Hours pass. I’m so hot I get a decent idea of what it must feel like in Hades’s dungeon and so thirsty that my mouth feels like the dried-out basin of an evaporated puddle. Steam rises from Panotii’s drenched hide. I slow him to a walk so he can breathe and then reach down to stroke his burning neck. His sides heaving, he shudders beneath me.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but we can’t let them die.” I dismount again, and we run together until my whole body aches.
Finally—finally—Ios looms in the distance, but Apollo has already driven his chariot of fire more than halfway across the sky, and I’m still on the wrong side of the city.
I glance over my shoulder, squinting against the sun. Where’s Piers? I don’t see any sign of the army, and the terrain behind me is flat and clear.
I haul myself back into the saddle and push Panotii into a canter, dreading hearing the sounds of battle. Will there even be any battle noise? How long can it take sixty men to slaughter four?
My heart knows the answer to that. Just long enough to get Egeria to safety, along with a bunch of healers who despise them and everything they stand for.
Anxiety cramps my stomach as we skirt the city’s east side, following the shade of the wall so that Panotii can pick up speed again. At last, the building site comes into view, and I go limp with relief. People are working and standing around. The healers’ tent is still overflowing with gawkers and casting a long shadow across the parched ground.
My eyes find Griffin among the crowd. He’s talking to Egeria when his head snaps up, and he looks toward the woods. Panic wraps icy fingers around my heart, squeezing out a painful, punishing beat. I’m too late.
I shout a warning cry, too far away to be heard. “Go. Go. Go!” I beg Panotii for one last gallop, wincing at the sickening sound that rattles in his chest.
Healers race toward us, running for the city. I see Egeria among them, white-faced and panicked. I tumble off Panotii and grab her.
She shrieks, then recognizes me and falls into my arms. “Cat! Oh my Gods, Cat!”
I push her off me and then shove her onto Panotii’s back, turning him back toward Ios. I send him off with a slap on his rear, yelling hoarsely, “Close the gates! Give my horse food and water!”
“Cat!” Egeria cries, twisting in the saddle.
I run toward the Tarvan tribesmen, snagging a healer by the dress and dragging her with me in case I need her later. Healing magic works on a curve, limited when young and old, and at its peak near middle age. Women are universally stronger. The woman is about forty years old, potentially the most powerful of the fleeing group. She jerks and stumbles at the sudden change in direction, but I keep her with me, either with my momentum, or by sheer force of will. I hardly feel her pushing on my arm, trying to break free.
The Tarvans have maneuvered tactically, coming around Griffin and the others to cut off any chance of their retreating into the city. It doesn’t take a strategic genius to know they’re after the royals, and Griffin in particular. Carver’s an added bonus, and they probably figure they’ll have Egeria soon. Sixty armed men have a good chance of taking an unprepared, weakly fortified city like Ios, and I’m guessing they know it.
What the Tarvans don’t know is that their position now puts them between Beta Team and me, and every last one of them is about to comprehend something vital—that’s the wrong place to be.
I draw in a deep breath and let Sybaris’s deadly magic out on a scorching exhale. Dragon’s Breath surges from my mouth and melts the thirty men closest to me. There isn’t time for them to scream before the skin sloughs from their bones and there’s nothing left but smoking, stinking puddles of melted men, metal, and leather.
For a moment, everything stops. The clanking of arms ceases, and all eyes turn to me. I see only Griffin, and the endless chaotic wrath inside me focuses, turning sharp as a blade. Powerful magic explodes from previously dormant places. My loose hair lifts on a sudden gale. Lightning bursts from my body, splitting the air with cracks of thunder. I advance, my footsteps charring the ground as bolts radiate from my feet, long, jagged, and intensely hot. There’s a tearing pain in my back, along each shoulder blade. I don’t stop to question it, or the lightning, or the wind. I don’t question anything. I am mighty, and I will kill anyone who gets in my way.
“Run.” The command is deep and echoes eerily. It doesn’t sound like me. It hammers my enemies like a storm from Olympus.
Half the remaining Tarvans sprint for the woods. The rest make a stand. Griffin shouts my name, the sound of his voice reaching me through layers and layers of sound-dulling power. My vision wavers like a mirage, everything coated in fiery orange. I’m too close to indiscriminately blast Dragon’s Breath from my mouth without endangering the people I’m here to protect, so I throw a ball of Chimera’s Fire at the Tarvan closest to me instead. He goes up in flames, screaming. I repeat until the Chimera’s Fire wanes—five more fire balls, and then it’s gone.