Turns out being made a goddess knocked the curse right off me, although Hades claims that he broke it just with his charm alone.
“This is ridiculous,” I mutter out of the side of my mouth at him.
“I agree, my star.” He raises our clasped hands and presses a kiss to my knuckles, lifting his head with a smile.
And I melt a little.
He’s been sweet like this these days following the Crucible while we’ve hidden out in the Underworld, reveling in the new world that we’ve started building together. Even Charon and Cerberus—the Styx healed our dog just fine—have hardly been allowed to visit us, and only on order of not telling us what’s happening elsewhere. We’ll deal with reality soon enough. In between…other things…Hades has been teaching me how to rule the Underworld. It’s not easy.
But it feels worthwhile.
“Put up with the ceremony,” he tells me as we walk down a long hallway in a building in Olympus I haven’t been in before. “They’ll gloat that we lost. But I don’t think we have, and I’ll show you why when we get home again.”
A sizzle of his emotions—something that hasn’t gone away yet—courses through my blood. Desire. But also a wonderous contentment that makes me giddy. Charon says it’s disgusting how happy Hades is.
And that’s despite our worry over not having solutions to help Persephone or Boone yet. She’s still stuck in Tartarus. And Boone…well, Hades no longer has a crown to give up to make him a god. We’re not even sure who won the Crucible, since the finish line disappeared after I crossed it. Probably Diego, seeing as he had the most wins before that.
In the days following the final Labor, Hades and I have talked. We talk now. About everything.
And we talked about this in detail. We decided that if Diego is the winner, the plan is to talk to Demeter—we’ll help her get Persephone out of Tartarus. Although that’s the second thing Hades hasn’t told me specifics about yet—what being the King of the Gods had to do with it. Zeus said something about a box.
What I did discover is that it’s connected to how Hades found out about the sirens being part of the Labors. When I asked, his expression took on a wicked glint filled with laughter and…a suspicious sort of knowing. “I have an inside source,” he said. “Someone who can see the future.”
I raised my eyebrows at that. “An oracle?”
There hasn’t been an oracle born in centuries.
He shook his head. “I’ll tell you someday soon. Just know that this person can see multiple futures. She is how I knew about the sirens. She is who told me to break your heart when I did.”
“I’m pretty sure I don’t like this source,” I muttered darkly.
Which made him laugh.
“She’s who told me to make you my champion. And the reason I trusted that you’d come out unharmed is because she also told me I’d be the King of the Gods. Which meant you’d win.”
“And you believed her?” I crossed my arms and glared at him then. “But you’re not king. I’m not so sure this source is trustworthy.”
He shrugged, seeming unworried when what I would have expected him to be is suspicious or pissed. “I told you. She sees multiple futures.” Then he pulled me into him, holding me tight and resting his chin on the top of my head. “As long as I have you, we’ll figure out the rest.”
So now, all we have to do is get through this crowning ceremony for whichever god or goddess won, then figure out a plan to help our friends. The new ruler better not be fucking Zeus. In fact, if he’s there at all, I’m not entirely sure what Hades will do. He’s gone smolderingly silent any time I bring up his brother.
With an irritated sound, I twitch at the dress I’ve basically been sewn into, which I have already been complaining about.
Hades is dressed in black again, mostly to see the way I would laugh at him, I think. A modern suit, designed to match my dress. Two butterflies facing each other, their wings forming a larger butterfly, are embroidered over his heart, right in the center of a black threaded star.
His symbol for the two of us.
Meanwhile, I am trussed up in a diaphanous gown of the unique, glowing blue of the Underworld. A sort of modern take on ancient Greece—slim fitting, it has a strap over only one shoulder, and the skirt splits into panels with long slits up to my hips. The material is sheer, and because of the slip that matches my skin so well, I look like I am naked underneath. Butterflies of many-colored iridescent threads are embroidered along every hemline. A gold band at my waist, more at my wrists, and a gold neckpiece that means I have to keep my chin up or pinch my skin in it are all sources of added irritation.
Aphrodite made me this gown. That’s the only reason I am putting up with it.
“You go in here,” he says. “Nike will escort you to where I’ll be in a few minutes.”
“What?” Is it silly that I don’t want to leave his side? My heart shrivels a bit. I’m still traumatized after everything that happened, I guess.
He runs a finger down my cheek, and I shiver in response. “I’ll be close, my star. I promise.”
When I nod, he presses a kiss to my lips, then ushers me through double doors, closing them behind me. I pause just inside as I find all the other champions standing in a large room with no windows.
Zai sees me first, and he goes still, a slow smile breaking out over his face.
“Lyra!” Trinica is first across the room to pull me into her for a tight hug. “Oh my gods,” she said. “We didn’t know what happened to you.”
By the time she lets me go, the others have made it to where we are, and I find myself being passed from hug to hug, laughing as I go.
When we finally stop all the hugging, I sober a little. I’ve been wanting to tell them this for days. “You should know that I’ve seen the others—Isabel, Meike, Neve, and Dex—they’re all in Elysium now.” I reach over and squeeze Dae’s arm. “Your grandmother, too. She said to tell you to take care of your sisters and…” I repeat the Korean words she taught me, hoping I get it right.
His eyes turn a little glassy. “That means ‘my family is my strength and my weakness,’” he whispers. “She used to tell me that when I got annoyed with my sisters.” Then he gives me a small bow. “Thank you.”
“Are you seriously a goddess, Lyra?” Amir asks.
I find eight pairs of eyes trained on my face. “Yes.”
“Of what?” Zai asks.
I laugh. “We don’t know yet. Still figuring it out.”
“Well, don’t expect me to pray to you,” Zai says with a grin. And I laugh again.
