Free Tangles and Temptation by India-Jean Louwe Page B

of his sandals that had come undone.
    Eris grunted in impatience. Yesterday had dawned with the arrival of this rather bloodthirsty young boy. The sun had been baking down upon his bare back as he’d stood awaiting the scheduled battle. Only his opponent had seen fit to make him wait. The shadow extending on the sundial clearly displayed the passing of midday. Eris could understand his tardiness now. It must have been a mission simply gearing up. As the lad, no higher than his shoulders, approached, he asked, “Are you quite certain you wish to embark on this task? I would implore you to return to your realm and allow time to aid your sprouting a bit more.”
    The lad chose to answer the insult with action rather than words. Unfortunately the sword he tried to lever never let the ground. It dragged a wide arc before him.
    Eris winced and shook his head. He shouted for the guard at the gate, “Hand the boy a razor. And remove this sword, or we shall be here all afternoon. And the arena would be scrapped clean of all sand.”
    As the guards rushed to do his bidding, he assessed the people streaming into the seating area of the arena. It appeared there was not much work to be done this day. For some reason, a rumor had made its way around that this youth was the dreaded attack everyone awaited from Cronus. While he expected the attack to come any day now, judging from the reports of attacks of cities and villages ever nearing Argos, he strongly doubted the boy who now stood before him was the anticipated instrument of destruction. There could be any number of reasons for the lad’s loud and proud challenge, not that Eris could easily name one.
    Reports came in daily of whole villages being burnt down to ash and entire cities being plundered and mercilessly wiped clean of its inhabitants. But none thus far had been able to place a positive description of the beast. The descriptions had come. Alas, each description had differed vastly from each other.
    Eris suddenly spotted Kyra. She occupied the high balcony together with other great lords and ladies. Of course, the queen occupied the spot right beside her. Kyra sat not within the shelter of the shade provided by the great canopy but remained standing against the guard rail, in the sun. Her hair, neatly plaited and piled high on her head, shone like a precious jewel under the shimmering golden rays. He heaved a deep sigh of relief. She had overcome her injuries quite deftly. The only physical evidence of his loss of control was the slightly darkened area on her throat surrounding the marks of the fangs— his markings. For no logical reason, a surge of pride and fierce possession swept through him.
    His eyes narrowed in speculation. The point she sought to drive home as she languished against the rail with a cooling goblet of wine was not lost on him. He recalled the last time he had seen her on that very balcony. She stared down at him defiantly, daring him to repeat his prior feat. Eris, however, had no wish to mount the walls yet again and vault over the railing. By all accounts he preferred to keep his distance from her. He could not resist giving her a mocking bow, however.
    She must know by now her own foolishness in the misunderstanding of her eavesdropping. Another would have strove to duck their heads in embarrassment but not Kyra. Oh no. She thrust her chin arrogantly up and stared down the length of her nose at him with no sense of remorse, no shame. She carried herself as though all around her were beneath her, like she was the queen herself.
    Eris turned his attention back to his opponent. The lad tested the lighter weapon by flicking a few dangerous arcs into the air. The delicate but lethal blade swished through the air with audible slices. Eris smirked. At least the boy seemed to be more proficient with the razor and this would not be an entirely wasted venture. He swung the weapon of his choice, the sickle, around in swift circles, rotating his wrist with