Page 52 of A Spell of Bones and Madness (Nostos #2)

Chapter Forty-One

Ander

T ime was not a luxury they had—it never was for a Kirassos.

Sitting together in the study, it might very well have been the last time the three siblings saw each other.

A great unknown lay before each of them and Ander hated it.

Hated that he asked his siblings to risk their lives, that he would send them to places they had not ventured before, all in the hope of peace.

What did peace even mean anymore? A world not tormented by the wrath of an Olympi? One where vile men like Edmund and Khalid did not rule? Weeding out that kind of evil was impossible. Someone would always want more. More land. More power.

Silver shadows cast against the walls from the rising moon, its eerie glow a contrast to the warmth the fire in the room held.

Fog crept in from the windows, though it was not from Ander’s control—perhaps his mother pulled at that tether of her own powers, attempting to shield her children from the course they must take.

Dimitris and Chloe sat before him, his brother with a permanent scowl on his face, his sister with her signature velvet hood pulled up hiding most of hers.

Ander may be the oldest—strongest, even—but his siblings got their chilling aura and villainous glare from their mother.

Even though they were of no harm to him, the looks still sent an unnerving tingle up Ander’s back.

Nexian wolves through and through, especially as they still came off the high of the full moon.

How was he supposed to ask them to do this? To sacrifice their time—sacrifice their lives? To believe in this cause when they could remain here protected on the isle, hidden from the world. They had already risked their lives once for him and each of them had almost not made it back.

“Are you going to speak, brother, or may I return to my bed?” Dimitris muttered, his right palm gripping the side of the chair, knuckles white.

A low laugh filled the room. “To your bed? You mean to pad about outside that cat’s room,” his sister shot back.

Flexing his jaw, Ander stiffened in his seat.

Whatever strange fascination his brother had with Thalia needed to stop—especially if they would be spending so much time together.

His brother was reckless, even more so when it came to women, and Thalia could not afford recklessness.

She needed structure and poise and order, something the youngest prince had never had.

“Can you two be serious for a single moment?” Ander snapped .

Both his siblings’ mouths closed tight, each sinking further into their chairs.

“War is on the horizon, and whether we like it or not, Nexos must be involved. As we know, Alentus has been overthrown and now has the backing of both the Morentian fleet and the armies of Harrenfort in the north—not to mention what allies our spies have not yet discerned—”

Dimitris cut him off. “And it is our fault Alentus no longer stands? Just because your dear Katrin lost her throne does not mean we should risk ours.” He flung his arm around the back of the chair, utterly disinterested.

It was true—Dimitris was never known for his decorum, but this was too much.

Thunder crackled outside the room, the air thickening.

But it was their sister that spoke first. “If you think this is only about our throne then you are more of a fool than I thought. Lyssa has seen what could be, what past may repeat itself if we do not fight. He will not rest until we are all ash.”

“Your seer is a maniae .” Dimitris stood to leave. “I will not fight. The wolves will not fight.”

“Sit back down,” Ander growled.

“You may be the eldest, brother, but as alpha I am fully in my right to refuse.”

“And as your future king, I am fully in my right to send you anyway—but I am not, I am asking as not your king but your brother.”

Dimitris did as he was told, returning to his seat. He may be reckless, but he was loyal. To his people. The wolves. To Ander. “Then what is it, really, that you are asking of us?”

“I need you to go to Skiatha. Thalia will be able to finish training the men and women there, to fill them in on what has happened these months. But she cannot go alone. I need someone I trust to protect her.”

“And Leighton cannot go?” Dimitris replied.

“No. I need him with me. There are other things I must ask of the nauarch.”

“So you send me as, what? A man in wait? A glorified guard of some seer? She can protect herself. I saw as much when we were in Aidesian.”

“In Aidesian, you let her fall! We almost lost her to the spirits because you turned your back on her for a moment. Rest assured, brother—if there was anyone else I could send to protect her I would, but we do not know if there are spies among us. Ajax was unaware of the infiltration of the Spartanis and it caused irreparable consequences. I will not let the same happen to my men.”

Dimitris huffed, clenching his fists, but clamped his mouth shut.

He was not known to stand down when someone berated him, although Ander wouldn’t have let him speak regardless.

His word on this would be law, even their father agreed.

It was curious, how outrightly against being near Thalia his brother was, yet strangely protective.

“And what of me, brother?” Chloe’s voice was short, like she already knew what was coming.

This was something Ander especially did not want to ask of his sister.

Where she would be going neither they nor their parents had journeyed in almost twenty years.

Their theía was a peculiar woman, with a particular distaste for their mother—or any shifter that was not from her pack.

A rivalry that stemmed much further into history than Giselle would ever mention .

”I need you to sail to Hespali. If we are to go to war we will need every ally we can find.” Biting the inside of his lip, Ander handed his sister a letter written by their mother. “You are our best hope at solidifying their support.”

Chloe scoffed. “Avra will not take kindly to me showing up uninvited.”

Ander leaned closer to his sister. “If you were able to trick Khalid and Edmund into letting you past the Alentian gates, surely this will be no feat.”

“That was different. Your life was at risk.”

“And as you’ve said, all of our lives are at risk if we do not fight.”

This time it was his sister who went to leave, fists clenched tightly by her sides, nails like claws digging into her palms, a deadly gaze in her eyes. “I will do this, but I swear to gods, if she locks me in a dungeon I do not care what you have to do or who you have to kill, you get me out.”

“Chloe, there is one more thing—”

”Don’t, Alexander, don’t even start,” she growled through tight lips.

“Take Farah with you. If Avra does not accept you being there—or worse, if she retaliates at the unintended slight—you need someone with her, let’s say, bloodline.” Chloe looked back at him, gaze blank, before she slammed the door and left.

Lacing his fingers behind his head, Dimitris kicked his feet up on the table. “She’ll never forgive you for that, you know.”

A low sigh left Ander’s lips. “I know—but we have no other choice.”

He wished there were—another way, more time, anything that would allow them to sit in this room under different circumstances. To laugh and drink by a crackling fire. To be young. To live. But like time, living was not a luxury they had.

“There is one more thing, Dimitris,” Ander heaved out in a sigh.

“And what is that, brother?” Dimitris raised a brow.

“I may be tasking you with aiding Thalia in the cause, but you are not to touch her, you understand? She has been through enough, and if I hear an inkling of a rumor that you have, I will ruin you.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Dimitris replied, faking a bow, but Ander didn’t believe a single word of the promise.