Prophecy of the Most Beautiful (22 page)

Strafford threw his arm out in front of her, like the guardian he was. She grabbed onto it and screamed out like the girl
she
was. Ace just looked horrified.

They all stared.
Gawked,
more like it.

There was a cough. A moan of absolute pain. Her grip tightened on Strafford's arm as she turned her head, but she couldn't look away from the pair of eyes that stared up at her.

That is, the twinkling brown eyes of a young man…gorgeous…and lacking some of his clothes…

*****

XV. Strafford

Strafford had the blade of Aor pressed flat against the stranger's throat. The young man struggled to vocalize his protest, gave a pathetic little push against the blade and managed to scoot not even an inch out of the way of its fatal point.

Strafford already didn't like the look of the fella. He tried to pretend that it wasn't because the stranger only wore a pair of trousers or because Chloe was staring at him like she wanted to eat him up. Unfortunately, he was a handsome fella, even with his face cringed with pain, and Strafford told himself he wasn't the least bit intimidated.

He poked the bugger with his blade.

"Who are you?" He asked, lacing his voice with as much "I'd like to kill you slowly" as he could muster.

"P-Please…don't…." The young fella sputtered.

"Don't wha'?"
Poke
. "Your name, fella."

The guy shook his head at his request, then moaned in pain from the effort.

"Can't you see he's
hurt
?" Chloe snapped as she knelt beside him. "And stop poking him!"

He wanted to tell her that she didn't have the bloody authority to order around a Prince, but held his tongue. It wasn't worth the argument.

"He needs help!" She pleaded.

He hated, hated,
hated
that he didn't have the will to ignore her. "Fine," He snapped, "Ace, do somethin'. I'm already tired of his bloody whinin'
.
"

His little brother was the perfect picture of surprise and Strafford knew why. This wasn't the way he did things. He'd never been a helpful sort of guy––especially to fellas with stupid curly hair like the idiot writhing in pain on the ground in front of him (Swindle was not included in this grouping). Under the blade of Aor, they were questioned first, and then, when he was sure he knew everything he wanted to know, after they had put his suspicions to rest, he offered aid. It was a cold-hearted operation he ran, but it had saved his life a thousand times over.

But now,
she
had happened, and even though he'd fed her a load of crap about his honor and blah blah other stuff being the only reason he'd been talked into being her guardian, it hadn't had any effect on how he felt about
her.
He would still do anything for her.
Anything
.

Gods
, he was getting soft.

"Ace, please," Chloe said, "He's really hurt…" Her words brought Ace back to some kind of reality and he began rummaging through his pack like a madman.

Watching her coddle all over the guy, he summoned away Aor. He had been right on the verge of ending the dude and had looked forward to it. Unfortunately, there was hardly a chance that Chloe would find the same humor in watching the idiot explode into
sun sparks
as he would have and that took all the fun out of it.

Ace's laurel remedy, made from Apollo’s sacred plant, worked fast, and the strange fella was sitting up within minutes. More minutes passed and he got to his bare feet. The fella was tall like him, but not at all built enough to be what Strafford would call an actual threat. He was scrawny in comparison. His eyes were a chocolate brown, hardly the color that would make a wan blush when you looked at her, but they kept twinkling and he could tell Chloe was into them. And then there was the smile that came complete with a set of bloody dimples. Chloe blushed every time he looked her way and Strafford wanted him dead for it.

Giving them the best repugnant smile he had, the guy stretched his limbs and arched his back and turned to show that he was back to his proper health, surprised and happy to be so. Chloe just stood there watching, and blast it to hades that she wasn't doing what he thought had been reserved for only him.

Admiring.

The
bastard
.

One of his Prada soles found the fella's chest and he went flying into the outer wall of a cottage with a teeth-rattling
bang
. Luckily, nobody was home. Faster than a wink, Strafford was on him with a dagger at his throat. He had kept Aor safely recoiled inside of him. It was too risky and he was too annoyed. Just one cut from the sword of Apollo could leave the wanker with permanent sun burn, and he had a few questions to ask him first.

"Really, Strafford! Was kicking him necessary?!"

Ignore her
. He did. He could feel the sun getting higher in the sky. Soon, there would be nothing anyone could say to calm him down if he got worked up. Better he kick him now than later.

"Who the hell are you, fella?" He pursued his earlier line of questioning. "And if you don't answer me this time, nothin' she says will save you."

The fella somehow grimaced and smiled at the same time. "If I knew, I would surely tell you."

Strafford lessened the space between his dagger and the fella's neck.

"Do not hurt me. I mean no harm."

"Answer me then, and make it quick. As you see, I'm an impatient bloke."

The fella grimaced again. "I have no name that I can remember, and that is the truth. I swear it."

"I don't believe you," He snarled.

"You have a dagger at my throat and I can ascertain that you are most capable of slitting it without regret. With those odds, you do not think that if I could give you a name, I would?"

But then, a way more important question plagued Strafford. Keeping his eyes on the fella, he jerked his head upward. "How did you survive tha' fall? Where did you come from?"

The fella replied with some sort of nonsense. "The sky."

He paused. "Repeat tha'."

"The sky. I fell from the sky."

"He's mad," Ace said.

"I believe that would make two of us," The fella said, looking at Strafford and gesturing at the dagger pressed to his throat.

Ace snorted. "I didn' see nothin' if you kill him now, bro." Strafford loved it when he and his little brother were on the same page…

"Don't you dare," snapped Chloe, "We need him."

Now that was something he hadn't been expecting to hear. He felt a twinge of jealousy rise up in him, but he ordered it away. "I don't think so, Red."

"We need him," She repeated, "He's…he's part of the prophecy somehow."

Now he had no choice but to look away from the bloke. "Wha' prophecy, Red?" Chloe looked positively sheepish, and he knew she had been keeping secrets. "Bloody hell…"

"I didn't know what it was," She protested. "There's just so much stuff in my head…I didn't know it was a prophecy. Not until now. He, like, triggered something in me." She gave the wanker a sweet look that made his blood boil.

"Where did this prophecy come from?" He snapped to get her attention back on him.

"It came to me with the Knowledge," She replied, "I heard, like, my own voice tell it to me."

Ace choked out the words before he could. "You have a
future voice
?"

Chloe frowned. "What do you mean,
future voice
?"

Ace blew out a breath. "It's like, the part of you tha' is prophetic is already in the future seein' everythin' tha's gonna happen and reportin' it back to you. It's an unbelievable gift. But tha's jus' it. Our Da is the only one to have ever had a future voice––"

"––which is how he can see into the future of anybody he wants."

"Exactly, but tha's not all tha's crazy. If you have a future voice, it means you can receive
absolute
prophecies, and tha' is
unheard
of."

"What are absolute prophecies?"

It was Strafford's turn now. "They're prophecies triggered by circumstance and destiny, not of inquiry. They jus'…
are
. But you don't understand. You were born with the future voice, but the gift of
absolute
prophesying is granted by the Fates, and they wouldn' jus' give tha' to any ol' gack for no reason."

So you are indeed the one the gods have been waiting for.
He had to admit that deep down he had wanted it all to be a lie. He hadn't wanted to share her with the world, but it was inevitable now and he resented it.

Then he wondered if Apollo knew that Chloe had a future voice. He sure hoped not.

"Wha' does the prophecy say?" He asked her, feeling apprehensive. He hated prophecies of any kind.

She repeated it for them with little difficulty. She had memorized it. She had taken the time to memorize it and hadn't said a frickin’ word about it to him. What other bloody secrets was she keeping from him?

Beautiful, beautiful, this one must be saved

From a love that is dark, and a heart that's enslaved.

There will be no faint of heart on the road to be braved

For the faint of heart will surely see an early grave

Beautiful, Beautiful, whose heart must be freed

From a battle of centuries and copious measures of greed

The most beautiful heart will sacrifice for one to succeed

For undone, it is written, the two will never concede.

Bloody hell.

It was one of the reasons why he despised prophecies. They never made any bloody sense! Rhymes and riddles…who had time for those? Not a real demigod. He didn't need his future told anyway. He was a Prince and one day soon, he'd be one with honor again. That was the only future that mattered.

"I just feel it in my gut, you know?" Chloe said, "This prophecy is for me and I'm supposed to fulfill it somehow. It's that Oracle's Intuition or whatever."

"Wha' good is
he
though?" Ace continued, making an impatient gesture at the wanker Strafford had wanted to kill then forget about, "He doesn' even know his bloody name. He's a complete waster."

"The woman in my dream. I think she's looking for him. I think he's been given to us to protect."

"By whom? Wha' dream? Wha' woman?" Strafford snapped.
All these bloody secrets…

"Don't tell us anything more abou' your dream, Chloe," Ace said, giving him a look, "Your dreams are sacred. Strafford knows tha'."

He scowled at his little brother.

"Wha' else have you been keepin' a secret, Red?" His dagger poked the bloke.

"Damnit, Strafford, get your dagger out of his neck!" She exclaimed. "I need him!"

He could have snapped the pretty fella's neck over those three words. He was the only one she needed. Soon she would know that. "Last time I checked, Red,
I
was the only royal here. Make one more demand…"

"You're impossible," She grumbled.

"And slightly unhinged," the bastard he was trying not to kill had the nerve to mumble.

He slammed the wanker’s head back into the cottage wall. It hit with a satisfying crack and he smirked at the groan of pain it evoked.

"Won't feel so good next time," he looked down and rolled his eyes, "and will you please get him a bloody shirt?" He eyed Ace.

"Why do
I
always have to sacrifice
my
gear?"

Strafford didn't waste time answering such a pointless question. Ace already knew it was simply because he said so.

He had to let the man go so he could dress himself. But his dagger remained ready to slice him into cutlets if he so much as took a wrong breath. He was thinking he still might kill him even if he didn't. Just for kicks and giggles.

The bugger was smiling as the t-shirt slid over his head. "You are quite lovely," he said to Chloe, who blushed and incited in Strafford a slight rage.

"Don't say another word to her," He snapped.

"I could tell right away that you were not like them," The guy continued, just asking to be knocked off, "As he mentioned, he is a Prince of the heavens, so he must be a demigod. The one who healed me is a godling as well." He jerked a nod at Ace. "But you…you are not like them." His smile became sickening and cheesy and the wanker's pupils sparkled again.

His voice dropped down to a dangerous level. "Don't make me regret not killin' you. I said, don't say another word to the Oracle. Understood?"

"My name is Chloe," She quickly stepped between them and said sweet as candy, leaving Strafford close to offing him.
He
was the only one that was going to be getting sweet looks around here…

"So very nice to meet you, beautiful Chloe," The wanker said, bending down to kiss her hand. Strafford could not believe the bollocks on this guy.

"Give us a name to call you, fella," he demanded, "any name. Unless you prefer to be called by my name of choice, 'ball-bag'." Ace snorted a chuckle.

The man looked thoughtful. "Call me…call me…the
Dropper
. I did drop in on you, did I not?"

He couldn't fathom why Chloe laughed. How in the bloody hell had she found that funny?

"Ball-bag fits him better," Ace mumbled. Strafford agreed.

Now what to do with him.

He couldn't deny Chloe. From the moment he'd met her, he'd known he didn't stand a chance in hades of denying her much of anything outside of what he had to to keep her safe. The wanker might have been an immediate pain in the hole but he wasn't a threat. Chloe said she had a prophecy and she needed him for part of it. Or all of it. Who the hell knew. It didn't matter. It was his duty to allow her to keep him around anyway.

Damnit
.

"He's your burden, Red," He lied, knowing good and well the fella had just become his burden too. "If he causes us any trouble…"