As we walked down the winding caverns—thousands of feet beneath the realm’s surface—my twin stood taller.
Power clung to him.
He was stronger now that he was within the source of his abilities.
We both were.
We turned a corner, and a Minotaur prisoner threw himself at the bars next to John, opened his maw, and screamed bloody murder.
My twin turned to him and smiled.
Dimples flashing, he tsked at the beast that had murdered thousands.
The Minotaur went wild.
I rolled my eyes at my brother’s antics. Since we were little boys and had discovered our heritage, he loved to taunt the prisoners, and they hated him for it.
I was indifferent.
Per usual.
John’s steps took on a swagger as more prisoners threw themselves at the bars as he walked past. They screamed, roared, and shrieked at him but flinched when he turned toward them, and scuttled back into the darkness.
If it weren’t for his youth and dimples, he could be mistaken for the king. His darkness formed a glittering cape that hung off his shoulders.
A dark crown jutted off his head.
Similarly, the heavy weight of a cape settled on my shoulders, and I adjusted the crown that dug into my head.
The Princes of Darkness had returned to their land.
Rocks shifted beneath my feet like they were trying to touch me through my boots. The jagged path became smooth before us as the rubble reshaped itself. The rocks were always trying to impress.
“Thank you,” I said as touched a boulder on the side wall.
It warmed and shivered.
I felt the cavern sigh with pleasure, then the energy shifted into pure excitement.
As if a switch had been flipped, the prisoners went dead silent and fell to their knees. They bowed their heads.
“My sons, to what do I owe this delightful visit?” The king’s voice boomed. He stood under arching stalactites, hellfire casting shadows across his velvet robes, as he smiled at us.
Dark hair, dark eyes, olive skin.
Power rolled off him.
We were his mirror images. The blood of the royal family overwhelmed any other heritage we might have had. Which made sense because our mother had been a layperson. A human who’d secretly traded goods in both realms.
She’d left pregnant on a trading trip and had never returned. The king hadn’t known of our existence until Lothaire rescued us and brought us to him.
We’d gone from mortals to princes overnight.
Both had their challenges.
The king smiled with happiness in a cavernous prison dripping with stalactites, power, and fear.
His voice echoed. “No one expected the Princes of Darkness to visit the underworld anytime soon. I must say, I’m ecstatic. You’ve made your old man very happy.”
He walked toward John slowly, then threw his arms around my twin in a punishing hug. As they embraced, he nodded at me over his shoulder.
I nodded back, and he didn’t try to touch me.
I’d set my boundaries years prior, and the king respected them.
“We have a problem, Father,” John said softly as he was clapped on the back.
The king straightened.
His dark eyes flashed as he glanced around at the kneeling prisoners. “Not here. Let’s go to the castle and discuss.”
He grabbed our arms.
Glittering black power—a derivation of our own—wrapped around us, and we were transported into a white marble foyer. Servants bustled around, and the familiar scent of marble and olives hung heavy in the air.
The ceiling was arched and lined with colonnades.
Olive trees filled the corners of the room.
A stately woman swept into the room and shouted boisterously, “For once, the oracle was correct. My favorite nephews have returned. Blessed be the day.”
John smiled as she hugged him. “We’re your only nephews, so we better be the favorites.”
She pulled away and slapped me on the shoulder aggressively.
Our aunt was one of the queens who ruled Olympus and she’d never liked boundaries.
I pulled away, but the corners of my mouth lifted into a grin as she fussed over us like we were children.
“Nonsense. I’m sure someone has produced another child by now.” She winked, and the king shook his head at her antics.
The royal blood was renowned for being too powerful to procreate.
They’d lived too long.
Immortality was both a curse and penance.
Before our mother, no woman had been strong enough to bear a child of our family’s legacy. The embryos killed the mothers, and consequently themselves.
We were the king’s miracle children.
We were his secret.