by Raye Wagner
“Archarios.” She tried out the word. The gutturalness felt foreign, but something about the word resonated with her desire to belong.
He laughed again, an indulgent chuckle that made her blush.
“At one point, I was called kopritis,” he said.
She tried to remember if she’d ever heard this one, but nothing came to mind. “My Greek isn’t that good. What does kopritis mean?”
“Ah, let’s say it means lazy.” He reached out and nudged her leg.
“Is that what it means?”
“Yes, but it’s not a very nice way of saying it.” He relaxed into the chair and extended his legs toward the fire.
Hope looked down his long legs to his bare feet, and the fire licked at her heart.
“Were you? Lazy, I mean?” She had a hard time imagining Xan lounging around doing nothing, and yet he seemed very relaxed here at the moment.
“At the time? I reckon I was. At least by our standards. I wasn’t contributing anything to the greater good. I wasn’t even improving myself.” He sat up straight and tilted his head to the side. “I think everyone goes through a phase like that in their life.”
Hope pursed her lips.
He tapped her leg, but this time his fingers lingered. “Don’t disapprove. You might be there one day.”
That was ridiculous. She wouldn’t even dignify that with a response.
“The point is you can take all the time you need. It doesn’t have to happen tomorrow.” Xan scooted to the edge of his chair and then stood up. “In fact, if you don’t like something, you can even change your mind.”
Hope stared at this philosophical Xan. His patience and understanding continued to surprise her.
Xan moved closer and extended his hand to help her up. “You really are making great progress. I know I don’t tell you enough, but you’re coming along nicely. It can be a bit overwhelming here, and I want you to know you’re doing right well.”
“Thanks. You’re right. It’s been a lot to take in.” Her voice shook from the overwhelming exhaustion. She accepted his hand, and he pulled her up. For as comfortable as the chairs were, they did suck you in.
She went to pull her hand away, but he didn’t release it.
“I can see that. It’s been a long time since I was there, but I can remember.” He squeezed her hand. “And whatever I can do to help . . .”
He was such a great friend. “Thanks.”
“And you asked what my role is. What I do.” He took another step closer, and they were toe to toe.
He studied her and his voice dropped, wrapping comfort and peace around her as he spoke, “I’m Kathigitis. I’m your mentor.” He brushed her hair away from her face. “I have the task of keeping you safe, making sure you get good instruction, and it is my responsibility that you learn and progress.” His lips tilted upward, and he held her chin. “It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it.”
Her gaze dropped to his lips, and her breath caught in her throat. Her thoughts muddled into a tangled mess. Part of her wanted to step toward him, to close the distance. To feel his lips on hers. But part of her wanted to run far, far away. Her heart pounded, but she couldn’t tell if it was in anticipation or fear.
She glanced up to his eyes and took a step back. “I’m sorry. I can’t.” Not yet. She blushed as she studied the fire; the flames danced and crackled. What was happening? The last time she’d felt this way . . . Her thoughts went to Athan and then recoiled.
Xan’s hand at the small of her back brought her to the present.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t even know what to say.” Their eyes met, his cool blues so different from her gold ones. She noticed the hints of creases, the lines of worry, etched into his forehead, and part of her wanted to brush them away.
She heard footsteps at the same time someone cleared their throat.
Hope went to step back, suddenly aware of the proximity between her body and Xan’s, but Xan’s hand, still at her waist, held her close. Too close.
“Am I interrupting?” Athan’s voice was light, and he stood in the doorway. His lean body looked thinner than she remembered, and his green shirt made his eyes bright, like they were lit from within. But he wasn’t smiling. No, his jaw was clenched, his gaze hard.
“Athan.” Xan turned to the other demigod, and his arm slid around Hope’s waist. “Welcome back.” The words were cold and hard.
Hope wanted to die. She wanted to run. She wanted to hit Xan. She wanted to hit Athan. The indecision overwhelmed her, and she stood stock-still. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Say something. Anything. But she couldn’t think of a single thing.
“Thanks, Xan.” Athan hadn’t taken his eyes from her. Then he smiled. “What’s the matter, Hope? Cat got your tongue?”
The tension was a palpable force radiating between them.
“I, um . . .” She glanced at Xan and then again at Athan. What was he doing here? Why now? The strain was too much. “I’m sorry. I need to go.” She withdrew from Xan, and, without meeting Athan’s eyes, she fled the study.
What was that? She berated herself as she scurried to her room. For months she’d hoped he’d find her. Almost prayed for it. But now that he was here? The cat really did grab her tongue, and she acted ridiculous. Not that it should matter. She was furious with him. He was a liar. Why was he here?
She climbed the stairs, internally groaning with the weight of the questions inside her. Hope wasn’t sure if she wanted to cry or hit something.
“Uggghhh!” She threw her hands up and slumped into the wall.
“Goodness, girl. What’s that about?” Thenia’s voice came from behind.
Hope spun around, her face flushed. “Thenia! Sorry.” She exhaled. “I just . . .” What could she say? “Welcome back.”
“Thanks.” Thenia leaned forward and asked, “Any chance this is about Athan?”
Hope stepped away from the wall, closer to the smiling demigod. “You know he’s here?”
“Yeah. He came in about ten minutes after we got back. We were still unloading the car when he pulled up. He said he was looking for you. Did he find you?”
Hope snorted. “You could say that.”
“Oh good. Did you talk to him?”
“Uh, no.” Hope thought she might be sick. Just thinking about the two men in the study made her cringe. “Not really. I was in the study talking with Xan when he came in.” How could she even explain her irrational behavior?
“Xan?” Thenia said, and her smile faltered. “Uh, were you talking or kissing?”
“What?” Hope blushed at the thought of how close they’d come. Had Athan seen that? “No. No kissing.” If it was possible, she blushed harder.
“Right, then. Well, still, that couldn’t have gone well.” Thenia pursed her lips.
“They really don’t like each other?” As soon as Hope said it, she knew. The tension that had filled the room was like a tidal wave. Weird. Because Xan was so nice to everyone. Well, except Endy, but he was a jerk.
“No. Not so much.” Thenia paused as if weighing her words. “Those two have a lot of history. You should be careful.” Her raised eyebrows were like an exclamation point that came too late.
Hope’s gaze flicked to the ceiling. “Great.” She met Thenia’s eyes. “You know, I think I’ll just go to my room. I’m done for tonight.” Hope couldn’t deal with one more thing. She took two steps and then turned back. “Thanks, Thenia. I’m glad you’re home.”
Thenia smoothed her expression, but her eyes remained focused and serious. “Sure,” she said. And then after a moment of hesitation, she added in a lowered voice, “Good luck.”
The weight with which she delivered her well wishes spoke volumes about the trouble Hope was in, and she grimaced. “Good night.”
But there was nothing good about it. Nothing.
As if Thenia could read thoughts, she responded, “‘Night, Hope.”
Hope went into the sparse guest r
oom and closed the door behind her. She let out a long, slow exhale and leaned against the door.
“How long have you been at the conservatory?”
Hope yelped. Turning around, she noticed Athan sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Sorry.” He was quickly at her side. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Then what the Hades are you doing in my room with the light off?” Hope flicked the light on and glared at him.
“Right.” He took a step back. “Sorry. I wanted to talk to you, and you left abruptly.”
Hope clenched her teeth. “Oh. Well then, it’s all okay. Come on in.” Sarcasm dripped with the words. “What do you need to say?”
Athan frowned. “What’s with the hostility? Did I do something to you?”
She sputtered in her attempt to say anything, but words formed and disappeared before she could get them out. Finally, she said, “I trusted you.” She knew she was being irrational, but all the pent-up emotion erupted, blasting into the air between them. “I don’t even know what to believe anymore.”
Athan reached his hand out to touch her face, but something in her expression made him hesitate before contact. He dropped his hand to his side. “I never lied to you, Hope.”
“Really?” She wanted it to be true, had been wanting to hear those words for so long. But how could she trust him? “Did you lie to Obelia?”
“Obelia?” He stepped back as if she’d delivered a physical blow. His faced fell, and pain etched into his features. “Yes,” he answered. “I lied to Obelia, but that was a long time ago, Hope. I admit I’ve screwed up a lot, but not with you.”
“Stop.” She couldn’t hear it. His words tore at her heart, and she choked back the tears. “It’s too late. Don’t even try to justify yourself now.” She took a deep breath. “I thought you said you hated lies and deceit more than anything. That’s what you told me.” She lowered her head, unable to even look at him. The pain she thought she’d battled and defeated roared back to life, bringing a physical ache so strong it threatened to smother her. In a voice barely above a whisper she said, “You’re the biggest liar I’ve ever met. Please,” she pleaded, “please, get out.”
The silence extended and punctured fresh wounds, exacerbating the emotional bleeding of her heart.
She caught herself mid-sob and cleared her throat.
“Get out, Athan.” She choked on the next one and coughed over and over.
He reached out in protest, but his hand fell to his side as she pulled away.
“Okay, Hope.” His voice was filled with hurt. “If that’s what you want.” He stepped past her and opened the door. Without another word, he slipped through and closed it behind him.
Hope walked to her bed and threw herself on it. Her chest ached, racking sobs breaking through wave after wave. She cried for her loss, for the pain over the last year, for the unfairness of it all. She cried until she was exhausted, ’til there were no more tears left.
But even as evening disappeared into dusk, and dusk to night, she still didn’t have any answers.
THE MORNING LIGHT WAS MUTED, the overcast Seattle sky preventing any warmth or light of the sun from touching the area. A lot like her life.
Her emotions were still raw, but she was hungry. A quick glance at the clock told her it was late enough that the kitchen should be empty by now. Hope showered and dressed. Her stomach gave a loud growl, and she decided hunger took precedence over her pride. She slipped a pair of boots on and opened the door. The hall was quiet. Taking a deep breath, Hope made her way to the kitchen.
As soon as she walked in, she saw him. Xan sat at the kitchen table with a glass half-filled with water tilted to the side in his hand.
“I was wondering how long it would take you to come down this morning.” He worried the glass with his fingers, and his smile fell flat.
She stood in the doorway, her emotions warring. Uncertainty ate the words from her mind, and she said nothing. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, she crossed the kitchen to the fridge.
The tension in the air pulsed and contracted, taking on a life of its own.
“I’m sorry,” Xan said, and the tension popped. “I did it all arseways last night. I shouldn’t have put my arm around you, like that. I’m sorry.”
She met his gaze.
“It’s just . . .” Hope struggled, unsure even of what her feelings toward him were.
“No, you don’t owe me an explanation. You told me you weren’t ready. I wanted to apologize.” He stood up, took his glass to the sink, dumped the water, and then started for the door.
“Xan, wait.”
He came back to her, a spark of hope in his eyes.
“Are we”—Hope stumbled over the words—“still friends?”
Xan laughed, his dimple flashed, and his shoulders relaxed as if he’d dropped an invisible weight. “Hope, I like you. Clearly, I like you, so yes, we’re still friends. I’ll be your friend as long as you want me to be.”
She sighed with relief. She wasn’t sure she would’ve stayed if he’d said no. “I think I need . . .” She stopped and took a moment to reflect. Where she was used to insecurity filling her, a sense of confidence thumped in her chest. “You know, I don’t know what I need. But could we work out? I’d really like a good workout.” She needed to work through the rest of the frustration nagging at her. Somehow, she knew, punching would give her that release.
Xan’s relief lit his face. “Aye. Let’s go work up a sweat.”
Ten minutes later, the two walked off to the gym, the previous strain dissipated.
It was early evening before they called it quits. Both were wet with sweat, and Hope’s muscles were screaming from overuse. Her meager breakfast was long gone, and she was dying for a hearty meal.
“Hey, when do I get to go shopping? I’d do a lot right now for a good steak, or pot roast.” Her mouth watered with the thought. And it would feel great to get out of the conservatory.
“Not for a while. I can take you out next week though, if you’d like.”
The thought of going out with Xan filled her with warmth. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
He bumped her, shoulder to shoulder. “I think Dahlia went shopping yesterday, so there should be some fresh meat. Do you want to grill steaks?”
She was getting used to Xan’s constant touches, and she bumped him back. Steak sounded like the best thing in the entire world. “Mmm. Yes. I would sell my soul for a good steak.”
Xan chuckled. “Don’t sell your soul. Hades is brutal.”
As luck would have it, Dahlia had been in the kitchen with Obelia most of the afternoon, and they’d put together a feast. There were New York strips grilled to order, baked potatoes, grilled asparagus, creamed spinach, Caesar salad, and fresh baked bread. For dessert, the two had made a double chocolate cake with thick fudgy frosting, Tahitian vanilla crème brûlée, and caramelized poached pears with fresh goat cheese and candied pecans.
Hope gasped at the sight and smells of all the food. She grabbed a large dinner plate and filled it. Twice. But even with a full belly, she eyed the sweets. She grabbed a salad plate and served up a small helping of each dessert. The cake was dense and rich and not much to her liking, but the crème brûlée and pear were divine. She was silent while she ate, her focus on her plate of food. She was down to her last bite of the pear, the flavors melding in her mouth, when Xan interrupted.
“How can you stand to eat that?” Xan wrinkled his nose with disgust.
She couldn’t help it. She laughed so hard she almost spit pear pieces at him. She clamped her hand over her mouth and swallowed. But the laughter bubbled up out of her.
His laughter fed hers, and the two of them laughed hysterically. Tears streamed down Hope’s face. Dahlia gave them both a quizzical look, which only made them laugh harder.
Obelia rolled her eyes and muttered something to Dahlia.
Athan walked into the room, and with one glance, Hope’s laughter dried up, and h
er stomach dropped. His gaze held her, and shame clawed through her for how she’d treated him last night. All he’d asked for was a chance to explain. And she’d refused him. Had it been premature? Doubt wiggled in her stomach.
“Hope?” Xan’s voice pulled her back to the table.
She pulled her gaze from Athan and focused on Xan.
Xan followed her gaze to see what had drawn her attention. “Oh.” His voice dropped. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She wanted it to be true more than she actually believed it. She watched as Athan crossed the kitchen and spoke with Obelia. The young woman’s face lit with joy as she chatted happily with the son of Hermes.
“Are you done?” Hope was done watching, but she couldn’t pull her eyes away. She needed to get out of there.
Xan laughed. “Yeah. I was done a long time ago. I’ve been waiting on you, piggy.”
Was he being serious? She forced herself to look at Xan.
He smirked and shook his head. “I can’t believe you can eat that much.”
Hope collected her dishes and stood.
“Did you really call me a pig?” As she stacked the plates, she reconsidered her protest.
Xan laughed again. “Yep. Totally. I can only say it because there is not an ounce of fat on you, so you’d better not have a complex and get all twitted out on me.” He grabbed one of her extra plates, and the two of them crossed over to the sink.
Hope forced herself to keep her gaze away from Athan and instead studied the plates she carried.
“And now you’re trying to act like I’m unreasonable? Do you want to pick a fight?” She pushed him, but her arms felt like jelly, and there was no force behind her shove. She giggled when he pretended to stumble forward. Whoops. Her gaze caught on Athan’s. His eyes were flinty, and he was practically baring his teeth.
“Ha! That’s funny,” Xan said, and he pushed her back. “I actually just finished handing you your arse.”
Her fatigued legs almost gave out, and she wobbled back upright.