviction than Theron needed. But then, that conviction wasn’t for Theron, was it? It was for him. And what he was about to do.

“Isadora will never be your soul mate, Zander,” Theron said quietly.

“That’s why I want to bind myself to her.”

Theron turned and glanced toward the king’s door, rubbed a hand over his face as if he was exhausted. Blew out a long, long breath. “Okay,” he finally said. “Okay, you have my endorsement. It’s up to the king, but…” He looked back at Zander with a mixture of pity and respect that was oddly reassuring, then placed his large hand on Zander’s shoulder. The Argonaut markings, the ancient Greek text, ran down his forearms to entwine his fingers, just like they did on Zander’s arms, just like they did on the arms of all the Argonauts. “You have my respect. And my gratitude. What you do here, you do for all of us. I won’t forget this. None of us will.”

The emotion swirling in Zander’s chest was unfamiliar. Not excitement, or even happiness really, because he was neither excited nor happy. No, this was different. It was warm and encapsulating, and it radiated from the center of his being.

It was…pride, he finally realized. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he was proud of what he was doing. For someone else. For his people. For their protection and way of life. And it felt good. Damn good, because…it meant he wasn’t numb anymore.

He was too pansy-assed choked up to say anything, so he only nodded and followed Theron back into the king’s chambers.

The room quieted once more as they entered, and he met the expectant looks of each of his guardian kin with a reassuring nod. But he didn’t look at Callia, standing near the king’s bed. Couldn’t. And he told himself that was a good thing. Because his past with her ended here. His future—for the next five hundred years, at least—was with the gynaíka on the other side of the room. The one he intended to marry, bed and impregnate all in the next week.

His stomach tightened at that little reality, but he lifted his head, held still and let Theron take the lead.

“Your Highness,” Theron said, his deep voice like a boom to seal Zander’s fate. “I recommend you reconsider your choice. Zander has my full support as the guardian best fit to marry Isadora.”

No one said a word. Behind him, Zander could hear Demetrius suck in a breath and hold it. Across the room, Isadora and Callia stared at him. The king frowned, obviously contemplating his options. And he didn’t look altogether ecstatic at what he was thinking.

Just say yes. Beads of sweat broke out on Zander’s forehead as he waited. His conversation with the king weeks ago—when Theron had nearly walked away from the Argonauts—flashed in his brain. The king hadn’t been happy when he’d sided with Theron. Looked less than thrilled now. If the king held that against him…

Just say yes…

Finally, the king said, “So be it.”

A breath Zander hadn’t realized he’d been holding rushed out. At his back, he heard the same from Demetrius.

“The binding ceremony between Zander and the princess Isadora will take place in seven days’ time,” the king announced. “On the eve of the full moon. You are dismissed.”

Collectively, the Argonauts turned to leave. Muttered voices echoed around Zander, but the only one he fully caught was Demetrius’s grateful one as the guardian said, “I owe you, Z.”

That pride hit Zander again in the chest full on, even though…the thought of what lay ahead solidified that ice around his heart.

This was the right thing to do. The only thing he could do. He was saving the others from something they didn’t want. Hopefully saving a small part of himself too.

He turned to leave with the other guardians, but the king’s sharp voice stopped him. “Zander.” He looked back. “Do not disappoint me. The repercussions will be fierce.”

Yeah, that wasn’t glowing thanks either. Zander bowed once, indicating he’d heard the king, but his pride wavered.

“Before you return to duty,” the king went on, “you’ll report to my private study for a complete evaluation by my personal healer. If you pass the exam, the binding ceremony will go on as scheduled. If not, I’ll choose another Argonaut. You are excused.”

Zander’s gaze hopped right to Callia. Who was staring at the floor as if it might just jump up and bite her.

For shit’s sake. This was supposed to put his feelings for her behind him. Not give her an opportunity to grope his naked body. And holy Hades, his blood did not just warm at the thought. Or at the possibility of being alone with her one last time.

Callia waited as long as she could. The Argonauts filed out of the room. Casey and Isadora left. She took her time helping the king get situated so she didn’t have to make the trek downstairs with Zander.

When he finally turned to leave she swallowed hard. Oh, gods. He was binding himself to Isadora. Never in her wildest dreams had she ever expected…that.

“If you find anything even remotely questionable in your exam, Callia,” the king said, “I want to know about it. Do you understand?”

She nodded, though inside she felt like screaming. Zander was binding himself to someone else. And now she had to go into that room with him. See him naked. Touch his body. Remember everything they’d done with each other. What had happened after…

She was so lost in her thoughts, she didn’t feel the king’s hand wrap around her wrist, only registered the tug when she tried to leave and couldn’t. She turned to look back at him and found his violet eyes focused in on her. Violet eyes that couldn’t possibly see her, but were focused just the same.

He didn’t speak. Only stared at her as if searching for…something. Finally, he said, “Your mother was a great healer, Callia. Fervent in mind and body. She served as Royal Healer for a long time, and she did it well, much to the chagrin of your father. I see a lot of her in you, and it pleases me to know that you carry on her work, when your father would have chosen something else for you. But your powers are stronger than your mother’s ever were. Your future brighter.” When Callia opened her mouth to protest, he cut her off. “No, it’s true. And you know it to be so, deep in your heart.”

She closed her mouth. Stared at him. Unsure what to say or do.

“Callia, dear, I for one know what it is to want something you cannot have, but I also know the only thing that matters in this world is that which we leave behind. Your mother knew that too. Do not forsake what might have been for what can never be. A true leader sets aside his personal wants for the good of the whole. And he makes sacrifices. Ones that, in the end, justify all that came before.”

Her pulse thumped hard in her veins. A strange tingling lit off at the base of her hairline. She searched his face for a clue as to how he knew what she was feeling. Only she came up empty. Did he know about her past with Zander? Had someone told him what had happened between them? Or was he talking about Loukas, Lucian’s son, the ándras who would one day lead the Council of Twelve so at odds with the monarchy, and the male she’d been betrothed to from the time she was just a child?

“I…I am not a leader, Your Majesty.”

His eyes softened, just a touch. Just enough to tell her he knew more than she’d ever expected. “Not yet. But maybe one day.”

He let go of her as quickly as he’d grabbed her, then leaned back in the pillows, closing his eyes as if the last hour had drained him of his energy. Gone was the gentleness and wisdom in his voice when he said, “Report back to me after you see to Zander. I want to know that he can produce heirs. If this binding is to be sanctioned, I need confirmation of his virility. Once the ceremony is complete, I cannot choose another. And tell that useless maidservant Althea on your way out that I do not want to be disturbed.”

Callia’s stomach clenched into a knot as she stared at the old ándras and he drifted off to sleep as if he had not a care in the world. The king expected her to…

Skata.

She lifted a shaky hand to her forehead, swiped at the sweat beading there and turned for the door. This exam had suddenly taken on a whole new form of personal torture.

She left the room as anxiety and anger boiled in her gut. After relaying the king’s message to Althea in the antechamber, she reluctantly headed down the great marble staircase toward the king’s study on the second level.

Damn the king. Her temper soared as she reached the bottom step and turned the corner toward the study. Damn the politics of this war. Damn the Argonauts and Zander especially for making her feel, when she’d been doing a helluva job just getting by these last ten years. She didn’t want to sacrifice. She didn’t want to think about marriage and bindings and doing what was right. And she especially didn’t want to be alone with the one Argonaut who had ruined her entire life.

She pushed the study door open to see Zander turn from the bay of windows, late-afternoon sun highlighting the gold in his short blond hair, backlighting the muscles and planes of a well-defined body she’d known more intimately than any other. But he didn’t greet her, not that he ever did. And there was absolutely no reaction whatsoever on his face at seeing her. Not that there ever was.

He turned his gaze out the window again without a word.

She let the heavy door snap closed at her back and walked toward the desk, her shoes clicking across the king’s seal as she crossed the marble floor. Calm. Clear. Completely professional. That’s how she’d play it with him, no matter how much she wanted to throw something. If he was going to act like they were complete strangers, two could play that game.

“Strip,” she said as she cleared the ancient mahogany desk of its lone lamp so she could use it as her exam table. “Everything off.”

Stormy blue-gray eyes shifted her way. And oh, yeah, that was definitely not happiness reflected there at the prospect of being alone with her. Like she cared.

“I’m not getting naked for you.”

She ignored the little thump in her heart at the sound of his deep voice and narrowed her eyes. “Then you’re going to have a hard time binding yourself to the princess.” She glanced at his hips. Smirked. Wanted to gouge out a wound in his chest big enough to dump a truckload of salt into. “Or soft, as the case may be. Rumor has it you can only perform with human women. Whether you like it or not, the king wants to make sure you’re…up to par, you might say, before he lets you marry his daughter.”

She knew she was antagonizing him, but just couldn’t stop herself. It had been building for a long time. Since the moment he’d turned his back on her all those years before. She wanted to make him hurt the way he’d hurt her. To feel…something…instead of being the stone-cold bastard he really was. And since this was the first time they’d spoken in ten years, was it really a shocker their conversation was about to be a doozy?

She focused on his darkening eyes, saw the temper flare there and felt marginally better over the fact he was finally exhibiting some kind of emotion, even if it was contempt. “Of course,” she went on, “you can save yourself the burden of this little exam by simply admitting you’re impotent.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“No.” What little humor she had faded. “What I’d like is to get this over with so I can be on my way. Contrary to what you might believe, Zander, my world stopped revolving around you a long time ago. Now either strip, or I’ll tell the king to choose someone else.”