Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 18893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 94(@200wpm)___ 76(@250wpm)___ 63(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 94(@200wpm)___ 76(@250wpm)___ 63(@300wpm)
I swallow against my dry mouth and nod in greeting, unable to speak. He seems to sense that I can’t get any words out, because he returns my nod and drops his hand to his side.
Finally, I manage to bow my head, “My lord,” I greet him. “I did not hear you enter.” The cold shadow of power that surrounds him envelopes my very being. His very presence evokes fear. Hades, lord of the underworld and king of the dead. He does as he wills and so it will be for all souls.
In this moment though, I feel calm with the manner in which he looks down at me. In the centuries I have served him, I have known him to be just and fair, even if that requires harshness and brutality. His decisions are swift and heavy. My heart races feeling his presence. Before fear can linger, he speaks.
“You will stay tonight,” he says evenly, his voice deep and gravelly. He glances at Ivy, who sleeps quietly, unbeknownst to her that the king of the underworld stands at the foot of her bed. “You have business here and you have served me well.”
Shock and gratitude rock through me. My eyes widen as I stare up at him in disbelief.
“My lord?” My heart beats faster, harder. I don’t dare to hope, but I’ve spent centuries living on hope. On the smallest chance that I would have Ivy again to hold and cherish.
“I will need you for business as well...shortly,” he states and I eagerly agree to whatever it is that he may require of me.
“Hecate—” I begin. I can’t simply stay here. That’s never been a choice.
“I have told her,” Hades says.
The fire in my chest burns brighter than ever. It burns brighter than I thought it ever could again. The sweet relief of being granted permission to stay could take me to my knees if I let it.
“I…” There are no words that will allow me to thank Hades the way he should be thanked. Not for this. He’s handed me my life back. “Thank you, my lord.”
“Stay with your soulmate,” he says with finality. This is an order I don’t intend to refuse. I’ll never leave her again. “She may not remember,” he says, “but I do and I come with a gift. Remember this when I need you once again.”
“Hades, my lord…” At a loss for words, I accept the box but Hades doesn’t release it at first. With the heavy iron box between us he says, his dark eyes piercing mine, “You doubt your power but you do not dare to doubt mine. I give her back to you, and in return you will aid me.”
I nod, wordlessly, and he nods in return before leaving me in silence and with the contents of the iron box.
IVY
Iwake up suddenly to a pressure at the end of the bed. My body is tight at first, startled and still. But then I remember.
It’s him. It’s odd as the room focuses before my blurred vision, I don’t seem to crave what once was. It’s warm and comfortable and there’s something here that begs me to find it. I can feel it. It’s like a whisper I can’t quite make out.
I blink, bleary-eyed, and sit up, rubbing at my eyes.
It’s been a long time since I fell asleep. I feel rested and also think that it must be the middle of the night, if things like the middle of the night even exist in this place. Whatever time it is, it’s late, and everything is dark outside the window.
He holds out his hand to me.
Am I getting used to him? Am I getting complacent? Or is there truly magic in this place? Because something so unsettled inside of me feels at peace when I look into his eyes.
What’s the right thing to do if you might be stuck somewhere forever? With every minute that goes by, I believe him a little more.
If he says forever, I’ll be here forever.
And I don’t want to admit it, but I wonder what that would be like. Forever. That’s more than one lifetime.
His words chased me in my sleep, telling me we’ve loved each other for lifetimes before.
Hesitantly, I put my hand in his. Our fingers slide together like we were meant to hold one another, and my heart twists again, wanting more of his comfort.
“What is it?” I ask. “Is something wrong?”
“Come see what I’ve done.”
I’m not sure what I’m seeing at first, and then my eyes adjust to the low light and the brighter lights within.
There are red candles, thin and tapered and lovely, on a gold tray. This isn’t decorative. The candles have been burned before, as part of a ritual that someone took great care with. Something about the tray tells me that it’s important.