And it was. His fingers were warm inside mine, and the feeling of his skin sent electricity jolting through me and set butterflies aloft in my stomach. I’d never felt such a thing in all of my life. He was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, mortal or otherwise.
Ares jerked his head toward Apollo. “We should get him to the palace and cleaned up. Harmonia, go find your mother and stay out of trouble.”
“No, I’m coming with you,” I answered as I tagged along behind them. Each of them had taken one of Cadmus’ elbows and was helping him limp toward the palace grounds.
“No,” Ares replied through gritted teeth. “You will go find your mother.”
I didn’t answer, but instead stayed right on their heels as they made their way through the gardens and into the servants’ quarters of the palace.
They entered a small room and practically dropped Cadmus onto a narrow cot. He didn’t utter one word of complaint.
“I’ll send a healer,” Ares said as he grabbed my arm on his way out. With Apollo behind us, my father dragged me with him, not stopping until we reached the gardens.
“Go find your mother,” he instructed me sternly. “I mean it.”
I nodded. “Yes, father.”
He nodded back, satisfied at my obedience and turned around to walk away. He went two steps before he paused and looked over his shoulder.
“And Harmonia,” he grinned. “That was an excellent shot.”
He was still laughing as he and Apollo disappeared through the garden gates.
I waited for precisely two more minutes before I made a bee-line back to Cadmus’ bedside. Bursting through his door, I found him reclining quietly, his eyes closed, his mouth tightened with his pain. At the noise of my entrance, he looked up in surprise.
“Harmonia.”
His voice was husky and deep and quite honestly, the sexiest thing I’d ever heard.
I took a seat at his bedside, unable to help myself. I poured him a glass of water and held it to his lips.
“I’m not an invalid,” he said wryly. But he took a drink anyway. “Thank you.”
“They are sending a healer,” I told him, trying not to look at the bloody mess that was his leg. “I’m so sorry, Cadmus. I really am.”
“Think no more about it,” he told me firmly. “You didn’t mean to hurt me. I know that. And I will be fine.”
He looked at me seriously. “You know earlier… when you held my hand?”
I nodded.
“I liked it.”
Color exploded in my cheeks once again, and I hesitantly reached for his hand. His long fingers curled around mine and I couldn’t explain the feeling that came over me. He felt…just right.
“You smell like honeysuckle,” he told me, closing his eyes.
“I know,” I told him quietly. “You smell like blood.”
He smiled, without re-opening his eyes. “I know. It’s your fault, though.”
“I know,” I whispered. I held his hand and watched him rest. And just when I thought he was almost asleep, he spoke again.
“Harmonia?”
“Yes?”
“You certainly know how to make an impression.”
I smiled.
* * *
Once again, I stood on my balcony, this time watching Cadmus hobble slowly across the gardens. It had been three weeks since I had shot him. A healer had treated him, but since servants were considered too unimportant to waste magic on, no one had bothered to completely heal his wounds. As a noted healer, Apollo could have done it in a scant second, but he wouldn’t trouble himself. I knew that much.
My parents had recognized my infatuation with Cadmus and had interfered in my every effort to see him. My mother had not left my side and even now, she hovered next to my elbow.
“Mother, someone needs to heal Cadmus,” I told her once again, just as I’d told her twenty times before. “Please. I hurt him. I cannot bear to see him pained by my clumsiness.”
She stared at me sympathetically. “Poor girl. You must feel awful. But you know how Zeus feels about using magic on the servants. I do not wish to risk his wrath for this.” She shrugged and I gritted my teeth.
“Why does Zeus even care?” I muttered. “It’s not like our magic is a limited resource. There’s plenty to go around.”
Aphrodite shrugged again. “I know not. You know how your grandfather is. It is a status thing, I am sure.”
“I’m sure,” I agreed.
Quietly, I watched Cadmus make his way slowly to a stone bench and lower himself carefully onto it. He remained still, watching the birds. Every once in awhile, I saw him wince, presumably from twinges of pain.
“I cannot bear this!” I announced to my mother. “This is not right.”
“Harmonia,” she warned. “He is not your responsibility. Don’t do anything rash.”
“Too late,” I answered. And with that, I blurred into immortal speed. I found myself by Cadmus’ side in half a minute. My mother didn’t follow, much to my surprise.
“Harmonia!” Cadmus smiled, looking up from the bench. He started to get up, but I put a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t get up. You act like you’re happy to see me,” I said lightly, although my heart did actually quicken in response to his voice.
“I am,” he answered. Even wounded, he was strikingly handsome. He seemed so tanned and healthy, even with the gash in his leg. I winced.
“How is your leg?” I asked, afraid of the answer. He shrugged.
“It’s getting better. Don’t trouble yourself.”
I sat down next to him, mindful of the heat his body produced. I found that I wanted to melt into it, even though I wasn’t cold. There was just something about him.
We sat in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just…silent.
Finally, I spoke.
“So, you’re indentured to my father?” I asked politely. Cadmus didn’t miss a beat.
“Yes. I killed his dragon. It’s sort of my thing.”
“Your thing?” I smiled. There was a certain edge of arrogance to him, but it was pleasant. I found that I quite liked it.
He nodded. “My thing. I’ll be forever known in the mortal world as the Phoenician who killed Ares’ dragon.”
“But this particular dragon cost you eight years of your life,” I pointed out. Cadmus shrugged, unconcerned.
“What’s eight years? Besides. I’ve spent seven of them living in paradise among the gods. And now I’ve met you. There are fates far worse than that.”