The Immortal Throne

by Bree Despain

My instincts kick in and I thrash against the hands that hold me.

  “Haden, stop!” the voice booms. It’s familiar, but I can’t place it.

  “Are you crazy, standing in the middle of the road? I almost killed you. You could have died.” This second voice is different. Familiar. Frantic. Female.

  Not Daphne.

  “You should have let me,” I growl and try to take a swing at my captor. “I should be dead.”

  Why am I not dead?

  “He is crazy,” the female says.

  “It’s the black arrow’s poison,” a third, older, male voice says. “It’s taking him more quickly than I expected.”

  “What can we do?” she asks.

  “Hold him down.”

  I feel another, smaller pair of hands grab me. I try to thrash harder as two of them hold me down against the pavement, but I am strangely weak. Whoever these people are, they can’t be my friends.

  “It’ll be over in a minute,” the third person says to me, and then a sharp jab hits the inside of my right elbow. A second later, the oddest sensation washes through me, as if minuscule bubbles, like in the soda Daphne once made me try, were flitting through my arm.

  My vision clears and I see a small green arrow, about the size of a dart, protruding from my arm. “That tickles,” I say. The bubbles dance through my body, and I feel as though I am floating a few inches off the ground. Warmth radiates beneath my skin.

  Three familiar faces—Lexie, Jonathan, and Ethan—stare down at me, all with varying expressions of alarm. They look so funny from this angle.

  “Thank Prada, you’re back!” Lexie says.

  “Prada?” I ask groggily, feeling warm and floaty all over. “Who’s Prada?”

  “Did you come back alone?” Jonathan asks.

  I shake my head, liking the way it wobbles as I roll it back and forth. “My father and brother are in the grove. Along with Terresa. I tied them up with my toga.” I angle my head so I can peer at my prostrate body and realize I’ve been running around town in my underclothes. I’d landed back in the mortal world in a shredded toga and a small pair of undershorts. Before leaving the grove, I sacrificed the toga to restrain my foes—not that it would make much difference once they awoke from their black sleep and incinerated their fabric bonds, I realize now.

  This folly strikes me as particularly amusing.

  I hear a car door open and slam. Then a fourth face is looking down at me. Joe.

  “Bloody hell. What happened? Where is she?” Joe says, asking the question I’ve been dreading since I was thrown back through the gate. “Where’s my daughter?”

  “Daphne? She traded herself to save me,” I say, my voice sounding far too high-pitched. “She’s trapped in the Underrealm.”

  I start to shake uncontrollably as the hilarity of the whole situation grips me. I roll on my side and laugh. No, not laugh. Giggle.

  “Has he completely lost it?” Ethan asks.

  Why is Ethan even here? I think back to when I was struck by what I had assumed was the car, and realize why the blow had felt like thunder. It was because it was thunder that had sent me flying. Not the car. Ethan must have used a thunderclap to blast me out of the way. And the warm embrace I’d felt must have been him swooping in from above—Skylords can walk on clouds, after all—to catch me before I hit the pavement. I can’t help it. I shake with laughter at the idea that a Skylord prince saved my life.

  I’m laughing so hard my abdominals hurt. However, it’s a more pleasant pain than the one that had taken me over before I walked out in front of Lexie’s car.

  Lexie nudges me with her foot. “What did you do to him?” she asks Jonathan.

  “I stuck him with a giddiness dart,” Jonathan says, squinting down at me.

  “You’re not Jonathan!” I say, pointing up at him. The black veins in my hand have faded to a bluish gray. “You’re Cupid!”

  “Yes, that I am,” Jonathan says. “Though I prefer to be called Eros.”

  I guffaw. “I’m being rescued by Cupid!”

  “How long will he be like this?” Ethan asks. “I think I preferred the Haden that threw himself in front of oncoming traffic.”

  Jonathan gives him a cross, fatherly look.

  “You’re the son of Cupid!” I shift my pointing finger toward Ethan. “Son of Cupid,” I say in an addled-sounding voice, thinking it is the funniest notion I’ve ever heard.

  “It’s only a temporary salve,” Jonathan says. “The dart’s spell will wear off soon, so we’d better get him somewhere he can’t hurt himself before it does.”

  Ethan scowls but then leans down and scoops me up in his arms. He lifts me, cradled in his arms as if I were a giant baby—giant baby!—and carries me toward Lexie’s green BMW.

  “Your nose looks so big from this close up,” I exclaim, bopping him on the nose with my finger.

  “Do that again,” Ethan growls, “and I will incinerate your entire hand.”

  I snatch my finger back and pull a face that mimics his scowl in an exaggerated way. “I will incinerate your entire hand.”

  “Are you sure that was a giddiness dart and not a full-on lunatic spell?” Ethan asks Jonathan as he restrains me—rather forcibly—with a seatbelt.

  Jonathan nods. “It’s the best I could do in a pinch. My full-strength arrows are gone. All I have left are emotion darts . . .”

  Ethan gives Jonathan a weighty look, as if the fact that Cupid is almost out of sharp, pointy projectiles is devastating news. I laugh even harder.

  “There’s no time to worry about that now,” Jonathan says.

  Ethan clasps his father’s shoulder. “Take the boy to Joe’s house. I’ll see to the grove.”

  Jonathan and Joe get in the car. Lexie starts the engine and as the car pulls away, I watch with giddy fascination as Ethan uses a blast of lightning to launch himself into the sky. “Wow,” I say, clapping my hands. “Do you think he could teach me how to cloud-walk?”

  Joe glares from the seat next to mine.

  “What?” I ask, shrugging my shoulders exaggeratedly. “It would almost be like flying.”

  Joe drops his head. He stares at his folded hands in his lap. It almost looks like he’s praying. “Daphne,” he whispers. “I just hope you’re okay.”

  chapter five

  daphne

  I sit on the bed in my prison of a bedroom and feel anxiety flood over me. I need to plan. I need to figure out exactly how I am going to get away from Garrick and the Court once we are far enough away from the palace that my vocal powers will (hopefully) return. I need to figure out where I can hide. How I’m going to find the Key. How I can survive in this strange world on my own . . .

  My breaths start coming too fast. I’m afraid I’m going to hyperventilate. Whenever I have a big audition or something really stressful on the horizon, I allow myself exactly three minutes to freak out before getting to work. It’s an actor’s trick that Abbie taught me. But even that amount of time feels like a luxury now. I close my eyes, deciding to give myself one minute, while willing my breaths to become deep and slow. I can’t help recounting the crazy series of events that led me to this place.

  Only six months ago, I was a small-town girl with two main goals in life: to get my driver’s license and to land a music scholarship to a college so I could get away from Ellis Fields. I’d jumped at the chance to move to Olympus Hills with my then-estranged father, so I could take advantage of the school’s prestigious music program. Little did I know at the time, Joe was being forced to put me in position to be taken to the Underrealm.

  That betrayal still hurts, but I know Joe is a different man now than the one who made a deal, before I existed, to sell my soul in exchange for his fame and fortune.

  I stick my hand in my pocket and brush my fingers over the sobriety coin Joe had given me as proof that he was changing for me. He’d even volunteered to come with me to the Underrealm to try to stop the Keres . . .

  Only he hadn’t come. Tobin had sa
id it was because he thought Joe was passed out drunk, but I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that after all we’ve been through, Joe would leave me hanging when I needed him the most.

  I gulp back a cry that aches in my throat. Instead I think of Haden. He’d been so clumsy in his efforts to get my attention when he first arrived in Olympus Hills, I’d found it almost endearing, and soon I’d started to fall for him.

  I’d pulled away and fought my destiny when I learned the truth about Haden—that he was an Underrealm champion tasked with bringing me back to his world. But what had really scared me was when I learned the truth about myself. That I was the fated Cypher, the only one who could find the long-lost Key of Hades, and that both the Skylords and the Underlords wanted me and the Key for their own agendas. The Underlords’ plan involved possibly sacrificing me to regain their immortality, and releasing the Keres from the Pits to use as foot soldiers in a war against the Skylords—a plan that would surely lead to the destruction of my world and Haden’s.

  Ultimately, when Haden and I realized that with my vocal abilities and his lightning power, we could destroy the nearly invincible Keres and stop the Court’s foolish plans, I embraced the idea that Haden and I, together, could save both of our realms without letting the Key fall into anyone else’s hands.

  And eventually—despite my better judgment—I also embraced the realization that I am in love with Haden.

  I found the Key, and then when Haden was kidnapped and dragged into the underworld by his brother, I decided to use it to go after him. Tobin and Garrick went with me, but I was separated from both when the boat we were sailing to the palace crashed. I lost the Key, almost died, and found myself in Elysium. A guide—Haden’s deceased mother, actually—had taken me to the Adamantine Gate, the back door to the Underrealm’s royal grounds.

  At one point I found myself in the Pits, where I discovered that there were thousands of Keres—not the couple dozen Garrick had reported. Had that lie been part of some nefarious plan as well? Had I played right into Garrick’s hand when I let him escort me into the throne room of the palace? Had he known all along that being the one to deliver me to the Court would secure his place as the rightful heir to the crown? Had he orchestrated the situation in which I would ask him to come with me to the Underrealm in the first place? Or had he merely taken advantage of the situation at hand?

  Whatever the case may be, Garrick is the king now. He was the only one I could strike a deal with to try to save Haden’s life. I promised to bind myself to him by eating a ceremonial pomegranate seed and then pledged to help him find the Key of Hades that I claimed I had hidden.

  And that is exactly how I found myself here. But the time for dwelling on the past is over. I take one last deep breath.

  When I open my eyes, I find the serving boy standing in front of me with his silver tray. My dinner looks a little worse for wear, but my stomach clenches at the smell. I am not sure when I last ate—other than that one pomegranate seed that sealed my fate. Garrick was right: I’ve been afraid that eating more will only strengthen the binding spell. But I can’t help it anymore. I’m too hungry. I take the tray and set it beside me. The meat is stringy and gamey and I wonder if it came from some sort of reptilian beast, and the juice is so thick it reminds me of blood, but considering how long it has been since I've eaten, it might as well be a bacon cheeseburger and a milkshake.

  I catch the boy staring at me as I eat. I’m sure I don’t look very queenly at the moment—or perhaps he’s been hoping I’d give him my food again.

  I tear the piece of dark brown, flat bread in half and use it to scoop up what remains of the meat. “Here,” I say, handing it to him.

  I think he thanks me as he shoves it into his mouth. After a minute of chewing, he swallows and says, “You’re going to run away tomorrow, aren’t you?”

  I am so surprised that he has actually spoken to me that I nod in response. I immediately hope that wasn’t a mistake.

  “Good,” the boy says, eyeing the apple. “I like you. I do not want you to die like the others. All the women die, did you know that? Mortals cannot survive without the sun.”

  I nod, indicating that I did know that. Haden had said that his mother lasted the longest—seven years—but that others died much more quickly. Being from southern Utah and more recently from California, I am used to being bathed in sunlight. I can already feel the lack of it weighing on me. Like it’s getting harder and harder to find the motivation to move. How long can I survive here?

  I hand the boy the apple. “I like you too, kid.”

  “Good.” He smiles and holds the fruit like it’s more precious than my ruby necklace. “You should know there’s a network of caves in some cliffs beyond the pomegranate orchards. It stretches out for miles. Someone could hide in there for a long time.”

  “Thank you,” I say, returning his smile. This bit of information may make all the difference. “You know, you speak pretty good English. Do the Lessers get language lessons like the Lords?”

  The boy gives me a curious look, his mouth stuffed with apple. “I’m not speaking English,” he says. “You’re speaking Greek.”

  I scoff at him, thinking he’s pulling my leg. “Whatever, kid.”

  “No really. Your Greek is perfect. Lessers don’t get lessons in anything.”

  Me speaking Greek makes absolutely no sense. The only language I’ve ever studied is Spanish, and I can barely do more than ask for directions to the library. “Then how does Garrick know English so well? I guess he could have just picked it up quickly.” The people of the Underrealm were naturally gifted mimics. Perhaps it had only taken him a few days to learn English.

  “Garrick has always been especially skilled with languages. Even without lessons. I’ve heard other Lessers say that he even knows how to talk to—” The boy jumps up as the door opens. A woman—the first one I’ve seen since arriving here—enters the room, holding a bundle of what I presume are my new clothes. Her skin is so gray and her body is so gaunt, it takes me a moment to realize the woman is probably only a few years older than I am. She wears a fine-looking dress of baby blue chiffon, but it’s torn and dirty, as if she’s been wearing it for days inside a dank place. I’m not sure what to make of this because Haden once told me that the women who are brought to the Underrealm—Boons, as they’re called—live a life of luxury in the Court’s harem. The boy quickly hands me the rest of the apple and backs away from me. “I should go, my lady,” he whispers. “Good luck tomorrow.”

  He scurries from the room with my now-empty dinner tray. The woman leaves her bundle for me and starts to follow the boy out. She stumbles and knocks her frail body against the door frame. A guard shouts at her and roughly shoves her into the corridor. “Move it, Queen Moira. You’re supposed to serve Lord Lex’s dinner next.”

  The guards break into harsh laughter that is barely muffled when they slam my door shut. So this is what has become of the former king’s wife? The Court has turned her into a servant? Or is this a new mandate of King Garrick—that all the women should be treated as slaves?

  I wonder if—when—I escape, if it would be possible to take the other captive women with me. Perhaps even the boy?

  No, not now. I will have to save myself before I can try to save anyone else.

  I eat the last of my flatbread and then sift through the clothing. It’s not exactly the hiking gear I was hoping for. Instead, I find a white dress. It’s similar in design to the Grecian dress Dax made me for the play, with a deep V neckline, thick shoulder straps, and an empire waistline, but the fabric is so luxurious and silky that the only word I can think to describe it is buttery. The skirt is draped perfectly, and in the back the fabric is longer, creating a train that in different circumstances I might find romantic instead of inconvenient. The shoulder straps and the empire waistline are beaded with tiny crystals—or perhaps actual diamonds—with threads of what I assume are pure gold. I remember now that Hades had supposedly also been t
he god of riches as well as the underworld. A dainty crown of gold laurel leaves encrusted with diamonds sits upon a bundle of golden fabric. It’s an ensemble fit for a queen. Or a bride, I think with a shudder. Is that what Garrick expects of me?

  Next I find a pair of gold-leafed leather sandals. They’re a far cry from the sturdy boots I would want, but still better than my torn-up ballet flats. The golden bundle of fabric turns out to be a thick velvet cloak with a billowing hood. This item I am most grateful for because I imagine without sunlight, it gets cold out there, especially in caves. Assuming I even make it that far . . .

  I shake off the negative thought. Now is the time to plan. Tomorrow, I will escape Garrick and the Court.

  After that, I will find a way back to my world. I have to, not only for my sake, but for Haden. I will get there in time—to give him true love’s kiss in order to stop the spread of the poison and restore him to the person I know him to be. To tell him I love him when he can actually comprehend my words.

  Nothing can stop me.

  chapter six

  tobin

  “Hello, is anybody here?” I call into the house. My voice echoes through the empty rooms. Boxes sit on the porch and a moving truck idles in the driveway, but no one is here.

  This is wrong, I think. I know this memory and it is all wrong.

  This memory is from my first week in Olympus Hills, but nothing is as I remember it. We’ve just moved here from our little three-bedroom house a few towns over. I still can’t get over how huge our new home is—like it should be a hotel bustling with people, not just the five of us. Maybe that’s why it feels so empty . . .

  No, they should be here. My family should be here.

  I remember running all the way home from school. I’m excited because I finally made a new friend. A girl named Alexis. She likes Star Wars and singing and even shared her Mountain Dew Code Red with me at lunch. But that’s not the only reason I’m excited. I want to tell the others that I got a part in my middle school’s play. I get to be John in Peter Pan. I didn’t think they were going to let me audition because I’m new, but they did, and I landed exactly the part I wanted.