He didn’t owe Rhen any explanation, and he had less interest in being tonight’s gossip. “And tell everyone here to go home. What do they think this is, a damn resort?”
Rhen muttered “Yes, My Prince,” and slowed his steps.
As Zagreus reached the grand staircase and began climbing, he heard whispers and low voices but he still didn’t turn to look.
He’d become too lenient. Too complaisant. The nymphs and silens thought they ran this castle, could do whatever they wanted. They weren’t afraid of him anymore.
He reached the third level and headed for the tower stairs, his mood growing darker by the minute.
He was the god, dammit. He made the rules. They were nothing but mere mortals, and if he chose to, he could smite them all with one flick of his wrist.
Shoving the heavy wood door at the top of the curved steps open with his shoulder, he crossed the dark room lit only by moonlight coming through the tall arched windows and moved up the two steps to the raised platform. He shifted Talisa in his arms, pulled the covers back on the big bed, and laid her on the cool sheets.
Her head rolled on the pillow. Her arm flopped at her side. She didn’t move a single muscle. Just continued to breathe slow and deep as she slept.
Every single person in this castle was mortal, including her. And gods did not concern themselves with the opinions of mortals. How many times had his father said that to him?
“You’re as selfish as everyone said you were. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.”
Her words echoed in his head. Only this time, they sent a chill down his spine and a vibration through his chest he didn’t like.
She was right. He was selfish. He always came first. It was the one rule he followed above all others because if he didn’t look out for himself, no one would. Which was why everything he’d done since the moment he’d learned she’d fled the castle with Ana that night made zero sense.
He hadn’t been acting selfish since then. He hadn’t been looking out for number one. He’d been worried about her. Focused on her. And not simply on keeping her with him as he had in the past, but on keeping her safe.
Even to his own detriment.
That night—the fight with those satyrs beyond the stone arch—flashed in his mind, causing his pulse to tick up in his veins. Only this time the memories were sharper, more in focus. His own actions, or lack thereof, clearer.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs, then a gasp echoed at his back.
“What happened?” Nysa rushed up the two steps and pushed past him.
He moved back, snapping out of the trance he’d fallen into. “Nothing. She’s fine.”
“Fine? She’s unconscious.” Nysa moved her fingers against Talisa’s wrist, feeling for a pulse. “Rhen said she was limp when you brought her back.”
“She’s asleep.”
“Why would she be asleep?” Nysa placed the back of her hand against Talisa’s forehead. “Unless you…”
Her words died off, and she shot an incredulous look his way. “Unless you put her under a spell.”
His jaw tightened. He didn’t owe Nysa an explanation, either. And that vibration in his chest was growing stronger, to the point he was afraid it might rattle his teeth if he didn’t get some fucking air.
He turned for the door. “Alert me when she’s awake. I’ll have guards stationed at the door.”
“Guards?” Nysa said with a clip in her voice that told Zagreus she did not approve. “We’re back to this again, are we? What did you do to her?”
Too much. He’d done way too much to her.
And not enough at the same time.
He left Nysa without answering and headed toward the main level, where he arranged for guards to be stationed at the base of the tower staircase. He wasn’t sure what kind of mood Talisa would be in when she woke, and he wasn’t about to have her run off and do something stupid. Like march back to that satyr fortress and cause all hell to break loose.
Bypassing his bedchamber, he headed for his office at the end of the hall, pushed the heavy door open, and dropped into the leather chair behind the big old desk. He didn’t bother with a lamp, didn’t light a fire in the massive stone hearth, just sat in the dark, the only illumination from the moon shining through the tall arched windows.
This room was similar to his bedchamber—gothic arched ceiling, heavy drapes at the windows, and bookcases lining every ounce of wall space. But unlike the books in his suite, the ones filling these shelves had been collected by the maenads and the silens, a mix of fiction and nonfiction that chronicled their history.
He hadn’t read any. Had no interest even though his mono mia had always been a nymph. And as he sat in the dark and glanced around the cold room, he realized why.
Because he’d never had any desire to get to know anything about her race or her past, even though, technically, they’d been bound through several of her lives.
This time was different. She was different.
“It makes sense that I’m different, doesn’t it?” Her words in the lookout hit him out of nowhere. “Because everything’s different this time. Including you.”
He wasn’t different, though. Not really. He was still the Prince of Darkness. Still Hades’s son. Still immortal. Still doomed to the same fate, even if she couldn’t see it. He just didn’t know why he wasn’t acting like the selfish, ruthless god everyone knew him to be.
“I can tell you why.”
Nysa’s voice startled him. He looked toward the door to see her striding into the room with a tapered candle as if she owned the place. She lit several torches on the walls until they bathed the room in a warm glow.
“She’s still sleeping.” She blew out the candle in her hand and set it on the desk, then looked at him across the shiny surface. “Ida’s with her. She’ll alert me when the princess wakes.”
He didn’t like the way Nysa and the other nymphs called Talisa princess. As if they were privy to his personal business. He needed to get control of these damn mortals. And he liked even less that the vibration in his chest seemed to be growing stronger.
“Why are you bothering me?”
“To tell you why you aren’t acting like the selfish, ruthless god you think yourself to be.”
He stared at her with narrowed eyes, unsure if she’d read his mind or if he’d spoken those words aloud.
She was a healer. She had gifts. Had the mages taught her some of his magick? Or had she probed his mind when he’d been injured?
Nysa laughed and eased a hip onto the edge of his desk. “Don’t look so worried, My Prince. It’s not that bad, I promise. Love has a way of making us all act differently.”
He frowned, knowing that definitely was not the reason. Especially not after today. “The female is not in love with me.”
“Oh, I don’t know if she is or not.” Nysa crossed her arms over her chest. “I was talking about you.”
He choked on a breath.
Coughing to cover, he shifted in his seat and looked anywhere but at the nymph who was eyeing him with an amused expression. “You’re clearly mistaken.”
“Am I? You sacrificed yourself for her. You were ready to surrender your life for hers. And I know you gave her your gem. You never did those things before. You never would have thought to do those things for her before. What’s different this time? It’s more than her race. More than her beauty. No, what’s different this time is you. What you feel. What she makes you feel.”