“Possibly. Why?”
“Feel like going undercover?”
“What the fuck is going on, Apollo? I need more information.”
“King Stefan of Graeline is asking for our assistance. I was going to send a team to investigate, but I think it deserves my full attention.” For as long as I’ve known Ares, he’s always been able to tell when I’m lying and right now only proves how well.
“Bullshit, Apollo, something's got you intrigued. Spill or I hang up now,” he threatens, and I snort.
“The princess got on the phone and begged for my help.”
“A fucking princess?” I think for the first time in our friendship, I’ve shocked the man.
“Yeah,” I reply. Staring at her photo, I have a driving need to meet her. “I’m sending her picture to you now.” I don’t know why the fuck I’m doing that.
Too late. I’ve hit send, and as I hear Ares whistle, I get the feeling I won’t like what he’s about to say.
“Damn. Those fucking eyes. I’d like to meet this girl.”
“Take the case,” I encourage.
“When do you leave?”
“I’ll be there in the morning,” I respond.
“I’ll meet you there.” He hangs up before I can say anything else.
Placing my phone on the desk, I wonder how the hell this is going to go down. I’m not just curious about Arianna; I have a primal urge to learn everything about her.
And I understand Matthew well enough to know that he does now too.
Ares
For years, I was perceived as a villain. Shipped off to one of the worst prisons on the face of the earth. I lived in hell for a crime I didn’t commit.
I hardened.
My humanity stripped.
And still, I retain a conscience.
How, I’ll never understand. The difference between the Matthew Norbury—wrongly accused—to the Ares—ultimately released—is that I’ve cast out every last remaining piece of my former self from my soul. My family abandoned me, my team slaughtered—except for Apollo—and now, I’m only called upon when someone needs something.
When the trash needs to be taken out is when I can be of service to others.
Except now.
I don’t know why I had the impulse to call my former teammate, only that I did it without thought. Asher “Apollo” McCall is a man everyone underestimates, and the only one I’ll ever trust. We went through the seven trials of hell together and barely survived.
Together, we have always been stronger.
Until now.
After getting off the phone with him and hearing the way he spoke about this mysterious princess, and my own impression of the girl, I know we’re not going to see eye to eye on this case. There is something about the woman; it’s in her eyes. They’re hypnotic, trance-like. And I can’t stop staring at her.
Inhaling a deep breath, I spin away from my computer and call the only man I know who will have info on the scum dealing in flesh across the pond.
“This is Banks,” the man answers on the first ring. He's like me, solitary and intentionally alone. He lives for his work.
“It’s Ares. I need some information on flesh dealings in the UK.” Straight to the point. I see no reason to beat around the bush.
“Ares, good to hear from you. Glad you weren’t blown to bits like your friend nearly was.” Fucking Foster Halsey, dumb son of a bitch. He had no idea how badly I wanted to snap his neck for risking his life when Evie needed him. For a minute there, I was tempted to keep the girl for myself. She might have been timid, but I’ve never encountered a stronger woman.
“Yeah, me too. Look, have you heard of Graeline? They might have a trafficking problem, and I need to get in.” I don’t want to waste any more time than necessary. I have a flight to catch and only an hour to get to the airport before I miss it.
“Ohhh, mate, you definitely want to look into Judas Willows. He discovered that little gem about a decade ago. There was some buzz about mystical shit happening over there, and he found the young girls to be quite the little beauties.” I remember hearing about that but didn’t pay much attention to it.
“Can you get me in?” I growl. It’s all I care about right now.
“Give me forty-eight hours, and you’ll have a meeting. I heard a rumor that they’re looking for a guard.” I’m hung up on again as I toss clothes into a bag. Without being able to bring weapons with me, I shoot a text to Apollo to ascertain what I’m going to need.
It'll give me twenty-four hours to discover what’s so enchanting about Princess Arianna before I have to leave and infiltrate this trafficking ring. If I have my way, once I’m finished with them, there won’t be anything left.
2
Arianna
With my hood secured over my head and my robe closed, hiding me from view, I stroll through the village, both saddened and frightened by what I see. Cherish has become a wasteland. At one point, it was a vibrant and welcoming populace, now it’s cold, sad, bleak. It reeks of death as I walk along the walls, trying to remain an obscure observer as I wander through the streets of the market.
In so many ways, Graeline has not evolved with the rest of the world. We separate ourselves into dozens of small villages. A castle on the hill overlooks its people. There aren’t many vehicles, and technology does not run rampant through every home like so many other areas.
I've always enjoyed the solitude, but now I wonder if we wouldn’t have been better off consumed by social media, fake news, and so much vanity.
Our people have always enjoyed the simple things, but seeing them now, frightened to their cores and nearing hysteria makes me wish I could do something. That I was more than a silly girl.
Not paying attention to where I’m going, I bump into a bulky mass. “Apologies,” I murmur, keeping my head down, trying to make my escape.
Strong hands grab me by either arm and immobilize my momentum. Frozen with fear, I can’t get my voice to work to call out for help.
“Whoa, there. Are you alright?” That voice. I know it. The slight lilt of an accent mixed with the caring concern of a powerful man.
“Apollo?” I turn, my hood falling away, and meet his deep, chocolate stare filled with surprise.
“Princess?” He masks his response quickly. I nod once. “What the fuck are you doing out here?” Unexpected hands behind me raise my hood to cover my hair and face before anyone notices who I am.
Turning my head, I take in another man. He’s darker. Harder to read. But he makes my blood rush just as fiercely as Apollo does.
“Ares?” I whisper, and they both suck in a shocked breath. Callista told me before I left that war was coming. The gods had landed, was the way she put it. Her visions aren’t always accurate, and I usually have to decode what they mean.
This one was easy given how large this man is.
“How do you know that?” Ares’ gaze narrows on me, and I’m rendered mute. Trapped in his aura of anger and confusion.
“The witch,” Apollo mocks.
My head swivels to glare at him. His insult is unnecessary. “She’s not a witch. She’s a mage,” I snap.