“You want me?” His face did that supremely satisfied thing. When it’s not annoying, his arrogance is slightly endearing. “Good. Get well and I’m sure we can figure something out. I have plans.”
I don’t remember what happened after that. I probably drifted back off.
But what’s sticking with me now is the way he said he had plans.
Mine. My star. Plans.
For me? For us? Does it have something to do with the Crucible? Or was he just teasing?
He steps farther into the room and into the light of the lantern, and I gasp.
“Fuck.” Charon’s on his feet. “That bad?”
And I don’t blame him. Hades looks awful, visibly somber, which I think might be Hades’ version of shaken. His lips are pinched, eyes sunken into the pallor of his face. He looks like…well, like death warmed over.
Hades lifts a single eyebrow at Charon. “What do you think?” he asks in a voice devoid of all emotion.
The ferryman winces.
“Did I interrupt something?” Hades asks, flat tone turning silky.
Charon doesn’t look at me. “Not really. I was just about to fill her in on what she missed.”
What I missed? My mind is moving at the speed of a sloth, so I’m not entirely keeping up with this conversation.
“I’ll do that,” Hades says.
A distinct doggy whimper comes from the hallway, and behind Hades, one of Cerberus’ heads leans down to look into the room with one eye.
“Hey, buddy.”
“Are you okay?” This is Rus, and it makes me smile.
“Doing much better. Give me another day or two, and I’ll be back in the Labors again.”
“We don’t like that.” I can’t see the other heads, but Cer is the one talking.
Me neither. But I have more riding on winning now than just me. A lot more. My gaze slides to Hades, and suddenly all I can see is a man who would do anything for the few people he loves most.
Hades doesn’t change his expression by so much as a flicker, but a flare of dark suspicion sizzles through me—a flare of clarity and knowing that isn’t mine. It’s coming from somewhere else.
Oh wow.
It takes everything I have not to gasp, not to let the shock show on my face.
That was real? The emotions I got from him earlier. Those weren’t hallucinations or wishful projections. Those were all real.
Because of his blood? It has to be. Maybe it will wear off. Does he know?
Why is he suspicious, though? The Crucible? Or maybe about what Charon was telling me? Not that he got a chance to tell me much.
I shift my gaze to Charon, who won’t look me in the eyes. “Better get back to the boat,” he mutters. He gives my leg a squeeze over the covers. “Good to see you lucid finally, Lyra.”
He and Hades exchange an inscrutable glance as he leaves. “Come on, Cerberus. Let’s give them some privacy.”
Cerberus grumbles as they walk away.
But I’m too busy studying Hades to care. “Where were you?” I ask.
83
Too Late
“The Stygian Marsh.”
The crossroads of the Underworld. Where souls are judged and sent to different destinations depending on how they lived their lives in the Overworld. It’s said Hades has to judge the best and worst cases and render blessings or punishment. Given how he looks, it doesn’t take a genius to guess which he was just deciding.
“Want to talk about it?” I ask.
Knee-jerk denial ripples over his features, but then he pauses and leans in the doorway. “The judgment wasn’t the hard part. This soul was a sociopath and tortured and killed many people without mercy or remorse.” He shrugs, but I can see the weight of whatever they must’ve been like in the action.
I wait quietly for the hard part.
“But his mother is a soul in Asphodel, and…” He drops his head back against the doorjamb. “She begged for his punishment to be lessened, told me about his abusive father. I saw it all, of course.”
“Was it bad?”
