by Wagner, Raye
Just the words made Hope cringe. What did it say that Hope hadn’t even considered that others would sacrifice for her? Of course that made sense. Was it a dream, or had she seen Athan here? Her thoughts raced and jumped, and Hope shook her head to clear it. “Are you talking about Athan?”
Atropos jumped and looked at the door. She brought her finger to her lips and then indicated that Hope lie back down.
The lock on the door clicked, and Atropos disappeared.
Hope lay down but tried to keep her eyes barely open. Just enough to see . . .
Persephone entered with another covered tray. She stopped as soon as she’d crossed the threshold of the room, and her eyes narrowed. She took a deep breath and came to the bedside. “You don’t have to tell me who was here, but don’t pretend you’re still asleep. It insults us both.”
Hope considered her words, and it seemed ridiculous to pretend anyway, so she sat up. “Sorry.”
Persephone waved away Hope’s apology. “Don’t. You have several gods making requests. You’re in a rare position of power.”
“I don’t feel that powerful,” Hope muttered. Her muscles protested every movement, as if trying to remember how to function properly, and she knew she’d lost a chunk of her memory. “But I think I’m ready to know what happened.”
Persephone raised her brows. “I think you’d better eat first. You need to talk with Lord Hades before you can bargain with anyone else.”
Hope oddly wasn’t hungry. Shouldn’t her appetite be back by now? She ate one cracker and washed it down with the bottle of water as she mulled over the information she had. Hades wanted her to go to Olympus, face Hera, tell her she was a hypocrite, and get the Olympians to unbind the gods of the Underworld. If she were to believe Atropos, she had to go to Olympus anyway. Gods, she did not want to screw this up. She thought of the goddess of Fate’s words.
Hope scooted back to the edge of the bed, her sheet-like toga sliding up to her knees. She pulled down on the fabric so it wouldn’t ride any higher. “Can I brush my teeth first?”
Persephone smiled and pointed to the bathroom. “Be my guest.”
The chiton was a soft gray, and for some reason the color made Hope uneasy. Regardless, she put it on and made her way out. She was stronger today, if only a little bit so. Still, she wouldn’t be able to fight her way out of any situation physically, and she hoped her words would be enough.
“You’re better,” Persephone seconded. “In another few weeks, you’ll be healed and ready to go.”
Hope opened her mouth to protest. She couldn’t wait a few more weeks. Urgency to get out of the Underworld pulsed with every heartbeat. But it made no sense to argue either; at this point, she couldn’t even stand on her own for more than a few minutes. How could she be so tired when she was sleeping so much?
“Patience. You’ll get there.”
Persephone offered her arm, and Hope accepted it. The walk to the throne room was long.
The hallways were void of parishioners or Skia today, and the quiet made Hope’s skin crawl. As if the very structure were awaiting her decision before life moved on.
“Is Athan here?”
The corners of Persephone’s eyes tightened. “Why do you ask?”
It was hard to determine what was memory and what was dream, but she was pretty sure that was real. And it seemed like it had happened yesterday. Hope rubbed her forehead. “Didn’t he and Xan come into my room? Didn’t Athan kiss me?”
Persephone said nothing, and Hope was too tired to really push it. Her head ached, and she concentrated on the roiling of her stomach.
The throne room, like the hallways, was devoid of parishioners, but two Skia stood at the door with weapons in hand. Hope wasn’t sure, but they looked familiar.
“Ah!” Hades smiled at her and descended his throne. “Have you had a good rest? Are you ready to discuss our agreement?”
It was déjà vu. The sense that she’d just been in the room compounded the fogginess in her brain.
“You want me to go to Olympus and confront Hera?”
Hades smirked while nodding.
“I can’t guarantee that anything will change.” There was no way she was going to have what she asked for contingent on his desired outcome.
A dark chuckle escaped before he answered. “Oh, things will definitely change, young one.”
She would roll her eyes if it didn’t take so much energy. “I’ll do it if . . .”
There were certain words she should use. Didn’t the cutting goddess say something about specific words? Gods, she was so tired.
Hades raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”
“If everyone that gave their life for me is returned to the mortal realm and allowed to live a long, normal life. Without any influence from your realm until they die a natural death.” Was she forgetting anything?
“Not everyone,” Hades said, holding up his hand. “I will not override the effect on anyone the other gods have taken.”
“Fine.” She had no idea what he was referring to, but she trusted in the words of Atropos.
“If this is about your guardian, why not just ask for her back?” The god of the Underworld cocked his head to the side and studied her.
But Hope refused to answer and just stared at Hades, waiting.
“Done.”
The tightness in her chest loosened a little. “Swear on the Styx.”
A slow smile spread across his face.
It resembled the leer the Skia wore. Suddenly, she wondered if that was where it came from. Her heart skipped a beat.
“I swear on the Styx,” he sneered.
Hope shook her head. “I want to hear you say the words exactly like I did.”
Hades repeated the words she’d spoken, along with his oath to abide by his word. He then asked that Hope do the same.
The words rolled off her tongue. She would have to fulfill her oath or she would spend eternity burning in the hatred of the River Styx. But confronting Hera was the least of her worries. Hope swayed on her feet. “Are we done? May I return to my bed?”
Hades waved her off. “Yes, yes. You need your beauty sleep before we send you to Olympus.”
Hope was too tired to correct him. She had no intention of going straight to Olympus. She needed to see Priska settled and check in with her friends. She missed Haley, Xan, Dahlia, and especially Athan. She missed Mr. Stanley, and wondered if everyone was okay now that Apollo’s sons were ash.
Persephone led her to the door. “Your room is the fifth door on the left. Do you think you can make it?”
Hope looked down the hall. It wasn’t that far. She nodded and stepped into the hallway. Only seconds later she was at the room. It was right there. Had they come some circuitous route on the way to the throne room? Was she losing her mind?
Hope opened the door and went straight to the bed. She lay down but hadn’t even shut her eyes when there was a knock at the door. “Come in.”
Persephone entered. Her hair was no longer up, and it cascaded down her back in honeyed waves. Her blue eyes were rimmed in red.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Here is a sleep aid for you.”
She held out a vial of silver liquid.
Hope shook her head. She was so tired she could sleep for a week. “I don’t want to take anything that will bind me here.”
Persephone offered a small smile. “It will not bind you here. It is a gift, from me. It is manufactured in the mortal realm, so it’s safe.”
“I appreciate your kindness, but I don’t want to take anything. If you let me sleep until I wake up, just one good sleep, then I’ll leave.”
The goddess of the Underworld crossed the room and sat on the bed. She leaned over Hope, and Hope scooted up in bed so she was sitting against the headboard.
“Either you can drink it . . . willingly, or I can call in help. It is a restorative tonic”— she held up her hand—“not that kind of restoration. It is for the body, not the mind. Hades
would have you healthy before you leave us.”
Hope ground her teeth. “I have no choice?”
Persephone shook her head. “None. But I swear on the Styx it will not harm you, nor will it bind you here.”
The liquid was cool and sweet, like drinking the juice of a peach, and Hope had a fleeting thought of a peach orchard before darkness blanketed her.
“But it is Thanatos’s fault!” Xan protested, the vein in his neck pulsing. He faced the lord of the Underworld and with deadly calm followed up with, “That is not right.”
“I agree with you, Son of Ares.”
Hades’s acknowledgement did nothing to calm Athan. The god had not said he would release her and, in fact, had prefaced his declaration with a statement about rules.
Rules be damned!
“What will it take?” Athan gritted his teeth, waiting to hear how, and even if, the god of the Underworld would negotiate.
“What do you mean?”
“What will it take for you to let her go?”
“Before you demand it, whatever the cost, listen to me. If she stays here, she will be protected from the gods of Olympus. She will remain here, safely, forever.”
It was the forever part that made Athan sick to his stomach. He was tired of having the gods meddle. Tired of feeling impotent to change things.
“If she stays, she will not have the one thing she wants most of all,” Xan challenged.
“Oh? You know her well enough to speak for her?” Hades raised his brow and circled the demigod. “What is it she wants most of all?”
“Her freedom.”
Xan’s face looked as weary as Athan felt.
“Why won’t you fix this? You’re a god. The ruler of the Underworld. I refuse to believe you can’t.” Athan glared at him. “You won’t .”
“If I make this exception, it will not only affect you. And you.” Hades pointed at Athan then Xan. “And her. It will be an exception that my entire realm will know about. If you want me to do this, you must come up with a way to make it not only compassionate but just. After that fiasco with Orpheus and Eurydice, it was centuries before we had order from the chaos. I will not make that same error again.”
Error. Of compassion. But even as Athan wanted to complain about the words, there was sense in them. Reason even. Which was all the more frustrating.
“The way I see it, Lord Hades,” Xan began, his jaw set in determination, “you owe us for our service to you. Thanatos was getting ready to lead a rebellion, and we helped stop it.”
Hades chuckled. “Do you think this is the first, or will even be the last, time my reign of the Underworld is threatened? Unlike Olympus, ruling here is a responsibility. I would think you both could understand it.”
Damn if that didn’t make complete sense. Athan struggled to come up with a plan. Something that would get Hope out of the Underworld, something that would give her the opportunity to break the curse.
“But you did do me a favor, Son of Ares,” Hades conceded.
Both of the demigods stared at him in anticipation.
“I will reward you with a favor.” When Athan’s face lit up, Hades added, “A reasonable favor, just for you.”
“Meaning not Hope,” Xan grumbled.
“Let’s go to her. Now.” Hades led them from the room.
Athan couldn’t help but feel like he was getting played. It was like being caught in the middle of a game and not knowing any of the rules, let alone who all the key players were. But it didn’t matter. He wanted this more than anything, and he muttered to himself, “Yes, let’s go see her.”
Xan shot Athan a look that spoke volumes of distrust. At least they were on the same page as far as that was concerned.
Xan brushed by him and whispered, “He wants something.”
It was very likely the case. But what?
The room was dark and smelled of lavender and mint. A single candle at the bedside cast a warm glow over Hope’s still frame. Her chest rose and fell in a rhythm of slumber.
Next to the bed sat Persephone. Her gaze traveled over each of them before settling on her husband.
“She will wake up?” Athan whispered.
Hades nodded. “This is restorative sleep. A gift from my wife.” He pointed at Persephone. “You can both be given a tonic that will aid in your recovery if you’d like. As a gift, it will not bind you here.”
Xan snorted, but Athan didn’t even dignify it with a response. “Do we know how much of the Lethe she drank?”
“No.”
She could have forgotten her entire life if she drank enough. There were stories of this, of those who died with memories so painful they chose to drink from the Lethe.
“How much will she remember? Will she know who we are? Will she remember how to break the curse?”
“You wish to know how much she’ll remember?” Hades went to the bedside. His hand brushed over Hope’s eyes and rested on her temple. He looked up at Athan with an unspoken apology. “She will not remember anything of her time here.”
“Nothing?” She’d been here for weeks. “And this? Will you do anything to fix this?”
Hades’s eyes narrowed.
Persephone stood and took his hand.
“Is there anything that can be done?” Xan’s weary voice cut through the mounting tension.
Hades’s gaze bounced between the three of them. His lips thinned, and then he nodded. “Do either of you know of any of her memories here? I can give her a tonic that will help recall her memories, but you will have to be able to tell her of her time, something true, and her . . . soul will push the memory back into her consciousness. It is all I have to offer.”
Xan nodded. “How long will we have to restore her memory?”
“A few minutes, ten at the most. The more of the solution I give, the more malleable her memory will be.”
“You mean—?”
“You would be able to plant false memories, and she would never know the difference.”
Athan stared at the ground. The rug was actually some type of animal hide, the short hair of the beast a soft barrier to the hard rock beneath. He dragged his foot through the fur. What was the sense in recovering her memory if she couldn’t leave the Underworld? And if he could get her out, would she still be able to break the curse with what little information they could give her? If she remembered him kissing Isabel, could he explain? Would Hope ever forgive him? Was there any way to make it right?
“If . . . If I trade my immortal life for hers”—Athan stumbled through the words but pushed ahead before his courage failed him—“would that meet the demands of your justice? Would you let her go?”
The air seemed to still. Xan looked like he was going to be sick.
Hades’s gaze pierced Athan, but he refused to look away from the god. If this was what it took, he would do it.
“Yes,” Hades finally answered. “That would be a fair exchange.” He glanced at his wife and then held his arms out wide. “You see I am not without compassion.”
Athan nodded. It was not what he wanted, but then . . . It did give Hope the opportunity she needed. “You’ll watch after her, Xan?”
“Aye,” Xan whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Are ye sure?”
No. Not at all. But he’d meant what he said to his father. He squared his shoulders. “Give her the tonic. She needs to get out of here.”
Hades held his hand out, and a dark opaque vial appeared. He popped off the top and let three inky drops touch Hope’s lips. As if on instinct, her tongue slid over the fluid, absorbing the darkness and the opportunity it would give her.
And then she sat up. Confusion lined her golden features, and her gaze traveled from Hades to Xan and then to Athan. “You’re here!” Her eyes lit with joy, only to be replaced with confusion. “What happened?”
“You drank from the Lethe.”
Hope nodded slowly, as if trying to process the words.
“Do you remember anything else?” Ath
an’s heart beat with hope. He wanted her to remember what she’d learned. How to break the curse? That was why they were all there.
“I . . . I came . . . here. To the Underworld. Priska died, and . . . I came here.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Priska’s dead.”
He wanted to go to her, somehow comfort her, but knew her every second counted. “What else, Hope? This is really important. What else do you remember?”
Her forehead furrowed as she strained with concentration. “Hades and I talked, but before that . . .” She chewed on her lip. “I don’t remember.”
“You came to find out how to break the curse.” Xan stood against the wall, his face now hidden in the shadows.
“Yes.” She nodded, her head bobbing up and down. Tears still streaked her wet cheeks. “Yes. That’s why I’m here. I need to break the curse.”
Gods, she sounded drunk. No, worse. Time was ticking . . .
“Did you find out how?” With every hope in him, he wanted it to be true. He willed her to remember. To answer his question and smile with confidence.
She grimaced, and her body tensed.
“That is not how it works, Athan.” Xan pushed himself off the wall and crossed the room. Pushing into Athan’s space, Xan continued in a low voice, “Quit making this harder than it is. Tell her; don’t ask her.”
Hope looked back and forth between the two. Her eyes widened, and she worried the edge of the bedspread. “Why don’t you like each other?”
Xan snorted and backed away.
“We’re fine.” There was no way Athan was going to tell her all the reasons they didn’t like each other. Or, that they hadn’t liked each other. Because over the last few days, even in spite of himself, Athan had grown . . . at least respectful of the other demigod.
Xan rolled his eyes at Athan as if to contradict his statement then turned back to Hope.
“You saw your mum,” Xan said. “And your father was with her.”