Page 66 of A Spell of Bones and Madness (Nostos #2)

Bonus Chapter: The Wooden Hydra

Chloe

C astle Alentus was more daunting than Chloe had expected, towering well above the height of her own home.

Or maybe it just seemed that way, the monstrosity perched on the top of a sheer cliff rather than built into one.

Its dark gray stone contrasted against the bright white glow of the moon above and fire raged along the gate of the wall, casting winding shadows in her path.

Walking behind Chloe were six men from Alexander’s crew, three originally hailing from Leighton’s village and three from the mountains north of Hespali in Voreia.

Each of the men had spent time in the caves of Cyther, either as captives or as sorcerers, though those who once thrived on power dared not touch the blood magic anymore.

All of them wore long black cloaks rimmed with fur, beneath they donned white ropes, held tight by red chords.

They were careful not to show any piece of their tattoos, the Skiathan mark inked on different parts of their bodies.

Instead each bore a temporary burn on their forearm, thanks to a spell Farah had cast, of the twin snakes. His mark.

None of the men were forced to come, to walk into what may be their death.

Only volunteers were ever allowed to risk their lives in Nexos.

Alexander had instilled that same rule, one that allowed for voice and autonomy, with his crew.

Like Chloe, they were ready to lay down sword and life for not only their captain, but all of Odessia.

That didn’t stop any of the uneasy steps or shallow breaths that bounded in Chloe’s ears.

It was one thing to fight for the good of the world, it was another to do so unarmed—and unarmed they were.

Behind the men, a small wooden hydra was dragged on a wheeled cart.

A gift built by her uncle, an ode to the forbidden texts Alexander loved so dearly.

She reveled in the fact that the same texts King Athanas and King Edmund burned were the same ones that could have saved them—warned them what was coming.

The wolf in women’s clothing. Instead, the self-righteous men would believe the Olympi they worshipped would grant them such a gift.

Chloe approached the gate, which opened slowly, a single guard dressed in Morentian red and black leathers stepping out.

His sword was drawn and his lip was curled up, revealing the shaven teeth the soldiers of the southern isle all bore.

If only she could raise her lip in turn, show off her own sharpened canines that could just as easily kill the man before her as if she used a blade.

“Who dares to disturb the castle without invitation from its king?” the guard bellowed, brandishing his sword as if that would frighten them back into the woods.

Stiffening, only slightly, Chloe rolled her shoulders back, inching closer to the guard, locking her gaze directly on his. Her ice blue eyes sparkled in the moonlight, pupils dilating, inching out the blue for a deep abyss of black. A trick her mother taught her.

“How dare you speak to the lord’s favorite Erinyes with such vitrole, hamartolos ?”

The guard’s eyes glazed over and his shoulders slouched, dropping the sword to the ground with a clang. “I am so sorry, my priestess. I do not know how I didn’t recognize you,” he said, his voice monotonic.

“Well you best make it up to me. We have a gift from the lord to his loyal servants. A token of his appreciation.” Chloe glanced backward, holding her hand out toward the wooden craft.

“Of course, priestess, please have your men follow us in.” The guard turned and signaled to the two other soldiers who overlooked the encounter from the parapet above.

The main gate to enter the castle walls opened with a creaking sound, the soldiers cranking the chains that split the doors.

Fire pillars lit a path all the way from the wall up a sheer set of steps to the entrance of the castle.

In the dark it looked even more treacherous than the fall down the cliff outside the gates.

Katrin had warned Chloe to tread lightly though, to keep her wits about her.

There was no escaping the castle once you were inside the walls, except through the passages.

Chloe only knew of the one in Katrin’s bedchambers, the directions she must take to get there on a constant loop in her head .

They wound up the steep stairs, entering into the castle where the warmth of raging hearths hit them, a stark change from the autumn air outside, though she did not dare discard her fur cloak just yet.

Despite the warmth, an unnerving chill inched its way down her spine, causing the blood in her veins to course in rapid flows.

She would need to be careful, keep herself calm and undetectable.

That was the thing about sorcerers, the pharmakos of Hades especially—they could sense your disloyalty from the simple beat of your pulse.

It only took them a few moments to weave their way through the hallways to the great hall.

A golden throne sat upon a raised dais on the opposing end to where they entered.

A young man sat upon it, his shoulders dropped causally, his chin propped up in his palm as his gaze flipped back and forth between two bickering men.

One—the spitting image of the young man only many years older.

The other—attractive, but in a greasy way that made Chloe’s insides roll and bile churn in her gut. King Athanas and King Edmund.

Which made the young man—yes, she saw it, the glaring resemblance to Farah.

So, this was the Kohl her brother despised so much.

It was no wonder Katrin had been captivated by him.

His jaw was strong, muscles built, and he had a strange sort of lightness about the way he carried himself.

The look Chloe might mistake for empathy or kindness if she did not know better.

This man was anything but compassionate, rather ruthless and lethal.

Clearing his throat, the guard stomped three times at the entrance to the hall. “Excuse me, Your Majesties, we have guests.”

Khalid turned first, and Chloe realized why Farah loathed her father so much.

The way his eyes travelled up her curves, lingering on the place between her breasts where the robe parted, it was maddening.

But she could not let the king notice the soft hitch in her breath, or clench of her fists.

Next, Edmund looked over, though he seemed more interested in the men behind her—not of recognition or familiarity, but because they carried in the prized hydra.

It was only when Kohl faced her, that Chloe regretted her decision.

His brows wrinkled and he seemed to look straight past her facade.

“Khalid, Edmund, thank you for graciously allowing us into the castle. We have a gift from our lord—for your servitude and sacrifice.” She bowed, low enough that Khalid could see down her robe.

No manner of shower or soap would cleanse her body or soul of that vile gaze, but for her brother it was worth it.

“He is very pleased with you.” Her eyes dilated once more, and the three kings became mesmerized.

“A hydra,” Chloe continued, “for your ship, Khalid. It is a great honor to have Hades bestow such a prized possession onto mere mortals. You shall throw a party, to show your gratitude.” Her voice was clear, alluring, much like that of a siren calling sailors to their death in the sea below.

“You heard the priestess, gather all the men and women of the castle. Tonight we throw a feast,” Khalid exclaimed, so easily persuaded by Chloe’s charm and his own vapidness. The eldest king slithered his way over to her. “Come, priestess, I will show you the castle.”

It was then, as he slid the fur cloak off her body, that she wondered if she could restrain herself the whole night.

If she wouldn’t shift and rip his very heart from his chest. No—that was not the reason she was here.

But she vowed, as he breathed in her ear, whispering things he would like to do to her to show his gratitude, one day she would. For Farah. For Alexander. For herself.