Isadora wasn’t so sure. Lord Lucian had stayed on with the Council of Elders—the governing body that advised the monarchy—as long as he could, but his health was rapidly deteriorating after five hundred years, and the Council was finally forced to find a replacement for his seat. Tradition held that the most senior male member of each founding family be instilled, but the Council clearly wasn’t thrilled with their two choices: Orpheus, the troublemaking eldest nephew of Lord Lucian, or his younger Argonaut brother, Gryphon. While an Argonaut had never sat on the Council, Gryphon had been considered the lesser of two evils until his captivity in the Underworld forever changed him. The Council was now hesitant to seat Gryphon, not just because they were unsure of his mental stability these days, but because they suspected his governing decisions would be influenced by his relationship with his mate, Maelea, the daughter of Zeus and Persephone.
That left Orpheus, the black sheep of the family, half-witch, half-Argolean, and a major thorn in the Council’s side. Orpheus never did anything anyone expected, Isadora included. The Council’s choice was either to seat him, or overhaul the entire governing process, which they were hesitant to do because tradition—to them—was the most sacred of rituals. But Isadora was still nervous about the entire situation. Yes, Orpheus had come through for her several times, and yes, he was now serving with the Argonauts, but he was still unpredictable. He didn’t care what anyone thought, he often went against protocol, and he loved to antagonize the Council, something she feared was going to come back and bite her in the ass.
“Just remember you’re not simply representing your family,” she said to him as they rounded the banister at the second landing. “You’re representing the Argonauts as well. Whether the Council will admit it or not, seating an Argonaut is a historic event.”
He tugged on her sleeve, drawing her to a stop. “Hold on. You don’t think I can handle this, do you, Isa?”
Isadora looked up at his irritated gray eyes. Not Your Highness, not My Queen, simply Isa. He’d called her that for years, and while she didn’t have a problem with it in private, in public it just went one step further in showing his lack of respect for their way of life. “I think your disdain for the Council comes through loud and clear.”
“They deserve nothing but disdain. And you’re the first who should recognize that. They tried to execute your mate, or have you forgotten?”
Nausea rolled through her belly when she remembered Demetrius strung up in the council chamber, but she pushed it aside. “No, I haven’t forgotten, nor will I ever. But tradition has fueled this country for thousands of years. It can’t be changed on a dime. What I’m trying to do is instill change within the parameters our people are used to. If I move too quickly, the Council will rally the people and rise up against me. We’re a hairbreadth away from a coup, Orpheus, especially with the Misos here. What I need you to do is pick your battles and not antagonize the lords just for the fun of it.”
“No one wants the Misos taken care of more than me.”
Isadora knew that too. After Orpheus’s brother, Gryphon, had returned from the Underworld, the Misos—or half-breeds, as the Council liked to call them, half-Argoleans, half-humans—took him in when no one else would, even his own people. Though Orpheus himself wasn’t a half-breed, he felt a kinship with the people who’d helped his brother. And he'd been instrumental in assisting in their evacuation to Argolea after the Misos colony in the human realm had been attacked by Hades and his son, Zagreus. He hated the fact the Council was targeting the Misos as much as Isadora did.
“I may prove you wrong, you know,” he said, resuming his steps. “I have been known to do that a time or two.”
He had, he was right, and Isadora knew she was worrying about something that might never happen, but then that was her job as queen. To worry about everyone—him, the Council, the Argonauts, Nick…
A space inside her chest squeezed tight when she thought of Nick, and a profound sense of loss swept through her. He’d sacrificed himself to save her life when Hades had come to claim her soul, and she’d never had a chance to thank him, never had a chance to tell him she was sorry for the way they’d argued just before Hades’s arrival. She loved Demetrius, had no desire to be with anyone else, but she understood Nick’s pull to her. He’d been cursed by the gods more than any other, not simply because he’d been given a soul mate he couldn’t have, but because he’d been given the same one as his brother. And she’d chosen Demetrius.
She needed to find him. Needed to set at least some part of this nightmare right by rescuing him from Hades and Zagreus. It didn’t matter that he was Krónos’s son. All that mattered was finding him.
Voices sounded from the office ahead, and, straightening her spine, Isadora followed Orpheus toward the open door. She’d told Theron, the leader of the Argonauts, she would stop by after the Council proceedings to let him know how it had gone, but more than anything, she was anxious to hear if he had any news on Nick.
Titus was sitting behind Theron’s desk when she entered, his dark, wavy hair tied at his nape, his gloved hands paging through virtual screens. Theron stood behind him, his thick arms crossed over his chest, his expression grim as he studied whatever Titus was pointing out.
“It’s all doom and gloom around here,” Orpheus muttered as he stepped into the room. “Feels like the Council chambers.”
Both Argonauts looked their direction, and Theron’s dark brows lifted. “How did it go?”