Page 199 of A Touch of Chaos

Theseus continued to watch, curious to hear what would be said.

Once Ariadne was free, Helen slid a backpack off and pulled out a bundle of clothes. She had come prepared.

“Hurry and dress,” she instructed. “We don’t have much time.”

“Where is he?” Ariadne asked.

Theseus found the fear in her voice amusing.

“The gods are fighting downtown,” said Helen. “But I don’t know how long he will be away. Theseus does not fight his own battles.”

Theseus’s teeth clenched at her words.

Ariadne said nothing as she pulled on the clothes. Helen drew a sheathed knife from her bag, tossing it on the bed.

Ariadne took it. “Where will we go?”

“They’re saying Hades has made Nevernight into a refuge. I will take you there.”

“What about you?”

“I betrayed his wife and queen,” said Helen. “I will not be welcome there.”

Theseus waited until Ariadne was finished dressing, until her eyes met Helen’s.

Then he appeared behind Helen, gripping her chin and the back of her head.

“You will regret that I chose to fight this battle,” hesaid, jerking her head to the side. The bones in her neck snapped.

He was close to tearing her head from her body, but Ariadne bolted for the door.

He released Helen and lunged for Ariadne, his fingers closing in the fabric of her shirt.

“No!” she screamed. She whirled to stab him, but his skin was impenetrable. Her hand slipped, and she cried out as the blade cut her palm. She dropped the knife, and it fell to the floor, along with fat drops of her blood.

Theseus grabbed her by the wrists and hauled her toward the bed, but Ariadne dug in her feet. The blood made her slick, and she slipped from his grasp. She seemed just as surprised as he was as she stumbled back and fell on her ass. He charged after her, and she scrambled to her feet. She reached the door and threw it open, racing down the hall.

He let her run, let her scream. He was keeping count of her transgressions, and later, he would decide how she was to be punished. For now, she was about to learn the consequences of leaving his room, because at the end of the hall was Phaedra’s room, and the door was open, broken and splintered.

He knew when Ariadne caught sight of her sister, still dangling at the end of the bed, because she froze and a different kind of wailing came from her open mouth.

Slowly, she made her way to the floor, unable to stand.

“What did you do?” she moaned. “What did you do?”

“I did nothing,” he answered. “Your sister chose this. She abandoned you. She abandoned her son.”

“She would never!” Ariadne seethed with a deep andguttural anger. She glared at him, and he felt the full force of her hate.

He could not help it, he chuckled and said, “Then you do not know her at all.”

Ariadne launched herself at him with a shriek. He could feel her nails scrape down his face, but he felt nothing. For a few seconds, he let her rage, but he soon grew bored and snatched her by the wrists, dragging her into Phaedra’s room.

He threw her on the bed, his hand around her throat.

“Fight this, and I will murder my son in front of you.”

“You wouldn’t,” she wheezed, her eyes watering. “He is your blood.”

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