It was him. Like night-blooming flowers unfurling beneath the moon, his power awoke my own. A chill filled me—somehow sending sparks of light shooting to life within my core. Already, the feel of his strange power had become disturbingly familiar.

He was there, somewhere nearby. “It seems you have a penchant for dramatic entrances,” I called into the gloom.

A low chuckle rolled from the shadows. Then he was there. Simply appearing from the darkness.

I willed away the light ready to burst from my fingertips.

“Aidoneus.”

A fluttering heat filled my chest and my heart pounded. I heard it. I hoped the noise drifting from the feast was enough to hide it from his god-blessed ears.

“Aurora.” He stalked towards me, a panther after his prey

I tried to keep my light at bay—to keep the flames suddenly smoldering within me hidden. I’d been able to control his effect on me when we were surrounded by the God-Blooded. But alone . . . the call of that cold darkness was staggering.

“Hiding, are we Princess? The feast is in your honor. Surely you should be among the males who fought for you today.”

“Am I not?” I backed away until my spine was pressed against the balustrade. “You are still here. I suppose you found a discus, in the end.”

“In the end. Though I must admit, the savor of battle was somewhat dampened by your abrupt exit, Princess.”

The hint of overripe fruit danced across my tongue. What savor? I’d seen his face when the boy fell. But that . . . the fact that we might share that feeling . . . it was too much. “Why are you calling me that? I’m no princess.”

A dark brow rose. “Are you not? You sit high on your pedestal while males fight for your favor. Sounds like a princess to me. Beautiful,” he said, closing in on me, “but powerless.”

I sidestepped out of his reach.

“Why. Why warn me?”

“I thought I was powerless.”

“Well, perhaps you will prove me mistaken.” He pressed closer, silver eyes losing their haughty gleam. “Why did you do it?”

A throb began at my temples. “Perhaps you should ask your lackey. She seems to have plenty of theories.”

“I’m not interested in Nerina’s theories. I’m interested in your answer.”

“Really? Because she seems very interested in you,” I said, anger turning my words querulous. “Is she your lover?”

The corner of his mouth turned up in the most arrogant of smirks. “Why would you care if she is? Jealous?”

“Hardly.”

“Then stop deflecting and answer my question.”

“I was caught up in the excitement of the Trial. That is all.”

My mouth tasted as though I’d bitten into a worm-eaten apple. I tried to keep the grimace from my face.

But Aidoneus wasn’t fooled. His gaze bored into me, too earnest, too . . . seeing. My power thrummed through my veins like a plucked string.

“You think I didn’t feel just as you did when that boy died? I saw your face. I know exactly what ran through you in answer. Power. Rage. It was just what I felt as his lifeblood needlessly poured into the sand. So don’t try to tell me that’s all it was. Your outburst—the scream that saved my life— was not simply the glorious drama of the arena.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Perhaps not yet,” he answered.

He was so close, then. Too close. His breath brushed against my face. The scent of him—salt and leather underscored by sweet jasmine—enveloped me. I turned my face away, trying desperately to rid him from my senses. “I didn’t ask for this. For any of this.”

He chuckled, low and dark. “That’s the way of it, Princess. The Fates deal the cards, but we choose how they are played.” His smile grew dangerous. “And what a surprising hand you played today.”

I kept my face turned away from the knowing accusation in his eyes, yet still . . . there was truth here. I remembered the look on his face as the boy died. How it mirrored every terrible feeling that had rushed through me at the needless death. And I remembered Nerina’s staff.

“You weren’t killing today. Not like the others. Not until . . .”

He leaned closer, bracing strong, olive-tanned hands on the rail on either side of me.

His arms held me prisoner without a touch.

“Contrary to what your countrymen would have you believe,” he purred, “not all God-Blooded delight in death.”

“Not even the son of Hades?”

“Him? Oh, especially not him.”

Despite myself, I smiled.

He returned the look. “I’ve given you a truth, Korai. Now give me mine. Answer me.”

I searched my mind, truth and lie warring, then I opened my mouth—

A loud feminine laugh drifted through the open doors. It was like a bucket of ice water thrown over my head.

If anyone came onto the terrace . . . Aidoneus was close, far too close to me. Fear laced through my gut.

“As you said, Myridian,” I began, voice freezing into the emotionless timbre I so often heard Elysa use. “the arena is a place of drama. I couldn’t let just anyone kill you. Not when Varian is so looking forward to doing the deed himself. We can’t disappoint my mate-to-be, now, can we?”

Every ounce of my will went into keeping that mask in place.

Aidoneus flinched, the movement barely there, then gone.

Yet still, his arms caged me.

Whatever he’d felt at my words, he recovered quickly. His lips curled in a bitter smirk, white teeth gleaming dangerously in the moonlight. “You want to leave? Then go.”

I straightened my spine, which was a mistake since it brought my face mere inches from his. “Move. Now.”

“Make me.”

He was large, though lean. Still, he near doubled my weight. And his power . . . I fought against the intoxicating pull of it.

But I was God-Blooded too, and I had strength enough.

He clicked his tongue, then gave the slightest disappointed shake of his head. His dark hair brushed my cheek and I drew in a sharp breath at the contact.

“You know," he said, "they say you are the most powerful Korai born in generations, but it seems to me that you have no power at all, Princess. You’re like a hen on her eggs, only keeping your power warm until you can hand it off to Varian. Then, I suppose you can whelp a litter of his children and live out your boring little existence in peace.”

He might as well have driven his fist into my gut.

Magic rose within me, fire and light burning through my veins, cresting and crashing like those waves so far below. And that power . . . it begged for release.

Gently, as if caressing a lover, I wrapped my hand around Aidoneus’ arm—around the wound left by the noble who would have killed him had I not intervened.

His brow lifted, wary.

Then I let go of everything coiled within me, feeling the Ether tremble at the release. Rosy light filtered through my fingers until my whole hand glowed.

Face bathed in the warmth of my light, his eyes widened. The incandescence spread.

And with this gift came a curse, if I did not put in the effort to prevent it. Without Selene’s numbing darkness applied first, came burning, searing pain.

The heat grew. I stoked its flames, far more than truly necessary for such a small wound. The tendons of his neck stood out and he hissed at the pain.

I smiled.

Then it was done. I released his arm, a thrill going through me as he stumbled back, his haughty face contorted in confused hurt.

I didn’t wait for him to realize that his wound was gone. Healed without a trace. I marched past him, chin high, and as I cut through the crowd and made my way toward my chamber, I told myself I’d healed him because I wanted it to hurt.

But I was a Korai and truth was my curse.