There was something unfriendly in the nymph’s voice, but Talisa was too busy blinking against the brightness to wonder what. And the fragmented memories suddenly flooding her mind were too intense to ignore.
The hike yesterday with Zagreus, finding the satyr compound, Max…
Before she could get too excited at the knowledge Max was really okay, another memory hit. This one of her and Zagreus in the trees, arguing. Him, telling her they were going back, trying to force her to leave. Her, breaking free and…
What? What had she done when she’d broken free of his hold?
“You’re as selfish as everyone said you were. I-I can’t believe I didn’t see it before…”
Her own words echoed back in her head. Every ugly one she’d uttered to him in anger. And her pulse beat hard and fast when she remembered that boulder rising in the air then whirring past Zagreus’s head.
He’d ducked out of the way, hadn’t he?
She swallowed hard, frantically thinking back. Yes, he had. That rock hadn’t hit him. Relief swept through her, but was quickly shattered when she remembered his words as he’d grabbed her again.
“Stop fighting me, dammit. And stop using your fucking brain strength to throw things at me.”
Wide-eyed, she looked down at her trembling hands and turned them over in her lap. Had she really done that? She’d never been able to move objects with her mind before. Couldn’t even remember consciously thinking about throwing something at him. All she knew was that she’d been so upset then, she hadn’t been thinking straight. And he’d been the one thing standing in her way.
She glanced over the bed and realized she was right in the middle of the mattress. The pillows around her weren’t disturbed. She’d slept here alone. He obviously hadn’t wanted to have anything to do with her once he’d brought her back to the castle.
She wasn’t sure what had happened after their fight, but she suddenly didn’t care. All she could think about was him. What she’d done. And why he would ever want to be around her again after she’d all but accused him of being the monster everyone else thought him to be.
Panic pushed at her chest. She looked up at Nysa, standing at the side of the bed, eyeing her warily, almost as if she wasn’t sure what Talisa would do. “He’s all right, isn’t he?”
Nysa’s eyes narrowed. “Zagreus?”
“Yes.”
“He’s fine,” she said cautiously. “How are you?”
“Stupid.” Talisa threw back the covers and moved to the other side of the bed. She was wearing a flimsy white nightgown again, just like the first time she’d awoken in this castle, but this time she barely noticed. She pushed to her feet and glanced around. “Where are my clothes? I need to talk to him.”
“Your clothes are being cleaned.” When Talisa turned to look at the nymph, Nysa said, “I brought you some new things to wear. If you’re interested. As long as you’re feeling better.”
It hit Talisa then that Nysa knew what had happened. What she’d done. And that the nymph had been sent to guard her.
“I’m fine. I’m not…” She looked down at her hands. “I don’t even know how I did that.” Her gaze met the female’s hesitant one across the bed. “But I won’t flip out again like that, I promise.”
“Hm.” Nysa’s gaze narrowed. “It seems to me your gift of strength is stronger than you thought. And that it might be tied to your emotions. Gifts unchecked like that can be dangerous. You’re lucky Zagreus was there to help you.”
She moved away from the bed, into the center of the room, and reached for something from the couch.
As Talisa watched her, she had another memory flash. Of her yelling at Zagreus that she didn’t need him, and him grabbing her and saying, “You do. You’re just too stubborn to admit it…”
Her heart raced all over again. He was right. She was stubborn. She’d always been stubborn. She’d fought so long and so hard for respect, for independence, for a place with the Argonauts, she’d convinced herself she didn’t need anyone. Not family, not a mate, not even a lover. She had herself and that was enough.
One other female in her realm had thought that way. One other warrior who’d been controlled by her emotions. By hate and revenge.
Her throat closed. Atalanta had felt that way. The female who’d kidnapped and raised Max. The female who’d thought she deserved a place with the Argonauts and who’d been so driven by vengeance when they’d shunned her, she’d traded her soul for a shot at immortality. She’d let that hate rule her until she’d become as powerful as a god. Until she’d turned into a monster.
Hate was a choice. One Talisa had flirted with all her life. One she knew now would only lead her along the same doomed path as Atalanta.
She didn’t want to end up like that. What she wanted was this, what she had here in this place. A real home where people respected her, where they needed her. With someone who didn’t judge her. Who challenged her and made her feel alive. With a god who filled her with so much light, she knew she was finally complete. Not broken and empty and alone, as she’d been for so very long.
All her life, Talisa had felt a kinship with Atalanta because of her situation, because of the markings she’d been born with, because the Argonauts had never taken her seriously. But now…
Now, part of her couldn’t help but think…
Maybe she was never supposed to join them. Maybe the markings on her arms, her gifts, even the Argonauts—though they didn’t realize it—had been leading her here the entire time.
To Ehrendia.
To Zagreus.
To this future, with him.
Nysa moved back to the bed with a stack of clothing. “The nymphs made these for you. They thought you’d be more comfortable in pants, and since the weather’s turning, you need something a bit warmer. Plus, this will be easier for you to wear under the armor.”
Still in a daze, Talisa looked up as Nysa handed her the clothing. “Armor?”
“The strongest leather in the kingdom.” Nysa moved back to the couch and returned with the green leather surcoat, which she laid on the bed.
It was sleeveless, with laces up the front for a tight fit and an attached hood. The hem hit just below the hips, but tapered to the lower back, which would protect the wearer as they moved in battle. There were also matching bracers for the arms, and greaves for the legs.
“Charmed, of course,” Nysa said, “for extra protection.”
Talisa ran her hand over the leather, awed by the workmanship. “They made this? For me?”
Taking the clothing from Talisa’s hands once more, Nysa said, “Come on, let’s see if these fit.”
In a daze, Talisa tugged off the nightgown. The pants were made from some kind of thick dark brown fabric she couldn’t name—tight but easy to move in. The tunic was a lightweight green garment with long sleeves that hit at her hips, laced up the front so it could be closed to her throat or open at her chest, and was decorated with intricate trim and stitch work that resembled the lines and swirls in ivy and grape garlands. There were even new knee-high boots with small heels that were the perfect size.
The outfit was warm and functional, yet luxurious, and as soon as she pulled it on, she felt like royalty. Warrior royalty. The only kind of royalty she’d ever wanted to be.