There are some things about my blood even I can’t deny. Temper is one of them. “I’ll show you temper, you oversized, egomaniacal, murdering son of a Cyclops!” I ram my foot into his groin.
Beta Sinta doubles over with an explosion of breath. I’d do it again, but I’d rather run. I swipe my knife from his belt, bring the blade down hard on the rope, and plow my way toward the door.
A second later, I’m on my ass. The rope is perfectly intact, and three men are looking down at me, identical smirks needing to be wiped off their faces. Permanently.
Flynn’s foot lands on my wrist, stomping just hard enough to make me let go of the knife. Beta Sinta uncurls himself, glaring at me while he picks up my blade and slips it into his boot.
I change tactics and start sucking the magic out of the rope. Power nips at my skin and seeps into me, but the rope retains its enchantment. I keep sucking, and it keeps giving—a perpetual supply of magic!
Gods damn it! I pound both hands on the ground and howl.
“Up,” Beta Sinta orders.
I twist and lash out at him with my feet. He jumps to avoid my sweeping kick, and fury erupts in me. I’m fast and well trained, but he’s always a step ahead. Part of me is awed by his speed and agility. Most of me wants to grab Kato’s mace and thump Beta Sinta over the head with it. Repeatedly.
He fooled me at the fair, this man with the quick smile and midnight hair. I thought the warlord was just another warlord. I flushed at his interest and jumped into his dance of teasing threats. I had fun. Now, looking at him reminds me of something much stronger than fleeting attraction. There’s nothing in this world or the Underworld I hate more than royals.
“I’d rather let Cerberus slobber me to death with poisonous drool than go anywhere with you.”
His jaw muscles flexing, Beta Sinta pulls on the rope until I’m forced to either scramble to my feet or get dragged to his. “Come and I won’t have your friends arrested one by one while you watch.”
I feel myself pale. There’s no lie in his words. He’s not bluffing.
So this is it, exactly what Mother was trying to teach me, to pound and torture into me. Love is weakness, an exploitable flaw.
My surroundings fade, and I feel her sharp-nailed fingers digging into my chin as she turns my face and forces me to watch my older brother gut my nursemaid, the only woman who ever held me. Mother beat me when I cried, gave me a puppy the next day, and then ten months later, just when I loved that dog more than anything except for my sister, started the lesson all over again.
I blink, and Beta Sinta’s handsome, treacherous face comes back into focus.
Poseidon, protect me. I pick up my satchel, swing it over my shoulder, and don’t look back.
CHAPTER 4
Home. Gone.
Friends. Gone.
Captured by a ruthless Hoi Polloi warrior who’s going to use me to keep the kingdom he stole.
Can life get any worse?
Let me think… I’m tied to the warlord atop his huge horse, I stink, and my skintight pants are driving me insane.
We ride through the night, the enchanted rope keeping me from jumping off the horse. By dawn, I’m sore and exhausted, my whole body limp with fatigue. My nose still hurts, and my bottom half, which hasn’t been in contact with a horse in years, is aching fiercely, but I keep yawning, and my eyelids feel like someone’s hung marble statues from them. Rage and anxiety usually keep me nice and alert. Right now, they can’t even keep me awake. I slump against the warlord’s back as the sun rises on our right, my last conscious thought that I hope my caked-on cosmetics leave a grimy face print on his clean, white shirt.
I only wake up because someone is fiddling with the rope. Cracking open an eye, I see lean, tall Carver retying it so that Beta Sinta and I are not only strapped together at the waist but under the armpits as well. I didn’t even feel Beta Sinta untie the rope to begin with and scowl at the lost opportunity. I could have turned invisible and bolted from the horse.
Carver pulls the knot tight, tugging me hard against his brother’s back. “You sleep like the dead. Kato and Flynn are already betting on when you’ll fall off.”
I give him the evil eye, and Carver chuckles, flashing that easy smile. Does he think this is funny?
By noon, the sun is high and hot, beating down on my dark hair and crimson-clad back. My leather pants are officially one of the worst things in my life right now, and that’s saying a lot. I still manage to go back to sleep. I haven’t slept like this in years, maybe in my entire life. I may be strapped to a man I hate, but he would probably do a lot to keep me alive. He might even be good at it. Ironically, I feel almost safe.