Page 64 of Summer's Seduction

Morpheus hissed as blood welled across his chest. The white of bone could be seen, the pain causing him to stumble back. Fury ignited within me as I raced forward.

Egerius should’ve gone in for the killing blow, but he was hesitating. The momentary lapse in sparring gave me a chance ofreaching them, of grasping Egerius and compelling him to let us go.

“No,” Morpheus breathed. His golden eyes flicked to mine, widening in fear as he saw me rush toward him.

Thethunkof an arrow sounded a split second before a strangled cry shook the room. I didn’t understand what the pain lashing through my shoulder meant until my body started to fall, thrown off by the hit.

Egerius turned at the sound of my cry, the dagger gripped in his palm still coated in Morpheus’s blood.

“No!” Morpheus yelled. Another wave of pain rocked through me as he flitted to his feet, adrenaline spiking as he raced toward me. But Egerius was too close. Morpheus wouldn’t make it in time.

This wasn’t supposed to end this way.

Then the shadows shifted, surrounding me in a deafening blackness before opening up moments later. My falling body collided with a gray stone floor. A strong hand pinned me down, pressing against my collarbone and chest as another ripped the arrow free.

I cried, rolling to my side and into a fighting position as the pressure released.

“You’re welcome,” came a deep voice rising from the shadows.

I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, the only light coming from the open window where the figure moved. The sounds of the fighting continued below, and there were more—footsteps and steel. Guards.

“It will be over soon,” the voice said, the light catching on his face as he peered out.

“Lucius,” I hissed, prowling forward with my palms raised.

He stepped back, staring warily at the shimmer of magic sparking along my fingertips. “None of this was your fault,princess. Hypnos believes you’re dead, and it will stay that way, but I can’t stop what is coming. The others won’t win. Not tonight. Not in a war already scripted and stacked against you.”

The tiny hairs on the back of my neck pricked with fear, and something more sinister twisted my stomach. I looked out the window, seeing the skirmish of war below. Lucius must have shadowed up to a hidden room off the ballroom's side.

Morpheus had tackled Egerius, the two brawling as fists flew on the room's far end. Dark ones swarmed the huntresses, their speed and swift healing seeming to be the only things keeping them alive.

“Can’t you feel it?” Lucius breathed, but there was no arrogance in his tone. No pride at their impending victory. “The bloodthirst, the need to not just kill, but mutilate. To enjoy the pain brought on by war. That’shisdoing.”

My mouth ran dry as my pulse raced, even as a denial rose to my lips. Because there was only one being who could cause such things. One god who took pleasure in the pain of others: Ares.

Two blasts boomed through the room, followed by the sounds of bow strings being pulled tight.

“Archers!” I heard Artemis scream. She and the others had carved a path of blood and bodies nearly to the exit, but they couldn’t outrun arrows.

Hebe and Arete snapped chairs in half, raising the cushions as makeshift shields overhead a moment before the twang of strings loosened. Arrows rained down on the cluster of huntresses, embedding tips in the blue and green fabric and piercing a half-a-dozen lingering dark ones who hadn’t been quick enough to flee.

I raced forward, feeling Lucius’s magic wrap around my middle before I could leap through the window. A strangled cry cut through the unnatural stillness that followed in the wake of the arrows—Megara.

A shaft protruded from her stomach, the surrounding stain of red growing as a fresh wave of dark ones surged forward. She coughed, flecks of blood and spit dribbling down her chin as Camilla and Cyrene raced to her side.

I heard the rattle of arrows being notched for a second time, watched as Cyrene lifted Megara while Camilla lashed out with her dagger. Artemis stood in front, answering The Dark Ones' snarls with a fury of her own.

Her violet eyes were glowing, and her dark skin was coated in a silver hue as her movements quickened. Her accuracy was immaculate.

“I didn’t realize you had a goddess on your side,” Lucius breathed as I thrashed against him, trying to find a piece of him to send my magic into, but there was only shadow. “Maybe things could have been different if I’d known—if I’d warned you—but it’s too late now. They’re too strong.”

Another round of arrows flew, punctuating Lucius’s words. Hebe managed to throw up a lounge in time, but Arete hadn’t been as lucky. She groaned, gripping the shaft and yanking the arrow free. She tossed it aside as if it were a nuisance. But then she stumbled, knees crashing to the ground.

I watched as she glanced down with furrowed brows at the bleeding wound. Her red blood was tinted silver, a mark of Artemis’s blessing, but an oily, black substance warped it. All other wounds had healed in seconds, but the place the arrow had pierced was now festering, the red, blistering skin almost burning.

“Camilla?” Artemis called, not daring to take her eyes off the storm of dark ones she and Hebe were holding at bay.

In a flash, Camilla picked up the arrow with a discarded cloak, careful not to touch it.

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