Brutish Lord of Thessaly (Halcyon Romance Series Book 4) (12 page)

Needless to say, he’d kept his hands—and his heart—to himself ever since.

Though his gut remained convinced of Delia’s infidelity, he’d uncovered no evidence of her lovers. He shouldn’t care, for he refused to claim her himself.

But today, oh, today was not the day to cross him.

Clenching his fists, Hector stalked forward, his hooves treading lightly on the alabaster tiles. The swaying of Delia’s angelic blond locks swept past another corner, and he rounded it after her, determined for once to catch her in the act.

And a not a damned clue what he would do if he did.

Sometimes, it was far better not to know the truth.

Petraeus’s strange counsel pressed into his mind, relentless.
Follow Delia.

He swallowed his trepidations as he came to a halt at the end of the corridor, breathing deeply before turning the corner. Delia’s lilting voice chimed a series of phrases and a beam of light spread toward him. He stepped out into the corridor and gaped at the Portal that shouldn’t be there. His wife glided through the opening, and the illumination condensed, closing the gateway.

Where the hell was she headed?

If he didn’t follow her through…

Hector rushed forward, leaping through the Portal just as it closed around him.

***

Delia rose from kneeling before the Amazon Queen Hippolyta III. Her Queen. Though she’d been born into a Lapith household, Delia’s mother had been an Amazon. Their clever Queen had arranged the marriage of one of her greatest warriors to a Lapith nobleman, and Delia was the result of her cunning scheming.

All to wed the centaur Lord Hector.

And one day to rule alongside the centaurs.

For a decade, Delia had prepared for her role, training as both an Amazon and a future Queen. Some centaurs might believe they’d forged an alliance with the Lapiths through her marriage, but the truth was, no Lapith King would ever align with the centaurs.

The god Apollo had ensured that.

“Thank you, my Queen.” Delia bowed her head once more.

“Go, my child. May your feet be swift and your blade sharp.” The tall woman’s blue-grey eyes sparkled with intelligence and wisdom. Though none knew her true age, the red mass of hair piled atop her head bore no grey and no wrinkle marred her supple skin. Her name alone had invoked fear and panic into generations of warriors.

Respectfully, Delia backed from her Queen’s presence and then spun on her heel toward the meeting place with her look-alike. The Amazon Astris posed as Delia whenever she had other duties to attend to, which was most of the time.

“You’re late,” the female grumbled, passing through the sweeping branches of a willow tree. “I did my best to appear sympathetic to the centaurs, but if you think for one second that I’ll seduce that loathsome beast—” Scoffing, she shook out her pale locks, the hue bleeding to a bright auburn as she cast off the cloaking enchantment.

“Astris, I would never ask that of you. Besides, you know the Queen’s stance on this.” Hippolyta had been clear that no intimacy between herself and the centaur should occur. He was their key to ruling the centaur race. The involvement of hearts had no place in the governing of their people.

Her subordinate, Astris, bore no love for this mission, or the centaur she pretended to be wed to. Yet Hector’s attachment to Delia provided great freedom in their manipulation of the situation.

The Amazon tugged down the sleeves of her dress and stepped from the gown, handing it to Delia while she switched into the belted ivory chiton of an Amazon warrior.

A crack of twigs snapped from behind Astris. Delia froze, one arm half through the sleeve of her chiton. “Did someone follow you?” she whispered to the other female, her free hand inching for the blade tucked into her boot.

Astris blinked, twisting around to peer into the forest.

Before Delia could charge toward the possible spy, half a dozen Amazon sentinels emerged from the forest behind them and, with cries of war upon their lips, surrounded the woods around the willow tree.

Their circle closed in and the grunting, low puffs of a male rumbled in her ears an instant before the Amazons dragged a centaur through the brush and shoved him at her feet.

Delia gaped as the male raised his head, black locks falling across the smoky hue of his eyes, swirling dark in fury.

Hector.

Oh, gods.
Just how much had he witnessed?

***

Hector’s horse reared, refusing to believe anything he’d observed.

It couldn’t be true.

Yet two females stood before them, and only one of them was his wife.

Which one?

If that weren’t bloody confusing enough, what was this talk about their Queen? His gut churned, the inklings of conspiracy and betrayal now stretched further than the infidelity of his wife.

He had to inform his sire. That was, if he made it out of here alive.

The golden-haired one who resembled Delia gawked at him while a dozen more Amazon warriors arrived and surrounded him.

“What do we do with him?” one whispered to another.

Hector swallowed thickly, his throat already sensing a noose closing around it. He was fairly certain he’d witnessed something he’d never been meant to. How long had this ruse gone on for? Was he even wed to either of them? Bonded? He tossed his head, scowling at the hazel-eyed female pointing a blade at him.

“Take him to the Queen.” Her brows drew together as though questioning her own order.

Two Amazons snared his arms and spears poked into his hide. Aye, he’d best walk. Hector rose and followed the group to their leader. He only grasped pieces of their scheming, but it was enough to charge them all with treason.

Or to start a war.

He straightened his spine as he approached the Amazon Queen. Her blue-grey glower swept him, a frown burrowing in her forehead. “What is
he
doing here?”

Ah, so at least everyone recognized him.

“Queen Hippolyta.” The two sentinels released him and he inclined his head. Although these circumstances aroused his suspicions, he’d better play into their hands and save his hide first.

She cocked her head at him and stepped forward, her intimidatingly tall form and robust shoulders graced with the fur of a bear, the beast’s fangs crowning her head. “Lord Hector. A pity you have found yourself here.”

He tensed. Ruthless cunning flashed in her eyes. This woman wouldn’t spare him. Not for mercy, not for alliances.

In her cruel eyes, he saw his death.

He braced his shoulders, refusing to flee or to back down. “If you kill me, my father—”

“Your father would never know. Dear Hector,” she tsked, “you are at war with the Lapiths. All I need do is deposit you on their lands and they will gladly take care of you for me.”

Bloody hell.
She was right. Perspiration iced down his spine. “You can’t do this.”

The Queen scoffed at him, spinning on her heel. “It’s already done.”

*****

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