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  The old woman smirked. “You could say that.”

  Allegra stiffened mid-swallow, her eyes widening as it hit her what Mara was implying. The wine went down the wrong way, and she choked then coughed hard, the alcohol going up her nose, making her eyes burn.

  “Dad?” Allegra managed to set her glass on the table before falling into a second fit of coughing while Mara merely looked on, smiling. At last, Allegra ceased coughing and patted her chest while clearing her throat. “Aurelia is my grandmother?” she asked.

  But even as the words left her mouth, and even as Mara gave a tiny shake of her head, Allegra understood. Aurelia had entrusted Jocasta’s child to someone close enough to her that she could trust, but someone who had no known connection to a Pythia.

  “I’m assuming my adoption was a setup?” asked Allegra, marveling at Aurelia’s smarts. Allegra reached for her glass and took a sip, hoping the wine would quell some of her nerves.

  “Aurelia did put you up for adoption, and legally it was a secret arrangement, but things were structured in such a way that Aurelia would be allowed to choose the family. Aleks and Diana were approached by an intermediate, undisclosed party, and it was suggested they make the application.”

  “Undisclosed party as in you?” Allegra pointed a finger at Mara, taking care not to tip her wine glass over.

  Mara merely smirked.

  “I’m assuming Aurelia never lost touch with Dad?”

  “No. She was not the kind of mother who could possibly relinquish her connection with her child. But she spent a lifetime mourning his loss. She missed his formative years, his milestones, everything that she wanted to share with him.”

  Allegra blinked, understanding now what Aurelia had meant when she’d said she understood what it meant to be parted from a child. Tears burned Allegra’s eyes as she felt a surge of sorrow for the old Pythia who had ultimately saved Allegra’s life.

  “She did so much for me, and I never got to thank her.”

  “She didn’t need thanks. She knew she was doing the right thing.”

  Allegra swallowed hard. “Did she come to the funeral? I don’t remember seeing her.”

  “We were both there, child. But you wouldn’t have noticed. You were distraught, and it broke Aurelia’s heart to see you in so much pain.”

  Allegra sniffed back the fresh wave of tears that now threatened to spill as she thought of her beloved father. “She would have been nursing her own broken heart. Why would she have felt bad for me?”

  Mara didn’t reply, and a silence followed that was filled with a sense of despair.

  Then Allegra downed the last of her wine and set the glass on the table. “I’d rather not think about him. Or Mother. Every day that goes by is another day that it hurts. And now…now I have to remember that they were not my real parents.” Allegra sighed and then smiled, accepting that deep down her biological connection to Aleks and Diana Damascus was irrelevant because her love for them was pure and true.

  Mara’s voice cut into Allegra’s musings. “You know you can select a handmaiden now if you want.”

  Brow furrowed, Allegra leaned toward Mara. “What do you mean? Are you no longer up to being my handmaiden?”

  The old woman cackled heartily. “The truth is I want to be selfish and say I’m well and truly capable of performing my duties as handmaiden, but the reality is I’ve grown far too old. This body is tired, and there are times when my mind fades. Besides, I haven’t performed the role of handmaiden in over a decade. Once Aurelia moved here to the estate, she stopped her political shenanigans and only took visitors a few times a year. She’d grown weary of the world, of the greed and ambition, and she began to separate herself from that world in which she felt she no longer belonged. She used to say that she was a throwback to a past long dead with no hope of resurrection.”

  Allegra smiled and shook her head. She was about to say that she wished she could have spoken to Aurelia when it hit her whose voice she’d heard while she’d been submerged in the lake.

  She was barely aware of Mara leaving the table and taking the dirty dishes with her, only startling when the old woman called to her from the threshold. “Perhaps you may want to look at Athena as a replacement for me. I think she will do a good job. I would have suggested Celestra but…I think perhaps her connection to Max will not always be nothing to bother you. Besides, it’s about time he got his act together.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Allegra, clamping her hand over her mouth as she yawned widely.

  Mara snickered. “The man has more responsibilities than merely walking around with the title of Immunis, you know,” she said before ambling down the hallway leaving a stunned Allegra staring into the darkness.

  The secret that Max had wanted to tell Allegra all this time. The same secret that she’d told him she’d wait to hear when he was ready to tell it.

  Max was Immunis.

  And the Immunis was the mate to the Pythia.

  Chapter 26

  Max stared at Allegra as she stood motionless inside his tiny office, her cheeks red, her eyes wide. He’d expected her to be angry. Instead, she looked like she was about to burst into tears.

  “Why did you not tell me?” she asked softly, her gaze meeting Max’s for the briefest moment before flitting away and studying the painting of a bland hillside that Mara had dropped off—the old woman’s unspoken suggestion that he may want to spruce the office up a bit.

  Max smiled sadly and waved a hand at Allegra’s face. “This is the reason I didn’t say anything. Because the knowledge would come with a sense of obligation, and then perhaps with a sense of rebellion,” Max let out a weary sigh and sank into his chair. “Trust me, I know how that feels. I engaged in a bit of rebellion myself on discovering what Immunis truly meant.”

  Max smiled at the memory, although even now there was nothing about that day that was amusing. Aurelia had seemed to enjoy imparting the knowledge, and she’d merely watched, her expression inscrutable as Max had refused point blank to agree.

  Now her shoulders shortened and she shifted on her feet, then settled into the single chair in front of Max’s desk, her expression neutral.

  Max decided to keep talking. “After Aurelia told me what I was meant to do—as in be the husband of the Pythia—I got angry. I got furious. I left and told her to go to Hades, and that I was not going to live my life as a pawn in someone else’s game. I asked Les to move in with me after that, and I often think about what that had meant about me and my own selfish needs.”

  “You were angry and hurt. Of course, you would have reacted.”

  “But it was more than that. The knowledge was too much, and instead of trying to deal with my rejection of that burden, I proceeded to hurt the people around me. Human nature is cruel more than we like to admit.” Max glanced out of his patio doors, staring off into the distant past, regret lining his face as he let out a soft sigh. “I used her to act out my frustration and anger against what I perceived as an unwilling burden placed on my shoulders. I gave Les the impression that there was a future for us, but I was lying to her, and more importantly, I was lying to myself.”

  Allegra pursed her lips, her eyes now sad. “You could have just told Aurelia that you’ll stay with her but that you won’t marry anyone under duress,” she countered, her eyes still expressionless. For the first time, Max was unable to identify what she was feeling—which was a really bad sign. “I’m sure she would have listened.”

  Max snorted. “Did you not realize as yet that you are the very last of the Pythias? It’s supposed to be some sort of familial obligation for you to procreate. I didn’t think you’d be in any way ready to jump into bed with your allocated Immunis just for the purposes of conception.”

  Allegra made a rude sound. “So are we supposed to make babies regardless of how we feel about it?”

  “That about sums it up,” said Max, somewhat amused at the expression on Allegra’s face.

  She shook her head. “
That sounds quite mercenary and distasteful. Although for some reason I can imagine that act of intercourse was something the old priests would have wanted proof of.” A mischievous smile turned her lips up at the corners.

  Max chuckled. “Fortunately, there will be no witnesses because there will be no on-demand procreation.”

  Allegra folded her arms and met Max’s gaze. “What if that procreation has already taken place?”

  Eye’s widening, Max leaned forward. “Are you—”

  “No. I’m not pregnant. I just meant…oh, I don’t know what I meant. This is all too much to process.” Allegra got to her feet and paced a short path before Max’s desk. “I suppose this would have been way easier to say no to if we weren’t already…involved.”

  A grin spread on Max’s face. “So we’re involved then?” He quirked an eyebrow.

  Allegra pointed a finger at Max. “You be quiet. I’m trying to think.”

  “Well, I do believe we have better things to think about than forced procreation.”

  “Which is?” Asked Allegra.

  “Confirmation of tectonic activity in all three of our locations.”

  “Guess that’s our cue then,” Allegra said as she turned to head for the door. On the threshold, she paused and looked over her shoulder. “You do know there is another method of conception, should the on-demand intercourse not be to your liking?” she said, failing to hold back a smile.

  “Oh?” Max asked, his eyes dancing with amusement.

  Allegra nodded. “I believe a fair number of humans have been conceived in-vitro. That’s an option…should the need ever arise,” she said then sauntered off into the passage.

  Allegra had to hold back a burst of laughter as Max’s words drifted out into the hall, accompanied by a disgusted growl. “I’ll be damned if any child of mine is ever conceived in a petri dish. Not while the equipment is still working.”

  Chapter 27

  As planned, the three teams headed out in their respective directions with Allegra feeling a pang of homesickness at the thought that she’d been so close to going back home, even if it had meant the reason was the destruction of everything she knew and loved.

  In the end, she’d admitted to herself that the last thing she wanted to witness first hand was the annihilation of her place of birth. If that translated to cowardice, then Allegra would be happy to accept the title.

  Allegra and Athena had taken the Pythia’s plane, while Max arranged a chopper to take him and Flavius—who had remained behind after Marcus had returned to the States—to the island of Hawaii where they would grab a plane out to Pompeii.

  Max had opted to avoid the Nova Roma airport; despite it being the quickest transit, he had insisted the three teams had to move under the radar of Aulus and the president of the NGS. Especially while on NGS soil.

  The evening before, the three groups had spent a subdued few hours where numerous moments of conversation had punctuated stretches of long, uncomfortable silences.

  Even Mara had been unusually quiet as she’d coordinated the delivery of the dinner courses, having prepared a special meal for their last night.

  Allegra considered Mara’s silence and had to assume the old woman had been thinking about their midnight conversation in the kitchen. Allegra hoped so, because she had to wonder if Mara had performed her dramatic revelation deliberately, revealing Max’s truth before he’d been ready to.

  Why she would have felt the need to do so was something Allegra accepted she may not ever know. Mara was a complicated woman, that much Allegra already knew. Perhaps Aurelia’s handmaiden had felt that Max had been taking far too long.

  Which he had.

  And then there was the additional issue of addressing Mara’s suggestion of choosing a new handmaiden in the old woman’s stead. Mara was right; it was time to select someone to take her place, more so while she still remained capable of imparting her enormous stores of knowledge and experience.

  Was Athena the right person for the role? Or was Les the better choice, even if her previous relationship with Max could pose a future complication? Allegra felt no envy or jealousy toward Max’s ex, and didn’t see herself evolving into a petty old woman, but Mara did have a point; there was sufficient potential for things to get problematic, which required Allegra take it seriously.

  In the end, Allegra had come to agree that it was advisable to avoid the potential problem entirely. Sometimes, best intentions were the worst starting points for important decisions.

  The flight had been long, during which time Allegra had read portions of Aurelia’s codex. She’d been afraid to take the ancient books with her on the plane but had decided that if the plane went down, she herself would be dead, so it wouldn’t matter all that much especially considering that Allegra was the last of the Pythias.

  Aurelia’s writings were detailed, and quite beautiful, her descriptions and voice bringing her experiences to life before Allegra’s eyes.

  I write this with a heavy heart.

  We arrived at Mt Fuji after a long and often perilous journey. Amidst the first falls of the winter snow, Mara and I arrived in Jipangu, intent on helping to save the people who live around the Suwanosejima volcano. Although we succeeded in evacuating the towns closest to the volcano, and although the seismologists monitored the fluctuating seismic activity around and within the volcano, all agreeing as to the likelihood that an eruption was imminent, we were all so very wrong.

  And perhaps I would have happily accepted being wrong—even when I am never wrong, such is the accuracy of my visions. Had it not been for Kueishan Dao’s destruction. I was so very very wrong. I cannot understand what went wrong, what I’d interpreted so incorrectly that I’d predicted an eruption in the wrong country.

  I will bear the responsibility for all those lives lost on the island until my dying day.

  I am afraid this failure has made me terribly afraid. I cannot trust my visions. How can I continue to be the Pythia if my visions prove so destructively false?

  Allegra’s eyes widened at the sadness that had flowed off the page. Aurelia had suffered because of this failure. And Allegra was glad for having read it at all. To know that the Oracle of Delphi could also get a prediction wrong, was something that provided Allegra with a great amount of relief.

  On their arrival on the island of Bali, Athena had alighted from the plane first to perform a security sweep while Xales remained at Allegra’s side inside the cabin until they’d received the all-clear. The Balinese authorities had been most accommodating, and Allegra had marveled at the treatment in comparison to her arrival in Qusqu not too long ago. Save for meeting Athena, Allegra would have readily skipped that episode in her experiences as the Pythia.

  Both Athena and Xales had attempted to help Allegra with her luggage. She’d shrugged them off, muttering something about not being incapable, before stalking off toward the waiting hotel transport Jeep. The pair had followed in solemn silence and Allegra had begun to wonder if Xales in human form was a good development or not.

  The air-conditioned interior of their vehicle was a welcome change to the heat of the day, heat that lingered despite the early evening in which they’d arrived.

  Max had booked a suite at the same hotel where Pedro was staying—the Raja of Buleleng Resort and Spa—and was now beginning to wonder if perhaps there really was no danger to the community after all. Could Allegra have been as wrong as Aurelia had with Suwanosejima? But, Allegra had only her visions to go on, and so far she’d trusted in them, and she hadn’t been wrong. Yet.

  Still, she didn’t have any other means to verify the truth of her visions and the teams had to perform their tasks as though the Pythia’s word was really the ultimate truth.

  After checking in, Athena had done a small bit of evening recon and discovered that the string of luxurious seaside hotels were all fully booked, meaning that if the wave did really come, they were looking at thousands of deaths in a matter of seconds.

  Since thei
r arrival in Bali, Allegra had been on edge, constantly fidgeting, her nerves making her feel as though something was very wrong. After a night of little sleep she’d awakened at dawn, and showered and changed, had even submitted to the hotel’s complimentary massage therapist. But in the end, she’d felt the same.

  Incomplete.

  And filled with a strange sense of longing.

  Oddly enough, the intensity of the feeling eased when Allegra had ventured out onto the sand from the patio doors of their suite. Their entire lodgings possessed room-to-sea access and stunning views of the water.

  And as Allegra stood there, hands hanging at her sides, staring out at the water, digging her toes deep into the sand, she felt that pull again, a strange urge to move closer to the water.

  An urge that, no matter how hard she resisted, Allegra seemed unable to suppress.

  Allegra was standing at the edge of the water, where the waves touched the sand. She stared around her, well aware of the reasons why these islands were the holiday destination of the world for centuries. She’d been meaning to visit the place, but her role as the Pythia had destroyed any holiday plans she may have entertained, past, present, or future. For all she knew, fighting the disasters of the future would negate the opportunity for relaxation for the duration of her tenure as the Pythia.

  Now, she stood and stared out at the water, a tension building up deep inside her as she tried to understand when and how the tsunami would hit the resort. Allegra swallowed the ripple of unease as she took another step into the waves. The warm water was sublime, and soon Allegra found herself immersed waist deep within the sea. A glance over her shoulder confirmed that Athena had discovered Allegra’s destination and was walking down the shallow path between the dunes, holding her hand to her eyes as she stared at Allegra who chuckled as she imagined the demigod’s expression of displeasure. She hadn’t meant to run off, well aware of the need for safety. So she stayed where she was, and waited for Athena to come to her.