Page 43 of Summer’s Seduction (Sinful Seasons #2)
LARKSPUR
M y legs burned as I willed them to run faster, racing up the hill toward where our small cottage was. The sharp scent of magic swirled on the wind, causing the cold tendrils of dread to coil in my stomach.
My father was a green witch, useful for gardening or grounding powerful beings to this realm, but in an attack? He would be obliterated. Psyche was a witch, and I knew her power would be strong someday, but she was not yet twelve. I’d only been gone for an hour, but the rumble of the earth told me everything had changed.
The metallic tang of blood coated the back of my throat as I pushed my body to move quicker, the prick of my newly awakened fangs still foreign to me. I’d only fed from animals and the occasional traveler I met at the market, but I was fully prepared to use all of my magical reserves against whoever had dared to attack our home.
I rounded the corner, finding our sweet cottage utterly destroyed. Vines had torn the bricks apart, wild, poisonous barbs twisting through the rubble as pricks of my father’s earthy magic deflected what he could.
Chest heaving, I stood there poised on the hill's edge as over a dozen dark ones swarmed like a hive of angry hornets. And there, at the center of the mayhem, was Psyche.
Her silver-gold hair and pale skin stood out in stark contrast to the black bat wings surrounding her. I dove behind a bush as the mass of monsters turned down the narrow path in my direction, leading my little sister from the home we’d once shared.
Taking a deep breath, I willed my wild pulse to steady. Both of us wouldn’t make it out of this, and I still had to find my father, but if I was smart, I could find a way for Psyche to run. She knew the forest better than anyone. She could hide there until it was safe.
A current of magic rolled through the ground, feeling like it came from what used to be my home. I looked at Psyche, not surprised to find that despite the precarious situation, she looked calm. Her eyes were open, the icy blue irises so devoid of color that they almost appeared violet in certain lighting and were framed with thick, white lashes. Despite having poor vision, Psyche saw far more than a typical witch did, somehow able to catch glimpses of their essence or soul.
Not for the first time, I wondered if that was how she remained so calm. So utterly unbothered by the world around her. She’d been a particularly quiet child, and I knew our solitary lifestyle hadn’t helped, but I needed her to be bothered enough by The Dark Ones’ presence to want to escape.
Six dark ones escorted her closer toward me. Just a few more steps and I would jump out, stab the first, compel the second and pray to the gods Psyche got away. Right before I put my plan in motion, boots slammed into the path before me as a dark one dropped from the sky.
My brows furrowed as I watched the scene play out, realizing that I knew what would happen next.
This was a dream.
The dry earth cracked under the impact as the figure rose. His dark hair was shagger than it had been since I’d last seen him, but his cerulean-blue eyes were the same: Lucius.
“She’s a child,” Lucius said, his wings twitching as he looked over my sister. “Unbind her hands.”
“Can’t,” the man with the short nose and wide-set eyes answered. “Demeter’s orders.”
Lucius looked like he might argue but then waved them on. “Lord Egerius is waiting at The Glass Palace.”
Younger me drew in a sharp breath, the slight sound catching Lucius’s attention. His eyes locked with mine through the tall grass and bushes, nearly causing me to faint.
“All is as it should be.” My heart squeezed as Psyche’s soft, musical voice cut through the mounting tension. Lucius flinched as she turned her unnaturally shrewd gaze on him. “I forgive you for this and for what is coming.”
He swallowed, his deep cerulean eyes finding mine as if I would offer any advice on how to kidnap my sister. I held my breath as a few of the others started to turn.
“Go,” he barked, drawing their attention away from me. They launched into the sky, taking my brave, tranquil little sister with them. Lucius stared at me a moment longer, and I wondered if this was it. Maybe he’d changed his mind and was going to imprison me as well.
He only shook his head, staring at the ground as he murmured, “I’ll do what I can to keep her safe.”
I woke up with a start. The scent of leather and spice surrounded me as strong arms held me close.
“You’re safe, little monster.”
Morpheus’s voice calmed the erratic beating of my heart, but I couldn’t dispel the worry left over from my dream. I blinked, seeing that we’d landed on a large plateau set before the wide entrance of a cave. The gentle rolling of water over river rocks echoed from within, eclipsed by the gentle patter of hooves landing behind us.
My eyes darted from the huntresses slipping off pegasi, my focus snagging on the two bodies behind laid to the ground before meeting Morpheus’s guarded gaze. I wanted to tell him about the dream, remembering Lucius from the day my sister was taken, but now was not the time.
Arete and Megara were laid out on the earth, their cloaks wrapped around them in an attempt to minimize the red stains. People often talked about how death was peaceful, but death—the splatters of blood and putrid scent clinging to flesh long since cooled—was anything but peaceful.
Their life threads had been cut short far before their time. I hoped their souls inherited all the tranquility The Underworld had to offer, but I wouldn’t minimize their deaths by smoothing out the bitterness of their passing.
“There is a stream flowing with rejuvenating properties a few paces in,” Artemis said with her eyes locked on the bodies and her voice devoid of feeling. “They will help heal any wounds you have, restore you to your peak health, and purge you of any impurity. If the poison hadn’t been as potent, or the arrows had just grazed them, if we'd gotten here when their blood still ran, and their hearts beat, they would’ve survived.”
My brows furrowed as images of a small stream cutting through a misty morning flashed through my mind. Some were cursed—causing those who tasted their waters to want to dive to the bottom of the riverbed and stay there, or forget who they were, or invoke a thirst so intense, they drank until they died—but there were a few who had waters so sweet, you felt like a goddess. Most feared The Echoing Mountains, but I didn’t. I knew which waters to indulge in and which to avoid.
But how? How could I possibly know that?
Camilla placed a comforting hand on Artemis’s shoulder as Hebe stood, face solemn and cheeks streaked with tears.
“We will bathe their bodies to rid them of any remnants of pain,” Cyrene explained. “Once their souls have been purified, we will take them home to bestow rights fitting of a huntress.”
“Megara—” Morpheus started.
“Megara was killed in battle alongside fellow warriors,” Artemis interjected. “She will be given the rights like any other of my huntresses.”
“Thank you,” Morpheus breathed, the words soft enough that I almost missed them. But Artemis didn’t.
“Do not thank me, Dark Prince,” she hissed, her violet eyes flaring with a silver glow. “Had I known we were walking into battle, I would’ve insisted on a proper army. You assured me Egerius was harmless—that obtaining that cursed key around your neck was necessary.”
“The key was necessary,” I said before I could stop myself. I knew Artemis was angry, but I also felt how tormented Morpheus was at being betrayed by people he considered family. Not only that but after my dream, I knew where Psyche was. “My sister is locked in The Glass Palace. Morpheus secured the only way to free her.”
Pictures of clear, sharp spires rising from crisp snow banks rose to the surface of my mind. A single pair of small footprints blemished the landscape, fleeing from the rainbow prisms on the mountainside toward the marshy lands of the west.
I blinked, and the images faded, leaving only my frantic heartbeat. Before I could think too long on what any of it meant, Artemis’s harsh voice silenced my disjointed memories.
“One soul?” Artemis gritted out, her grief bleeding into anger. “You would save one soul over thousands? Hypnos is on the loose and very clearly being aided by a god. It doesn’t matter if The Sands of Time are still in The Underworld or if he is able to wield them in different realms.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Morpheus countered before I could tell Artemis just how many lives I would gladly sacrifice to save my sister. “If I am able to take possession of The Sands of Time and The Cornucopia sees me as its rightful king, Hypnos will no longer be able to wield it.”
But Artemis didn’t want to hear it. She shook Camilla off as she started pacing. “We need to figure out who we’re up against.”
“Which gods do you think would align themselves with Hypnos?” Hebe asked.
“Ares,” I said. All eyes turned toward me. I swallowed, glancing toward Morpheus as I spoke. “Lucius took me into a hidden room during the fight. He all but confirmed it was Ares making The Dark Ones so bloodthirsty.”
“It would make sense,” Cyrene mused, looking at the others.
“Perhaps,” Morpheus acquiesced, his eyes narrowing at my revelation. I waited for him to say more, but he remained silent.
“There is much to do,” Artemis said, the anger in her voice now a low simmer tempered by grief. “First, we lay their souls to rest. Once their bodies have been cleansed, we’ll return to our sisters to offer them the funeral rights fitting of a immortal huntresses.”
Artemis dipped her head signally to Hebe, Cyrene, and Camilla. The three remaining huntresses carried Arete into the darkness of the cave, and Camilla and Cyrene returned a moment later for Megara.
Artemis bent, lifting her broken body as if it weighed nothing. Before she could reach the cave, the air around us sparked with electricity, the thrum of magic causing the fine hairs on the back of my arms to stand on end right before the veil split. And Hecate appeared.