Those images of Talisa straddling his hips pinged around in his brain again. He looked at the sheets beside him, almost thought he could smell her there, but still couldn’t figure out how or why or what the hell was going on.
Grasping the blanket, he wrapped it around himself, then grunted as he stood and hobbled toward the tall, arched window.
Someone had drawn the drapes. As he pulled one side back, sunlight streamed into the room, burning his retinas. He winced and turned away, clutching the blanket ends together at his chest while he blinked rapidly to let his eyes adjust to the brightness.
Voices echoed below. The clash of metal sounded once more. And that familiar feminine laughter rose up in the air, distracting him from the lingering pain in his body.
Several nymphs rushed around the courtyard, but his gaze skipped past them. To the grassy area just beyond. To the blades clanking. Where a handful of other nymphs stood, watching as Rhen and—holy shit—Talisa sparred on the grass.
He closed his eyes, sure he was hallucinating. She couldn’t be here. He’d let her go. Told her to leave. Released her. But when his eyelids lifted and he focused once more, she was still there.
She was no longer wearing the torn and filthy gown his fucked-up head tried to tell him had been stained with blood. Instead, she was dressed in the chunky-heeled, knee-high boots, tight black pants, long-sleeved blouse, and black leather bustier she’d been wearing the night they’d met in that club. Her hair was pulled back in a neat tail that fell down her sexy spine, her cheeks were flushed, and she wielded that blade with deadly precision, just as she had in those woods against the satyrs.
Holy Hell. That had all been real.
His spine tingled as he watched Talisa battle Rhen back, her weapon whirring through the air as she arced out, the muscles in her arms and legs flexing with the movements. She was like a cat playing with her prey. Every time she’d get close enough for a death blow, she’d back off and give Rhen another chance. He was good, but she was clearly better, and they both knew it.
Talisa backed Rhen into the rock half-wall that separated the courtyard from the grass, smirked and stepped back, lowering her blade. The moment she did, Rhen charged.
Zagreus tensed where he stood at the window watching, but Talisa clearly predicted the move. She ducked under Rhen’s sword, rolled across the grass, popped up, and brought the flat of her blade down against his back.
Rhen froze. Sweaty and breathing hard, he slowly glanced over his shoulder. A slow smile spread across his face. And muffled because of the distance and the glass, Zagreus heard Rhen say, “You win, princess. But I want you to teach me that move.”
Talisa lowered her weapon and smiled. The nymphs clapped in obvious awe. Rhen laughed at something Talisa said. But Zagreus couldn’t focus on their words. He was too busy staring at her face. At the grin across her lush lips that lit up her eyes and made her ten thousand times more beautiful than he remembered.
She was in her element, he realized. Wearing that sinfully sexy get-up, a blade in her hand, doing the one thing she’d been born to do—fight.
Images filled his mind again—the battle with those satyrs; him, falling to the ground; her, leaning over him, pulling on his arms. And her voice, whispering. “I’m not leaving you out here. We’re going back to the castle together.”
Followed by other words. Whispered in his ear. In the dark. He just wasn’t sure where. Or why.
“Don’t you dare give up. You hold on. Hold on just a little bit longer. For me.”
His skin grew hot. She had no reason to say those things to him. No reason to be here anymore. And neither did he.
Turning away from the window, unable to look at her as he tried to make sense of everything spinning in his head, he dropped the blanket and stalked toward his closet. He reached for the first pair of pants he could find and the closest shirt, then shoved his feet into a pair of boots. Not caring what he looked like, he turned for the door, intent on figuring out what was really going on.
A guard jumped up from his seat outside Zagreus’s door, his eyes widening when Zagreus stepped into the corridor. “My Prince.”
Irritated someone—probably Nysa—had posted a babysitter outside his bedchamber, Zagreus snarled at the sileni, “Go back to your original post. You’re not needed here.”
“Y-yes, My Prince.”
“Wait.” Zagreus stopped a foot past the guard and turned back. “Give me your blade first.”
The sileni’s brow lowered, but he handed over the sword sheathed at his hip with no protest.
Zagreus gripped the handle and turned the steel in his hand. It was shorter than the one he kept in his room, but he didn’t want to waste time and go back for his own. “I’ll make sure it’s returned to you.”
He headed for the staircase. The grand hall was brimming with activity, nymphs rushing in and out of the kitchen, chatting and laughing about he didn’t give a shit what. Ignoring their startled looks and whispered voices when they spotted him, he moved down the last step and turned for the corridor that led to the courtyard.
Balmy air rushed past his face as he passed under the archway. The scents of earth and apples met his nose. Summer had quickly faded to autumn, and leaves rustled in the trees around the castle, a few falling here and there. But while the nights were already growing colder, the days were still warm enough not to need a coat. Something he was thankful for because he’d only grabbed a short-sleeved shirt.
He had no idea what time it was—afternoon judging by the light—and he didn’t feel like stopping any of the nymphs busily moving things around in the courtyard to ask. Nor did he care to find out what they were up to. His gaze locked on Talisa on the grass, the blade in her hand whirring in the air above her head as she moved in slow motion, clearly explaining some combat maneuver while Rhen and the other nymphs watched.
“It’s a simple move.” Talisa’s familiar voice echoed across the grass. “Forward—swing—back—twist…” She spun toward Zagreus, the blade slicing through the air with a swoosh.
He lifted his own blade to block hers. Their weapons clanked, the sound echoing through the courtyard like cannonfire.
She froze, and her eyes widened and locked on his. Behind her, he noticed the other nymphs were just as shocked by his presence, but he wasn’t here for them. He was here for the female with the violet irises, currently staring at him, not with shock as he expected but with…
Was that unease?
Why the hell would she be uneasy around him? Ticked, livid, irate… Those were emotions he expected from her. Not unease.
She straightened and dropped her sword to her side as those thoughts ran through his mind. “You’re awake. I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”
He watched her carefully as he lowered his own weapon, trying to read her body language, trying to figure out what the hell she was up to and why those images he’d seen before were now flashing behind his eyes in rapid succession.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked in a low voice.
“Training the nymphs so they know how to defend themselves.” She shot a smile toward the three standing near Rhen. “They’re green, but not as green as I thought. Fast learners, they are.”
That made absolutely no sense to Zagreus, and it wasn’t what he’d asked. “They don’t need to train for anything. Ehrendia has plenty of silens to protect them.”