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defect from when I threw him out of our crib for stealing my rattle. We usually overlook it.”
    Bathymaas laughed then froze … as did Aricles. Eyes wide, she swallowed audibly. “I found that funny.”
    He smiled at her. “You have a most beautiful laugh.”
    And that made her smile.
    Realizing what she’d done, she quickly squelched it. Panic gripped her and that, too, made her panic all the more. As Lilliana had done with Caleb, Aricles had changed her. Greatly. He was so unlike anyone she’d ever known. So sweet and gentle.
    Kind.
    And the more he explained emotions to her, the more she knew she felt them. Especially whenever he was around.
    But she would have to be more careful lest someone else realize that she was no longer without emotion. As the goddess of justice, she should never have experienced them. Ever. How could she be impartial or just with emotions clouding her judgment?
    And yet, she liked what Aricles made her feel.
    All of it.
    Steeling her expressions, she allowed him to lead her to his father and introduce them. A much older and thinner version of the twins, he wasn’t quite as tall, but still she could tell where Aricles and Galen had inherited their good looks.
    He offered her a kind smile. “So you’re the goddess who stole my boys from me. I can see now why they didn’t hesitate to follow you.” He gave her a quick wink. “Were I a hundred years younger, I’d have gladly followed you, too.”
    She inclined her head to him. “Thank you, Master Praxis.”
    â€œYou made it!”
    She turned at the happy male voice to see a shorter, younger version of Aricles and Galen. All the men in their family seemed to be virtual copies of each other. Same rabidly blue eyes and reddish-brown hair …
    Same handsome smiles.
    Aricles hugged his younger brother then introduced them.
    Perseus bowed proudly. “My wife and I are honored by your attendance, goddess. Thank you for allowing my brothers to come. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”
    She glanced to Aricles, who was more like a father to Perseus than Praxis was. “I don’t think I could have kept them away … even with my powers. They are terribly devoted to you and your father.”
    Blushing, Perseus ran back to his petite blond bride, who was as obviously in love with him as he was with her. Bathymaas watched as they embraced and he kissed her with the same amount of passion she’d felt when she kissed Aricles.
    Suddenly breathless, she glanced at Ari and felt the peculiar wave of heat surge through her body that always hit her whenever she looked his way. In her mind, she imagined being the bride and Aricles running up to her with the same exuberance.
    â€œAre you all right, my goddess?”
    The concern in his voice made her weak in the knees. “I’m fine, Ari.”
    He handed her a kylix of watered-down wine.
    While Aricles spoke to his father, she wandered about the room, listening to people and watching how they acted and interacted. People had always fascinated her. They were so incongruous and unpredictable.
    So very odd.
    The music was lovely, and those who danced did so with carefree, happy abandon. It was only then that she realized Aricles never partook of such frivolous behavior. Unlike Galen, who hoisted a woman over his shoulder and twirled about with her while drinking from a silver kylix, Aricles was forever rigid and dignified. Controlled.
    Circumspect.
    He’d told her that it stemmed from the year his mother had died, when he was eight. Perseus had been just a toddler, and their father had been so distraught that he’d been unable to function without his wife. For two months straight, his father had lain in bed with drink, rising only to attend the most basic of bodily functions. All the upkeep for their farm, servants, and family had fallen to Ari’s young shoulders. His father had given him no