“What is going on here?” He tucked a black Corinthian helmet with a gold plume that ran down the centre of it under his arm and scowled at the males.
A commander.
Maybe luck was with her after all.
“This one thinks she is the daughter of Hades.” One of the males almost laughed those words.
The commander pushed him aside and stalked towards her, placed his hand on the right shoulder of the male before her and moved him aside too. The moment his eyes met hers, he looked as if he believed her.
And gods, it was a blessed relief.
“I need to reach the palace. Thanatos was sent to rescue me by my father but he has been taken captive. We must save him.” She took a step towards the commander and his dark green eyes searched hers as his blond eyebrows drew down, narrowing them.
“I will not take you to the palace.” Those words leaving his lips came close to breaking her hold on the darkness as it writhed and hissed in response, goading her into attacking him. He looked her over again and added, “I will bring someone from the palace here to speak with you though.”
She wanted to fall on her knees and thank him for that, but forced herself to remain standing, not wanting to appear weak. A child of Hades would never act in such a way, and she didn’t want him changing his mind about her and deciding not to help her.
He disappeared.
Leaving her with the other soldiers. They all gawped at her now, exchanging muttered comments about her that were hard to ignore. She knew she didn’t look like a child of Hades, that her appearance wasn’t befitting of her status, but she hadn’t exactly been staying in a luxury abode for the last six centuries.
She flexed her fingers beneath her arms, a restlessness growing inside her as she waited. Who would the male bring to her? She imagined it would be another soldier, perhaps someone higher in the ranks than himself, or possibly even her oldest brother.
The male who had first laughed at her and had called her a beggar cast her another look that said he hadn’t changed his mind about her—he still thought she was a pauper, or someone trying to trick her way into getting close to Hades.
She glared at him, on the verge of putting him in his place.
But then awareness arced down her spine, a lightning bolt that struck her hard and shook her as a sense of power swept around her. The hairs on her nape and arms rose on end and she couldn’t breathe, told herself she had to be imagining it.
It couldn’t be.
Tears filled her eyes as she felt that heart-wrenchingly familiar power.
Heard a voice she had believed she would never hear again.
“What’s all this about anyway?”
She slowly turned towards the owner of that light voice, laced with a teasing note he never had been quite able to erase, even when he was trying to sound serious.
Swallowed hard as her gaze fell on him.
Her left hand shook as she covered her mouth with it, as her eyebrows furrowed and her heart drummed harder.
“Gods,” she whispered against her palm, still unable to believe her eyes.
He froze and his stormy blue eyes darted to her, and an unfelt breeze teased the tips of his blond ponytail as he stared at her.
Looking as shocked and overwhelmed as she felt.
Calistos swallowed hard and took an unsteady step towards her, his mouth falling open as his fair eyebrows knitted hard and a stunned look entered his eyes as they brightened like a summer’s sky.
“Calindria?” he breathed and swallowed again, looked as if he didn’t know what to do.
Or maybe he didn’t know what to believe.
She did.
Thanatos hadn’t been lying to her. Her twin was alive. He was alive and as grown as she was, had become a handsome male, much taller than she had expected.
His eyes filled with tears.
The ones that had been in hers slipped down her cheeks as she smiled shakily, trying to show him that it really was her. She couldn’t find her voice as all the hurt she had nurtured over the last six centuries fell away and warmth and light swept into the void it left behind, filling her and lifting her up. Tears blinded her as emotions whirled inside her, tearing down her strength, making everything that had happened to her roll up on her now.
She had thought she would never see him again.
And while Thanatos had told her that he was taking her back to her family, a part of her had refused to believe it would really happen.
The way Calistos looked at her, as if she was a ghost, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing either, made something else Thanatos had told her hit home.
Her family hadn’t abandoned her.
They had thought her dead.
Her twin had thought her dead.
That feeling grew when Calistos whispered, “Thanatos found you.”
Gods, she wanted to hurl herself into his arms and sob against his chest as he stood there, still as a statue while she wept, her feelings out of control now, sweeping her up in a maelstrom that was too powerful for her to fight.
But she couldn’t and it killed her.
She couldn’t risk it, feared she would hurt him if she did, even if she didn’t touch him with her hands.
She sniffled and swallowed, fought back her tears, aware of everyone staring at them. The moment her eyes left his and darted to the males watching her, Calistos’s eyes darkened and he growled at them all, baring fangs.
The soldiers were quick to leave, herding everyone away from them and giving them some privacy.
His eyes met hers again, a corona of crimson around his pupils that faded as he stared at her, as he stood there trembling as badly as she was.
He shook his head. “How is this possible?”
He reached out to her and she backed off. Hurt crossed his handsome face and she wanted to lay her hand on him to soothe him.
She settled for explaining herself instead. “I have a power. One born of death. If I touch anyone, they die… except Thanatos. Thanatos is immune to it. I don’t know how to control it. I wish I did. I want to hold you so badly. I want to touch you and know you are real.”
“Are you real?” he murmured thickly.
She nodded. “I am.”
“But I saw you die.” He leaned his head back slightly and frowned at her, conflict shining in his eyes now. “I saw it. I felt it. It was my fault.”
“No.” She shook her head again. “You died. I saw it. All these centuries I thought you gone… I have been dreaming up ways to save your soul.”
His blue eyes widened, shock dancing in them, but then darkness crossed his face again. “An illusion. We were both shown an illusion, one powerful enough to convince us.”
“An illusion… Only I do not think my death was a lie.” She looked at her hands. “I did die, but I am alive.”
He growled now. “The necromancer. He said he was holding your soul and we would never find it. It wasn’t hidden in a vessel somewhere. He put it back in you.”
That wasn’t comforting at all. She prodded her chest. She was dead then, but had been resurrected, which was why her soul had never crossed over and why she had never passed into the veil. The necromancer must have restored her soul as soon as he had killed her, using her death to sever the bond between her and Calistos and make her death seem real to him.
Just as it had made his death seem real to her.
Even as close to her as he was now, she only felt a faint sense of the bond they had once shared.