“You can heal him, right”
“I...” A sick look passed over the nymph’s face.
“Nysa, focus.” Talisa grasped her arm and shook her. “You can heal him.”
Nysa’s gaze shifted Talisa’s way. Their eyes met, and Nysa slowly nodded, but there was no certainty in her features. No reassurance, either.
Looking back at Zagreus, Nysa carefully laid the palm of her hand over his forehead and closed her eyes, as if using her senses to search for… something. And in the silence, as she waited, Talisa’s heart raced so fast, she was almost certain it would fly right out of her chest.
Nysa’s blue eyes snapped open. Lifting her head, she turned to several nymphs at her back who had been hovering close, trying to get a look at Zagreus. “Lavender. I need lavender soaked cloths. Quickly. There’s not much time.” Turning back to the guards holding the stretcher, she said, “Take him to his chamber. Place him carefully on the bed.”
They nodded and hustled off with Zagreus, breaking Talisa’s hold on his hand.
To another nymph at her side, Nysa recited a list of herbs and other supplies she needed. As that nymph scurried away, Nysa finally turned her gaze on Talisa once more.
“I’ll do whatever I can.” She gripped Talisa’s hand tightly. Her eyes were steady, no longer horrified, but there was still no confidence in those blue irises. Nothing that put Talisa’s fears to rest.
Nysa glanced toward the male still standing behind her. “This is Rhen. He’s the captain of the Prince’s Guard. Tell him what happened. Then come find me.”
Nysa left, quickly climbing the stairs toward Zagreus’s bedchamber. Feeling useless, Talisa watched her go, a mixture of fear and agony swirling inside that made it hard to think.
“Princess?”
Rhen’s voice brought Talisa’s around. She swallowed, reminding herself to focus on the steps. One thing at a time. She’d gotten him back. He was going to be okay. Now she had to make sure everyone else in this kingdom stayed safe.
“The border is unsecured.” She looked up at Rhen. “Zagreus’s magick is flickering. How many mages besides Ana was he training?”
“A handful. Four, I think.”
“Find them. Have them meet me at the tunnel door that leads out from the dungeon. We have to get the border resecured.”
Rhen whistled for a nymph walking by. When she stopped, he gave directions for the mages and told the nymph to hurry.
Talisa turned toward the stairwell that led down. As Rhen fell into step beside her, she said, “You need to send sentries to the stone arch. We killed as many satyrs as we could, but their remains will draw attention.”
“Yes, princess.”
“You also need to get any weak spots in the border fortified. I know there are other entrances. Those satyrs knew where that entry point was located. They were waiting for us to step through. Even if we can get the border reformed, they’ll still try to get in.”
“We’ll keep them out, princess. Don’t worry.”
Don’t worry. As if. She couldn’t not worry. Not when the life of every person in this kingdom suddenly depended on her.
Especially Zagreus’s.
“You’re all idiots!” Pandora shoved her foot into the belly of the closest satyr in the main room of the fortress, sending him stumbling back several steps.
He grunted and fell into the satyrs at his back. They growled and pushed him forward. His hooves scraped the rock floor as he tried to keep himself from going down, and his coal black eyes simmered with malice, but he had the good sense not to retaliate.
The only good sense any of these morons apparently had as far as Pandora was concerned.
Her disgust grew to epic levels. She swiped at a twig still stuck in her hair as she paced away from the pathetic beast whose name she couldn’t even remember. “I gave you one job, and you failed at even that.”
“But we didn’t,” the tall satyr to her left said, the one who was in charge of this ridiculous rag-tag group. “We drew Zagreus and his guards away from the stone arch and kept them busy all day, just as you instructed.”
She glared at the satyr leaning against the wall with a smug expression.
Tohr. That was his name. He liked to joke he was as strong as the Norse god of thunder. While it may be true he was stronger than the rest of these fools, he was also as dumb as a bag of rocks. And just about as useful to her at the moment.
“That was only one part of the plan.” She motioned toward the satyr she’d just kicked and the band of merry morons at his back. “These pinheads were supposed to kill the Argolean female. I led them right to her. Her gifts were bound. She was the easiest fucking target they’ll ever see. But they couldn’t even do that. They’re incompetent.” She picked up a pitcher on a nearby table and hurled it toward them. “Now every moment I spent manipulating Zagreus was for nothing!”
The satyrs lurched back as a group. The one she’d kicked cowered and covered his head with his hands. The ceramic pitcher shattered against his arms and head, dousing him with water, spraying over the others, the pieces clattering against the stones at his feet.
“From where we’re standing,” Tohr said, “it looks like you’re the one who failed. It took you too long to get her out to the forest. And I lost nearly fifty men thanks to you.”
Pandora whirled on Tohr. “I would be very careful with your words, beast. I am more powerful than all of your so-called men put together.”
“Not without your box,” he mumbled, crossing his arms in a defiant move that made her want to grind him to dust with her heel.
Which she could very well do with her box.
Of course, if she had any hope of getting her plan back on track, she couldn’t give in to the urge.
She drew a deep breath for patience, not willing to let them know why Zagreus was so important to her plans.
When she felt steady, she looked back at Tohr. “Without my box, you have no hope of getting Zagreus back as your leader. You should be kissing my feet and thanking me for taking pity on you and your pathetic excuse of an army.” She narrowed her eyes and stepped toward him. “You were starving before I found you. On the verge of dying out. And now look at you.”
“Yeah, look at us now.” He met her stare head-on. Not backing down. The others were silent, sensing a showdown. “We look pretty damn strong to me. Even without the fifty you led to their slaughter tonight. And with our newest prisoner, we might not even need a new leader.”
A tingle rushed down her spine. “What prisoner?”
One corner of his lips curled, just the slightest snarl when he said, “An Argonaut. A very valuable Argonaut. One who could go head-to-head with Zagreus. Or you, even with your box.”
Pandora’s mind rushed back over everything she knew about the Argonauts, her unfocused gaze skipping around the room. They each had unique gifts—one per warrior, though none were as strong as any of the gods. None but—
Oh shit.
Her gaze snapped back to Tohr. “Maximus.” The one the goddess Atalanta had kidnapped as a child, raised, and trained. The one, rumor had it, who possessed the power of transferability—the ability to take on the powers of any being he faced. “You found the Argonaut Maximus?”