They are gods, and they choose as they will. There is nothing we can do to affect their decisions.â
Something dark and deadly gleamed in the back of Denalâs eyes. âNothing? I think youâre wrong.â He leaned forward as if to embrace Alexios and then, before Alexios could stop him, Denal snatched the daggers out of Alexiosâs sheaths and jumped back.
âIf Poseidon wonât take me, then Iâll give myself to him,â Denal shouted.
Alexios leapt forward, reaching for the blades, but he was too late. Denal plunged both daggers into his own abdomen and screamed loud and long as he fell back to his knees in a grotesque parody of his earlier position, blood streaming down his shirt.
âTwo blades for two lives, Poseidon,â he cried out. âItâs all I have to give. Let it be enough, or I will battle you through all the levels of the nine hells.â
Somewhere behind him, Alexios dimly heard Keely screaming. Justice shouting. Even Brennan, calling out for help. But none of it penetrated. None of it mattered. The warrior Alexios had once mentored for half a century had just killed himself in front of his eyes, and Alexios had done nothing. Heâd failed him. Like heâd failed Prince Conlan, when Anubisa came for him. Like he failed everyone.
Lost in soul-deep anguish beyond the bearing of it, Alexios threw back his head and roared out his pain and denial.
âNot what I expected to find,â a dry, calm voice said over his shoulder. âBleeding, shouting, and self-inflicted evisceration. What is it about you warriors?â
âAlaric, damn you,â Alexios choked out. âYouâre Poseidonâs high priest, so act like it . Heal him. Now. â
Alaric knelt beside Alexios and flicked a sardonic glance his way. âShould I invalidate such a noble sacrifice? Even though Riley and the baby are now doing much better, and the First Maiden told us five minutes ago that a healthy birth is imminent? Perhaps Poseidon would not approve.â
âIf you donât heal him in the next five seconds, my daggers are going to be digging a hole in your belly,â Alexios gritted out, knowing the priest was toying with him but not understanding how Alaric could do such a thing while Denal lay dying on the floor in front of them.
Certainly Alaric had grown darker and more silent of late. All of them had noticed it. But to actually let the warrior die when he could help . . . Alexios could not believe it of the priest whoâd healed them all, so many times.
Alaric turned his dark gaze to Denal, his face hardening at the grim sight of the warrior sprawled gracelessly in a pool of his own spreading blood. âHeâs very nearly gone. Get out of my way.â
Alexios scrambled backward to give the priest room to work. Alaric called power so swiftly and strongly that Alexiosâs skin tried to crawl off his bones as the powerful rush of magical energy filled the room. Alaricâs hands glowed in the exact center of two pulsing blue-green spheres.
The priest leaned forward and grasped the hilts of the daggers, chanting something under his breath. Yet where Denal had prayed to Poseidon for death, Alaric was praying to the same god for life.
Denalâs life.
With one powerful yank, Alaric drew both daggers from Denalâs abdomen and tossed them to the floor. Never breaking his chant, he spread his hands over the torn flesh, and the light from the energy spheres sank into Denalâs body through his open wounds.
Silently, Alexios added his own prayers. Denal couldnât die this way. Not through a useless, unnecessary sacrifice. Riley was going to be fineâhad already turned the corner before Denal had plunged the daggers into his own flesh.
Surely Poseidon would accept the spirit of the sacrifice and release Denal from its finality. But Poseidon had released Denal from death once before . . .
How many miracles would the sea god
Something dark and deadly gleamed in the back of Denalâs eyes. âNothing? I think youâre wrong.â He leaned forward as if to embrace Alexios and then, before Alexios could stop him, Denal snatched the daggers out of Alexiosâs sheaths and jumped back.
âIf Poseidon wonât take me, then Iâll give myself to him,â Denal shouted.
Alexios leapt forward, reaching for the blades, but he was too late. Denal plunged both daggers into his own abdomen and screamed loud and long as he fell back to his knees in a grotesque parody of his earlier position, blood streaming down his shirt.
âTwo blades for two lives, Poseidon,â he cried out. âItâs all I have to give. Let it be enough, or I will battle you through all the levels of the nine hells.â
Somewhere behind him, Alexios dimly heard Keely screaming. Justice shouting. Even Brennan, calling out for help. But none of it penetrated. None of it mattered. The warrior Alexios had once mentored for half a century had just killed himself in front of his eyes, and Alexios had done nothing. Heâd failed him. Like heâd failed Prince Conlan, when Anubisa came for him. Like he failed everyone.
Lost in soul-deep anguish beyond the bearing of it, Alexios threw back his head and roared out his pain and denial.
âNot what I expected to find,â a dry, calm voice said over his shoulder. âBleeding, shouting, and self-inflicted evisceration. What is it about you warriors?â
âAlaric, damn you,â Alexios choked out. âYouâre Poseidonâs high priest, so act like it . Heal him. Now. â
Alaric knelt beside Alexios and flicked a sardonic glance his way. âShould I invalidate such a noble sacrifice? Even though Riley and the baby are now doing much better, and the First Maiden told us five minutes ago that a healthy birth is imminent? Perhaps Poseidon would not approve.â
âIf you donât heal him in the next five seconds, my daggers are going to be digging a hole in your belly,â Alexios gritted out, knowing the priest was toying with him but not understanding how Alaric could do such a thing while Denal lay dying on the floor in front of them.
Certainly Alaric had grown darker and more silent of late. All of them had noticed it. But to actually let the warrior die when he could help . . . Alexios could not believe it of the priest whoâd healed them all, so many times.
Alaric turned his dark gaze to Denal, his face hardening at the grim sight of the warrior sprawled gracelessly in a pool of his own spreading blood. âHeâs very nearly gone. Get out of my way.â
Alexios scrambled backward to give the priest room to work. Alaric called power so swiftly and strongly that Alexiosâs skin tried to crawl off his bones as the powerful rush of magical energy filled the room. Alaricâs hands glowed in the exact center of two pulsing blue-green spheres.
The priest leaned forward and grasped the hilts of the daggers, chanting something under his breath. Yet where Denal had prayed to Poseidon for death, Alaric was praying to the same god for life.
Denalâs life.
With one powerful yank, Alaric drew both daggers from Denalâs abdomen and tossed them to the floor. Never breaking his chant, he spread his hands over the torn flesh, and the light from the energy spheres sank into Denalâs body through his open wounds.
Silently, Alexios added his own prayers. Denal couldnât die this way. Not through a useless, unnecessary sacrifice. Riley was going to be fineâhad already turned the corner before Denal had plunged the daggers into his own flesh.
Surely Poseidon would accept the spirit of the sacrifice and release Denal from its finality. But Poseidon had released Denal from death once before . . .
How many miracles would the sea god