The Goddess Legacy
Page 94
“No.” The word echoed through the throne room, even though he hadn’t spoken above a quiet murmur. “I cannot allow you to see her.”
I gaped at him. Was he serious? “Why not? You’ve allowed others to visit mortals in the Underworld before. Why can’t I see Tuck?”
But even as I said it, I knew. This was his revenge for what I’d done with Persephone. All these thousands of years of dancing around each other, pretending to be neutral—now that she was gone, now that he thought I’d played an integral role in stealing her from him, he was stealing Tuck from me. An eye for an eye.
“You can’t do this,” I said. “She hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“But you have.” He leaned forward, his silver eyes locked on me. “You are the one who wants to see her, not the other way around.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” He straightened again. “I will not allow it, and if you try to sneak away to find her, I will have her moved around the Underworld as many times as I must to keep her from you. You will never see her again, not as long as I am King of the Underworld.”
He may as well have reached inside me and ripped out every piece of me that had ever mattered. I stood there, trembling, trying to think of a way around it, but I’d already apologized a thousand times over. I’d already done everything I could to make it up to him. His pride and his fury stopped him from moving beyond this, and now, because of that, we were both stuck.
My hands tightened into fists. I could hit him. I wanted to hit him more than I wanted to live, but I’d worked too hard to get back on even footing with the rest of the council. Any attack on Hades would only send me spiraling again.
I couldn’t do a damn thing, and he knew it.
“Then—could you give her something for me?” I said, slipping my shaking hand into my pocket. The moment my fingertips touched the pendant, however, Hades shook his head.
“No.”
Of course. Of bloody course. I raked my free hand through my hair, my vision growing red. “It isn’t my fault, what happened to Persephone,” I blurted. “She’s the one who made those decisions. I just pointed out the fact that she had a choice.”
“She did have a choice,” said Hades. “But so did you. I am not holding you accountable for Persephone’s actions. I am holding you accountable for your own.”
I turned away. He was right, even if his methods were despicable, even if he wasn’t being fair. I’d made my choices, and I’d suffered the consequences for them time and time again. This was just the final one.
“All right,” I said shakily as I turned back to face him. “Fine. I accept your ruling, under the condition that this is it. You can hate me as much as you want, but this is the last time you hold this over me. Period.”
He tilted his head almost curiously. For one of us to talk to the original six like this—it was crazy, especially when he already couldn’t stand me. But I didn’t care. Enough was enough.
“We’re even. I took Persephone from you, and you took Tuck from me. End of story.”
I brushed my thumb against the pendant as I spoke. I’d never see her again. Not easy to swallow, not by any means, but I refused to break down in front of Hades. I was stronger than this. Tuck had made me stronger than this, and to accept this with anything but bitter grace would be dishonoring her memory. And I wouldn’t do that.
“Very well,” said Hades after a long moment, touching the empty throne beside him. “We are even. Now go.”
I made my way past the pews, aware of the souls who’d witnessed every moment of our conversation. None of them mattered, though. The only soul I wanted to see was one I would never meet again. Hades had seen to that.
Halfway down the aisle, however, I stopped and faced him once more. An invisible fist squeezed my heart. “Is she happy?”
Even from a distance, I could feel Hades’s stare burning into me. “Does it matter, when you cannot do anything to change it?”
“Yes,” I said. It mattered.
He pursed his lips, and at last he sighed. “Yes, she is happy.”
That was all I needed to know. It would never change the past, it would never get me there in time to save her, but at least I could rest knowing she wasn’t in any pain. That was one small amount of comfort Hades could never take from me.
“Thank you,” I said, and without another word, I turned and walked away.
* * * * *
God of Darkness
Calliope’s Offer
As Lord of the Underworld, Hades was feared by the living and revered by the dead. A member of the eternal council of gods, he had unimaginable power at his fingertips, ready to do whatever he must to uphold his duties and laws. And as the ruler of the souls who died, he would live forever, guaranteed true immortality through his duties to them.
But he would have traded it all if it meant he could be mortal.
In his existence, Hades had seen more faces and heard more stories than the rest of the council combined. Eventually every mortal entered his kingdom, and while he only came face-to-face with a fraction of them, he felt each and every presence. He felt each and every moment of their lost lives.
And that was why he envied them their mortality. To have a set period of time to live—to know there would be an end instead of an endless sea of time… It would have been a wonderful thing. That way, even if he wound up alone, he would know it would end someday. Being a god granted him no such relief.
I gaped at him. Was he serious? “Why not? You’ve allowed others to visit mortals in the Underworld before. Why can’t I see Tuck?”
But even as I said it, I knew. This was his revenge for what I’d done with Persephone. All these thousands of years of dancing around each other, pretending to be neutral—now that she was gone, now that he thought I’d played an integral role in stealing her from him, he was stealing Tuck from me. An eye for an eye.
“You can’t do this,” I said. “She hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“But you have.” He leaned forward, his silver eyes locked on me. “You are the one who wants to see her, not the other way around.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” He straightened again. “I will not allow it, and if you try to sneak away to find her, I will have her moved around the Underworld as many times as I must to keep her from you. You will never see her again, not as long as I am King of the Underworld.”
He may as well have reached inside me and ripped out every piece of me that had ever mattered. I stood there, trembling, trying to think of a way around it, but I’d already apologized a thousand times over. I’d already done everything I could to make it up to him. His pride and his fury stopped him from moving beyond this, and now, because of that, we were both stuck.
My hands tightened into fists. I could hit him. I wanted to hit him more than I wanted to live, but I’d worked too hard to get back on even footing with the rest of the council. Any attack on Hades would only send me spiraling again.
I couldn’t do a damn thing, and he knew it.
“Then—could you give her something for me?” I said, slipping my shaking hand into my pocket. The moment my fingertips touched the pendant, however, Hades shook his head.
“No.”
Of course. Of bloody course. I raked my free hand through my hair, my vision growing red. “It isn’t my fault, what happened to Persephone,” I blurted. “She’s the one who made those decisions. I just pointed out the fact that she had a choice.”
“She did have a choice,” said Hades. “But so did you. I am not holding you accountable for Persephone’s actions. I am holding you accountable for your own.”
I turned away. He was right, even if his methods were despicable, even if he wasn’t being fair. I’d made my choices, and I’d suffered the consequences for them time and time again. This was just the final one.
“All right,” I said shakily as I turned back to face him. “Fine. I accept your ruling, under the condition that this is it. You can hate me as much as you want, but this is the last time you hold this over me. Period.”
He tilted his head almost curiously. For one of us to talk to the original six like this—it was crazy, especially when he already couldn’t stand me. But I didn’t care. Enough was enough.
“We’re even. I took Persephone from you, and you took Tuck from me. End of story.”
I brushed my thumb against the pendant as I spoke. I’d never see her again. Not easy to swallow, not by any means, but I refused to break down in front of Hades. I was stronger than this. Tuck had made me stronger than this, and to accept this with anything but bitter grace would be dishonoring her memory. And I wouldn’t do that.
“Very well,” said Hades after a long moment, touching the empty throne beside him. “We are even. Now go.”
I made my way past the pews, aware of the souls who’d witnessed every moment of our conversation. None of them mattered, though. The only soul I wanted to see was one I would never meet again. Hades had seen to that.
Halfway down the aisle, however, I stopped and faced him once more. An invisible fist squeezed my heart. “Is she happy?”
Even from a distance, I could feel Hades’s stare burning into me. “Does it matter, when you cannot do anything to change it?”
“Yes,” I said. It mattered.
He pursed his lips, and at last he sighed. “Yes, she is happy.”
That was all I needed to know. It would never change the past, it would never get me there in time to save her, but at least I could rest knowing she wasn’t in any pain. That was one small amount of comfort Hades could never take from me.
“Thank you,” I said, and without another word, I turned and walked away.
* * * * *
God of Darkness
Calliope’s Offer
As Lord of the Underworld, Hades was feared by the living and revered by the dead. A member of the eternal council of gods, he had unimaginable power at his fingertips, ready to do whatever he must to uphold his duties and laws. And as the ruler of the souls who died, he would live forever, guaranteed true immortality through his duties to them.
But he would have traded it all if it meant he could be mortal.
In his existence, Hades had seen more faces and heard more stories than the rest of the council combined. Eventually every mortal entered his kingdom, and while he only came face-to-face with a fraction of them, he felt each and every presence. He felt each and every moment of their lost lives.
And that was why he envied them their mortality. To have a set period of time to live—to know there would be an end instead of an endless sea of time… It would have been a wonderful thing. That way, even if he wound up alone, he would know it would end someday. Being a god granted him no such relief.
