CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Diana stared across the clearing at the man her subconscious recognized as the ultimate evil. She could barely feel the harpy gripping her arms behind her. She knew that Cadan was behind the line of trees waiting for her signal.
It was working. As long as she could keep her rage in check, she might get everything she’d come for. Maybe even her life.
But it was hard. Boudica’s rage scrabbled for the surface. Diana focused on her breathing and her plan. She couldn’t fail.
“I know what you’re trying to do, Paulinus. And it won’t work.” Her voice carried clearly through the forest. Oh, she was pretty damn sure his plan would actually work, but everything depended upon her convincing him otherwise. She wanted him bragging, boasting, while he thought that she was helpless; details were the difference between success and failure. “You want to sacrifice me.” She jerked her chin toward the altar.
“Indeed. Put her on the altar,” he said to the harpy. “I’ve waited long enough.”
“Why?” She struggled against the harpy that dragged her to the altar. She’d wanted to get Paulinus talking more. This was happening too fast. She jabbed an elbow at the harpy, but it only grunted. “Why did you wait so long? You’ve waited here nearly two thousand years.”
The harpy wrestled her up the stone stairs to the altar. She dropped to her knees, hoping the harpy would
let go, and winced as the stone bit into them. It didn’t let go, just dragged her up. God, this was going too fast, she was almost at the top. Don’t shoot, Cadan. She craned her neck around to watch Paulinus.
“Because of you, you stupid bitch!” His eyes flared, the light of rage glowing within them. “We needed the ultimate sacrifice—that of the one complicit in our deaths—to escape.”
Bingo. “Our deaths?” She emphasized the plural. “I assume you mean your son? But only one can escape through the sacrifice of another. The universe wants equality that way.”
“Indeed,” he seethed.
“What kind of coward would leave his son behind?”
He was on her in an instant, backhanding her as the harpy dropped her arms. She flew back from the blow and collapsed against the stairs. Pain exploded in her head, rage flaring quickly on its heels. She fought it as she tasted the blood welling in her mouth. Don’t shoot, Cadan. Please, please not yet.
He didn’t, likely because Paulinus had backed up again, breathing heavily, as she struggled to quell the rage turning her insides to fire. She glared up at Paulinus through her hair as the harpy dragged her to her feet.
“You won’t leave him behind.” She spat blood after the words, grateful not to see any teeth fly out of her mouth.
The harpy forced her onto the altar. The stone was cold and hard beneath her back.
“He’ll find a way to free me when he’s on the other side.” He growled the words.
She almost sagged with relief. It was his son he wanted to free. Her plan could work.
“You think to sacrifice me for him.” She laughed. A surge of confidence drowned out her fear, despite the cold stone of the altar that bit into her back. Boudica’s courage—no, her own—was rising to the surface. But she was going to try to win this with her mind, not her sword. Because she wanted to get the boy out. She needed to get the boy out.
“What kind of sacrifice is that?” She laughed again and watched as he trembled with rage at her ridicule. She, who was pinned to the altar, ridiculed him. “Killing your enemy is no sacrifice. It’s like a shepherd sacrificing a wolf and asking the gods to keep the wolf’s brothers from attacking his flock.” She chuckled. “Do you think they would listen? Do you think they would give him what he wanted? It’s no sacrifice.”
He threw his book to the side. “You caused his death. When he kills you on the altar, it will be sacrifice.” He swung his head around, searching the clearing. “Maximus! Come here. It is time!”
“Where is this son of yours?”
Cadan stepped from the trees. Vivienne followed close behind. The trembling boy was cradled in his arms, but Diana couldn’t bear to look at his face and see the fear there. It wasn’t a truly perfect plan, but it was the only compromise she could make. She craned her neck and watched Cadan lay the bound boy on the ground at his feet and raise his bow.
“Hello, Paulinus.” Cadan’s voice was harsh, his smile evil.
Had she not known him, she’d have wondered who the bad guy was here.
“You remember the Trinovante clan, do you no’, Paulinus? My father was king, until you burned our homes and killed my family. I’d be happy to return the favor.” Cadan dipped his bow toward the boy, but not enough so the boy could see. Through her rage and fear, Diana was grateful for his foresight.
“Let him go.” Paulinus’ voice cracked with fear. He stepped forward; Cadan stepped back. “You can’t kill his soul,” he blustered.
“Are you sure?” Cadan asked.
She could see in his eyes that he wasn’t.