Page 16 of A Spell of Bones and Madness (Nostos #2)

Chapter Eleven

Katrin

T he faint glow of the moon would be their only source of light as they ventured the final streets to the townhouse.

The building was rather inconsequential against the others—red brick and half cleaned windows.

A safe house hidden amongst the merchant buildings.

Leighton approached the door first, rapping three times, then stopping, then two more.

A slat slid open in the door, and a set of worn gray eyes peered out.

“ Ethnikí Antístasi, ” the nauarch whispered through the door to the man. The slat slammed shut and a series of locks and bolts whirled and clicked.

When the door opened, a short, heavyset older man stood in its archway, the hair on his head matching the deep gray of his eyes.

A smile plastered on his face, edges of his lips curving up from ear to ear.

“Leighton, my boy! I’m so glad you made it.

Hurry in, hurry in now. We don’t want you seen. ” The man waved them inside.

Dark navy paint lined the walls filled with paintings of the isles and battle, even the Olympi.

To their right lay a room filled with plush velvet chairs and couches, a roaring fire heating the crisp autumn air that had followed them inside.

Men sat around in the room drinking from large bronze cups, bantering back and forth like there was no worry in the world except who could drink the most ale.

Katrin recognized a few of them from Skiatha, and those she didn’t, bore the same sea serpent and crossed sword tattoos on their arms. A group of deadly warriors who presently looked like nothing more than old friends meeting in a tavern to play cards.

It brought a warmth to her heart to see such a scene.

That such goodness could still be found even in the darkest of hours.

Even when so much was at stake. For this moment—short moment—they could just be men.

“This must be the queen.” The old man bowed toward her. “Pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.”

“Pleasure is all mine…I’m sorry, I don’t think Leighton mentioned your name.” Katrin extended her hand. That look on his face seemed almost familiar.

“Yes, yes, he often forgets about this old man. Cal, former captain of the Nexian fleet, at your service.” He extended his hand back, giving a firm shake.

Leighton snickered from where he had joined the other soldiers, greeting them with warm smiles and handshakes. “It’s hard to forget about you, Cal, when you never shut up. ”

Cal shrugged. “I don’t have many years left. Can’t blame me for it.” The nauarch shook his head and picked up a pint of ale he’d been offered. “And who else do we have? Silver hair, blue eyes”—he sniffed the air—“smells like she rolled around with the hounds…”

The young wolf narrowed those icy eyes, but her grin curved up so high and her shoulders softened. “You know, Uncle, you really are something.” She wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. “I’ve missed you.”

Uncle? So this Cal was Chloe’s blood, yet Katrin had never heard of him. Now the question was—did he hail from their father or mother’s side? Her gut was telling her that she could trust him, but she still wondered what power he might be hiding behind that bright smile.

“And who is that brooding lady over there?” Cal pointed toward Farah, who stood leaning against the wall in the shadows, arms crossed beneath her cape, eyes flicking back and forth at the family that sat before her. Because that was what Cal and his men were to each other—family.

“That is Farah Athanas,” Leighton replied.

“Ah, yes, the spy. She looks much more—how would you say?—intense in person compared to her correspondence.”

“I think that might just be a trait of an Athanas. They always look like they are pissed off.” Chloe chuckled, but the sound was anything but lighthearted.

“Could be.” Cal didn’t look convinced as he glanced away from Farah and back toward Katrin.

“We have much to discuss, Your Majesty. If you wouldn’t mind a few minutes alone, I would like to discuss the only chance we have of rescuing my nephew alive.

Grab a glass of wine on your way in, this might take a while.

” Cal held open the door to the small study across the hall, beckoning her inside.

Katrin couldn’t say no to a glass of wine.

“Katrin—may I call you Katrin?” Cal asked, walking toward a worn leather chair in the small study, now just the two of them. Fire raged in the corner from a lavish fireplace, delicate engravings of the Olde World intertwining in a pattern around it.

“Considering we are to be allies, I cannot see why not,” Katrin responded.

It wasn’t exactly a choice she had to make. She needed this man’s help—any help she could muster, really. And Katrin had to trust that at least Leighton would not bring her to someone that felt ill will toward her—or so much that he would send her away without an explanation.

“Have you read of the Trojan War? The stories long before our time?” He handed her another worn book that looked eerily familiar, its weathered pages, simple clothbound cover.

The Odyssey. “The story of how they won the war is only briefly mentioned in this book, however the tales of the heroes have been passed down through generations among our people.”

Heart clenching, Katrin reached for the book. She would not cry, not in front of a man she barely knew, a fierce warrior, so it seemed. “I—I don’t think I understand.” Sweat began to build at the base of her neck.

“The Trojans were vain; they believed themselves to be untouchable until the war, and that fateful day when the isles retreated—or rather, pretended to retreat—they rejoiced. Left in the place of the foreign soldiers was a wooden horse. Yes, they had lost men, but they had seemingly won the war. So they wheeled the gift inside their gates and threw a celebration. Little did they know, men from the isles hid within that horse, and as they slept the city burned.”

Katrin’s eyes widened and she choked on air. “Are you—are you saying we are to hide inside a horse?”

He could not mean for them to actually build such a creature?

The only person that could piece together something so grand, so ostentatious in the short period of time they needed was…

Callax— Cal. One of the kinder of the Grechi and brother to Nikolaos, but he was not supposed to live in this realm and yet there the old man sat.

She had heard stories of the god when she was a child, the gray-haired man that worked in a forge in the sky, creating weapons and ships for the most noble of soldiers.

“Not exactly. I am saying we will hide in a hydra.” The God of Craft smiled.

Katrin’s heart stuttered a few beats. What did he mean they would sneak in through the gates of Alentus in a hydra?

The god’s face was steadfast, still kind in the way his eyes sparkled at her, but no hints of humor showed.

Seated beside Cal, Katrin placed the book back on the table in front of them, reaching for the tall goblet of wine he’d poured for her.

Acid swirled in her stomach at the thought of tricking Edmund and Khalid with such an object.

Cal had been right—she would need a large glass of red for this conversation.

“I am not entirely sure I understand. You expect us to erect some grandiose wooden creature—large enough, mind you, that our crew can fit in—and sneak into my castle without being caught?” Katrin couldn’t help but stutter on the words .

“Crafting and transporting such a thing is not of concern. I am able to do both with little effort.” The old man smiled, cupping his hands in front of him.

“But we will need one volunteer to sell the ruse. To lead the object in through the gates. If the men believe it is a gift, I am sure their pride will look right past what is occurring.”

“But you are one of the original pantheon of the Grechi. What about the Binding Law? What about interfering in the will of the Fates? There will be consequences.” He couldn’t aid her, not through magic, the balance would shift and there would be irreversible consequences.

Cal lowered his voice, leaning in closer to Katrin as he spoke. “These are times of war, Katrin, the consequences are worth it.”

He was insane. The plan was insane. But it was so insane it might just work.