“Just as long as your mate does, right?” Argos asked, his voice now softer. “I’ll arrive tomorrow morning. You’re welcome, Alexander.”
The line went dead.
I held the phone in my hand for a moment. Tomorrow my father would walk through this temple. The priestesses would glare at us both, and the Heraion’s stones would vibrate in displeasure.
But my father would help, and Danae would get the signature she needed.
The next day, I stood at the temple’s entrance, watching my father’s helicopter descend toward the designated landing area. The rotor wash sent peacocks scattering and made the cypress trees bend like supplicants. Even the air felt heavier as Argos Stormwright approached.
The moment his feet touched Samos soil, I sensed it. Somehow, his overwhelming presence felt less heavy. It was still just as powerful as it had been in Maracaibo, but it didn’t weigh on me quite as much. The ritual in Venezuela had done its job. It was a shame that, in the end, it had been for nothing.
The House Hera priestesses who’d gathered to receive him shifted uncomfortably. But the Heraion itself was surprisingly quiet. Perhaps it knew Argos had come to help.
Argos strode toward us with the confidence of a man who’d never questioned his right to occupy any space. His eyes swept over the assembled priestesses with casual dismissal before settling on me.
“Hello, Father,” I said. My words came out sharper than I’d intended.
“What’s that insolent tone?” Argos’s voice carried across the courtyard. “You disrespectful boy. You really should be grateful you’re my blood. Otherwise, I would have never set foot in this place.”
Helena Winters stepped forward before I could respond. She wore her formal House Hera robes, but underneath the mask, she was likely as nervous as I was. “We’re all grateful for your assistance, Argos. Welcome to Samos.”
It was a far warmer reception than my father would have otherwise received. My father huffed but didn’t bother complaining.
Helena led us from outside through the temple’s winding corridors. We descended a narrow staircase that led away from the main temple complex. The air grew warmer as we went deeper, carrying the distinct scent of smoke and heated metal.
Helena stopped at a reinforced door. She knocked twice before pushing it open. “Your guest has arrived, Miss Wayland. Try not to burn down my temple while you’re working.”
“I make no promises,” Danae called back from somewhere inside.
Helena turned to leave. She probably wouldn’t care if Danae burned the entire Heraion down if it got us the results we wanted.
My father and I stepped through the doorway into Danae’s laboratory. Small fires burned in contained crucibles scattered throughout the room, their flames dancing in response to Danae’s presence. The smoke from various experiments hung thick in the air, making everything slightly hazy.
Danae stood from her workbench, wiping her hands on a cloth streaked with soot. She pushed her glasses up her nose, no doubt already bracing herself for whatever nonsense my father would throw at her.
“So you’re the brilliant Miss Wayland I’ve heard so much about,” my father purred. “I must say, the reputation doesn’t do you justice.”
A faint blush colored Danae’s cheeks. She cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders. “Lord Stormwright, I appreciate the flattery, but we should stick to the matter at hand. Time is critical for Andie’s condition.”
Argos’s smile widened at her direct response. He seemed genuinely amused rather than offended by her dismissal. “Of course. Show me what you’ve created.”
Danae moved to a secure cabinet at the back of her workspace. She unlocked it with a complicated series of touches that made the Hephaestus technology respond to her alone. When she turned back, she held a small velvet box in her hands.
She opened it carefully, revealing the collar inside.
I stepped closer, studying the device that represented our last hope. It looked nothing like the crude restraint I’d been imagining. Instead, Danae had crafted something that resembled fine jewelry. A delicate choker of interwoven silver and gold strands lay nestled in the velvet. Small crystalswere embedded at regular intervals. The design was beautiful, elegant, and obviously intended to be as unobtrusive as possible.
Argos’s expression changed completely. The practiced charm fell away, replaced by genuine respect. “Ah. I admit I had my doubts, but you really are as talented as they say.”
Danae met his gaze steadily. “I’m only determined to help my friend, Mr. Stormwright.”
“Excellent.” Argos leaned over the collar to examine it more closely. “I’m just as determined to help my son. So let’s get this show on the road.”
I stared at my father’s back, trying to decode this performance. Argos Stormwright didn’t help anyone without calculating the benefit to himself first. He certainly didn’t fly to sacred House Hera territory, or submit to uncomfortable proximity with priestesses who despised him, out of paternal affection. I wondered what his real angle was, what he stood to gain from Andie’s recovery.
But I decided not to question it. Not now, not when we were so close to a potential solution. I would deal with whatever price my father eventually demanded when the time came.
“The collar needs to be calibrated specifically to your aura signature,” Danae explained to Argos. She set the velvet box on her main workbench. “The process requires you to maintain a steady output of your power the entire time.”