“Be king,” I whisper. “Wait. You’re already a king. Couldn’t you do it anyway?”
“I’m King of the Underworld, not King of the Gods. I would have to transfer all my godly powers along with my title to a mortal in order to save them.”
I slump. Well, that’s out, then.
He smooths a lock of hair from my forehead. “But if you win, I could make him immortal. I could make him a god. Samuel won the Labor today. All winners only have one each, including you. You would only need one or two more. There’s time.”
Hope is a peculiar, terrifying, painful thing. It floods me in a rush. Hades could save Boone. He could save him. All I have to do is win.
Hades lets out a sharp breath, murmuring words that I don’t catch but sound a lot like a prayer. Which can’t be right. Who would Hades pray to?
“Okay,” I whisper.
He goes still. “Okay?”
“I’ll win.” Trying is for people who expect to lose. I don’t have a choice. I have to win now. For Boone. Maybe I can harness a little of his cocky confidence. I could definitely use it.
I wish he was here now to show me how.
Hades’ arms tighten around me as he lifts his head, searching my expression. “You’re sure? Winning is a dangerous journey.”
“I know. But for Boone…and for whatever reason you have, too, I can do it.”
He searches my face again, like he doesn’t quite believe me. “Even with me not telling you why?”
“Yes.” That part is easier than it probably should be. “I trust you. You’ve shown me who you are, and I trust you.”
His brows draw together fiercely. “Fuck, Lyra. I—” He shakes his head.
Hades with no words is a sight to see. I want to wrap that lock of pale hair around my finger, brush it back from his forehead. I don’t. “Just…promise me you’ll save Boone if I win.”
“I swear on the River Styx that if you win, I will bring Boone back,” he says solemnly.
An oath I know means a great deal to the gods. Unbreakable. “Good.”
Hold on, Boone. I doubt he can hear me, but I tell him anyway. We’re coming.
Which is when it hits me… Zai, Meike, Amir, and Trinica. My allies. What do I do about them? Together, we were trying to just survive. It wasn’t about winning.
One problem at a time. Tomorrow is soon enough to figure that out. Maybe they’ll understand if I explain.
“Thank you.” I go to hug Hades, but the instant I lift my right arm, pain slices through my abdomen. I cry out as I hunch over, my hand going to the spot.
“Lyra?” Hades’ voice is urgent. “What’s wrong?”
“I—” I pull my hand away from my stomach, and it’s stained in bright-red blood. I stare at it blankly.
“Fuck.” Hades spits the word. “How did you get wounded?”
“I’m hurt?” I ask at the same time. I don’t remember being injured—maybe that sting when the automaton almost pushed me off, too—but nothing felt real after Boone started to fall.
In a blink, Hades has me lying on the couch that was across from us. I can’t straighten my legs because that pulls on the wound that I guess adrenaline, shock, and then grief were masking. Not anymore, though. He gently tugs my shirt up, then swears again, and I stare in horror at the gaping slice across my abdomen. Hades checks my back, and all it takes is a single grim look from him to know that the tentacle must’ve pierced me all the way through.
“I’ll get Asclepius,” he says.
“No!” I grip his wrist, but mostly because I don’t want him to leave me. “He can’t heal me. I didn’t win this Labor.”
The string of curse words that comes from his mouth would make a demon blush. “Fine,” he says. “I have souls down here who were once doctors. Charon!” he barks even as he rips a blanket off the back of the couch and rends it in half.
The part of me starting to go a little hazy from the blood loss mentally notes that they have blankets in the Underworld. Which seems odd. Isn’t it already warm here?
In an instant, the ferryman is standing in the room with us. He takes in the scene in a single, quick look.
“Asclepius can’t come.” Hades presses the cloth to my wound, and I cry out at the lancing pain. “Get her every godsdamned doctor down here if you have to,” he orders.
Charon doesn’t ask questions. He just goes.
And that’s the last thing I see before oblivion drags me under.
78
Which Way Is Up?
I know it’s coming. I know, and I can’t stop it.
Because ever since I blacked out, I’ve been trapped in a nightmare, reliving the same moment over and over, and even though some part of me knows this is just a dream, it feels real. Every time.
