Ruler, Rival, Exile

“The mother of this child is my slave,” Irrien said. “The child is not hers to give.”

He heard the other man laugh then.

“It matters so much to you, doesn’t it?” Daskalos said. “You must win, because you must be the strongest. Perhaps that can be my lesson to you, Irrien: there is always someone stronger.”

Irrien had put up with enough from this fool, sorcerer or not. He’d met men and women who had claimed to command magic before. Some of them had even been able to do things that Irrien couldn’t explain. None of it had let them best him. Faced with magic, the best thing to do was strike first and strike hard.

He lunged forward, the knife in his hand flashing into the young man’s chest. Daskalos looked down at it, then stepped away as calmly as if Irrien had merely brushed the edge of his robes.

“Lady Stephania tried something similar when I suggested taking her child,” Daskalos said, with a hint of amusement. “I’ll tell you what I told her: there will be a price for attacking me. Perhaps I will even have the boy exact it.”

Irrien lunged again, this time going for the other man’s throat to try to shut him up. He stumbled past the altar, almost overbalancing. The sorcerer wasn’t there anymore. Irrien blinked, looking round. There was no sign of him.

“No!” Irrien bellowed. “I’ll kill you for this. I’ll hunt you down!”

“First Stone?” one of the priests said. “Is everything all right?”

Irrien struck him with his off hand, sending the man sprawling. He heard the others gasp. Apparently, they were all free from whatever spell the sorcerer had used to control them.

“Lord Irrien,” the highest of the priests said. “I must protest. To strike a priest is to invite the wrath of the gods.”

“The wrath of the gods?” Irrien repeated. He drew himself up to his full height, but apparently the old fool was too caught up in his self-righteousness to notice it.

“Do not mock it, First Stone,” the man said. “And where is the sacrifice?”

“Gone,” Irrien said. From the corner of his eye, he saw some of those there shifting in place. They at least seemed to recognize the dangerous nature of his anger.

The priest seemed too obsessed to notice. “The gods must be thanked for this victory, or there is a danger that they will not give you others. You may be the most powerful of men, but the gods – ”

Irrien pulled the other man close as he stabbed him. He’d been made to look weak by the sorcerer. He couldn’t allow the priest to do the same. Irrien bent the older man back until he lay on the altar, in almost the spot where Stephania had been.

“I have this victory because I took it,” Irrien said. “Do any of you think that you are stronger than me? Do you think that your gods will give you the strength to take what is mine? Do you?”

He looked around them in silent challenge, meeting their eyes and noting who looked away, how quickly, and how frightened they appeared when they did so. He picked out another of the priests, younger than the dead one had been.

“You, what is your name?”

“Antillion, First Stone.” Irrien could hear the fear there. Good. A man should realize who could really take his life from him.

“You are now the highest priest in Delos. You will answer to me. Do you understand?”

The young man bowed. “Yes, First Stone. Do you have commands?”

Irrien looked around, getting his temper under control. A flash of it could terrify those who needed to be cowed, but a temper that was not under control was a weakness. It encouraged dissent, and emboldened those who mistook it for stupidity.

“Clear away that as you did the first sacrifice,” Irrien answered, pointing to the dead priest. “Later, you will attend me in the royal chambers of this place.”

He walked to the kneeling slaves, picking out two of Stephania’s former handmaidens. They had much of the beauty of their now gone mistress, with a much more suitable level of fear. He drew them to their feet.

“Later,” Irrien said. On impulse, he shoved one of them in the direction of the priest. “I will not have it said that I do not respect the gods. I will not be commanded, though. Take this one and sacrifice her. I take it that will please them?”

The priest bowed low again. “Whatever pleases you, First Stone, will please the gods.”

That was a good answer. It was almost enough to soothe Irrien’s mood. His hand closed on the forearm of the other woman. She looked shocked into silence, obviously realizing how close she’d just come to death.

The other started to scream as they dragged her to the altar.

Irrien didn’t care about that. He didn’t even particularly care about the slave he dragged along in his wake as he left the room. The weak didn’t matter. What mattered was that there was a sorcerer entangled in his business. Irrien didn’t know what that meant, and it irritated him that he couldn’t see what this Daskalos intended.

It took him most of the journey to the royal chambers to convince himself that it didn’t matter. Who could fathom the ways of those who dabbled in magic? What mattered was that Irrien had his own plans for the Empire, and so far, those plans were proceeding exactly as he wanted.

What came next would be even better, although there was one sour note in that. What did this sorcerer want with the boy? What had he meant about turning him into a weapon? Somehow, just the thought of him made Irrien shudder, and Irrien hated that. He claimed to fear no man, but this Daskalos…

He feared him greatly.

CHAPTER FOUR

Thanos knew he should have been watching the horizon, but right then, all he could do was watch Ceres with a mixture of pride, love, and amazement. She stood at the prow of their small boat, her hand touching the water as they headed from the harbor into open water. Around them, the air continued to shimmer, the haze that marked their invisibility seeming to twist the light that passed through it.

One day, Thanos knew, he would marry her.

“I think that’s enough,” Thanos said to her softly. He could see the strain on her face from it. The power was obviously taking its toll.

“Just… a little… farther.”

Thanos laid a hand on her shoulder. Somewhere behind him, he heard Jeva gasp, as if the Bone Folk woman expected him to be flung back by the power. Thanos knew Ceres would never do that to him though.

“We’re clear,” he said. “There’s nobody behind us.”

He saw Ceres look around in obvious surprise as she saw the deeper water they were now rowing across. Had it taken that much concentration to hold the power in place? Either way, there was no one behind them now, just empty ocean.

Ceres lifted her hand from the water, staggering slightly. Thanos caught her, holding her up. After everything she’d been through, he was amazed that she’d managed to show this much strength. He wanted to be there for her then. Not just some of the time, but always.

“I’m all right,” Ceres said.

“You’re more than that,” Thanos assured her. “You’re amazing.”

More amazing than he could have believed. It wasn’t just that Ceres was beautiful and clever and strong. It wasn’t just that she was powerful, or that she seemed to put the good of others ahead of her own so consistently. It was all those things, but there was also something special beyond that.

She was the woman he loved, and after what had happened in the city, she was the only woman he loved. Thanos found himself thinking about what that meant. They could be together now. They would be together.

She looked up at him then, and she reached up to kiss him. It was a soft, gentle moment, full of tenderness. Thanos found himself wishing that it could fill the whole world, and that there was nothing else they had to deal with.

“You chose me,” Ceres said, touching his face as they pulled back.

“I will always choose you,” Thanos said. “I will always be there for you too.”

Ceres smiled at that, but Thanos could see the note of uncertainty there in her expression too. He couldn’t blame her for that, but at the same time he wished it weren’t there. He wished that he could chase that away, leaving everything all right between them. He’d been on the verge of asking her for more then, but he knew when not to press things.