Page 8 of Bane of the Wild Hunt

The young woman broke away from her handmaid and hiked her vibrant blue dress up above her ankles before she tackled the stairs at a wild speed. Her wings flared to help her glide down more quickly until her toes were barely touching the steps. The nobles gaped at her as they parted, and Andromeda tried to intercept her, but Rhea barrelled by all of them and sailed right into Riordan’s open arms. She collided against her older brother with enough force to knock the breath out of both of them.

Riordan stumbled back with a laugh, but he held her up against him with his arms under her wings.

“Rhea!” I heard their mother hiss in a soft reprimand, glancing around them in embarrassment for the public display of emotion.

Neither of her children heard or cared for her scolding, and Rhea launched into a monologue that was muffled in Riordan’s shoulder.

My king laughed again as he squeezed her tighter.

“I cannot hear you, little dove.”

“I am glad you are back!” she clarified unnecessarily as he allowed her to slide down to her own feet, but she glared at him in hurt and disappointment.

“I am so sorry,” Riordan assured her sincerely.

“Your Majesty, surely this is not—” Castor tried to intervene on behalf of all the other Imítheos who abhorred such public displays of affection.

Theo moved wordlessly but firmly between Riordan and the oligarch, enforcing the king’s space and privacy with his sister. And it made me smile when Castor looked livid that a Ktínos would presume to interfere with him, but there was no one to rectify the perceived slight.

Things were going to change drastically, and although such change would be painful, I was intrigued with the direction Riordan was going to take our people.

I was distracted from these thoughts when the scent of the witch next to me grew abruptly denser. Her natural fragrance was sweet and warm with a hint of clove, but it now tasted almost bitter on myadénes. I’d never noticed such a dramatic change in one’s scent before, so I glanced at her in confusion and saw her brows were pinched.

“His sister,” Ares reassured her before I could even deduce what was wrong with her.

She looked up at him in surprise that he’d noticed the shift in her mood, and then her neck and cheeks flushed. The embarrassment intensified her sweetness again, and it was suddenly unbearably potent.

“Stop flirting,” I chastised Ares in Aeolian so that she would not comprehend my words. He snorted at me.

“Provide yourskiáwith the emotional support that she requires, and I will not feel inclined to flirt with her.”

“She isnotmyskiá,” I snarled back at him in disgust, but I hesitated when I noticed the witch had turned her head to look up at me. Her eyes narrowed as she observed my vicious reaction, and although she did not know my exact words, I was sure she understood.

Meeting her stare unexpectedly had such a strangely unnerving effect. Like hitting the edge of an air draft and plummeting in an unexpected freefall. I had not realized before that her eyes were a striking amber colour unlike anything I’d ever seen before. Like twin flames had been immortalized in orbs of bronze tree sap.

“She seems angry with him,” she noted, releasing me from her piercing gaze and directing her question to Ares who was pleased to have more of her attention.

“Rhea is always angry,” he assured her with a wicked grin that made her smile back at him, and I made sure the scent of my ire grew potent enough to warn him away.

Just because I didn’t want the witch myself didnotmean I would not be protecting Riordan’s interests.

“You only think that because you always seem to be near me whenever I am angry. Do you suppose there may be some coincidence?” asked Rhea suddenly in Gaelic.

I jerked to attention, feeling foolish for not realizing that she and Riordan had approached and were awaiting our attention. My only source of solace was the fact that neither of the Imítheos were able to sense the implosion of competitive pheromones between me and Ares.

“My apologies, princess,” Ares gasped as he hastily bent into a bow before Riordan’s sister.

“Your army friends are always refreshing, Riordan,” Rhea informed her brother, her tone dry enough to make Ares wince as his tail lashed with his shame.

“They are indeed,” Riordan replied, looking amused with Ares before his gaze shifted to the witch at my side. His smile gentled, his eyes softened with affection, and I felt her relaxing too as she perceived his warmth.

Seeing it was like a kick to my gut.

“So,” said Rhea, her head tilted up as she too observed the change in her brother’s demeanour. “This is Amira. Your intended mate. She does not look the part of a vile monster as Castor promised. I am rather disappointed,” the princess claimed with one of her teasing smiles that seemed reserved only for her brother.

Rhea could be just as cold and unfeeling as any other Imítheos, but she had always been very close to Riordan. Probably because they had both grown up in the shadow of their eldest brother.

“I am sorry to disappoint,” responded the little witch, looking sheepish but hopeful as she rolled her shoulder to displace my grip. She stepped toward Rhea to accept the hand that the princess held out to her.

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