“What? Get back from where?”
He ignored her as he made his way towards the door and opened it.
“Cerberus,” she called his name, and the damnable, confusing thrill returned. “You’re going to let me leave though, right?”
Cyane grabbed his arm. The warmth of her hand seemed to bleed through his armor even though he knew that was impossible. The chill of the Underworld had long ago settled in his bones for good.
But where she touched him, he warmed up, just a little.
“Leave? No, Cyane, I’m not going to let you leave. Not yet.”
He removed himself from her presence and firmly shut the door to his room.
Godly Revelations
Why doeshe think Hades brought me here?
Cyane frowned. She didn’t know how long she stayed in place, staring at the door after Cerberus left. One moment he’d been right in front of her,somethinggrowing between them, and in the next, he was gone.
She’d have another chance to persuade him. She was sure of it.
The headache returned behind her eyes, and she turned away from the door.
She believed. She freaking believed her circumstances. If the huge open window framing the castle and the waters from before wasn’t enough, her recent experiences were.
I’m not dealing with men and women…
Dread and excitement gut-punched her.
Were the gods omniscient? Were they watching her now? Had one of them brought her here?
Why?
Maybe Hades really did bring me here.It’s the only answer she’d received.
Part of her wanted to slam her fists against the door and scream at the top of her lungs, for help, for anyone, for fucking Cerberus to come back and give her more answers. She resisted the urge. Fatigue, frustration, and anger pulsed through her, all longing for an escape, but she’d never been a violent person. She never had the luxury, always fearing punishment should she speak out.
The nuns at the school made sure of that. Once, she’d snuck out of her room at night to see her friend only to be caught and punished for her transgression. Mistress Loraine had sheared off her hair, forcing her to go bald for a year by roughly shaving her scalp weekly. The other girls had avoided her after that, and she ended up alone behind stone and plaster walls. Even now, when Cyane stroked her fingers over her head, she felt the scars hidden beneath.
All her scars were hidden away.
Even if she screamed for help, it might not be Cerberus who answered her call… It never was who she wanted when she screamed for help at the school.
Cyane searched for a place to sit and wait—to hope that she wouldn’t be left alone long—when it occurred to her how bizarre the room actually was.
Paintings decorated every wall, all in reds, blacks, and grays with the occasional startlement of white. They depicted battles, meetings, monsters, and conquests.
Cerberus was within every image, and it floored her that she recognized him regardless of his form. In some, he was the monstrous dog, but as she turned, figuring out the order, she recognized the man in the later images.
She recognized others as well. Hades, Charon—who looked suspiciously like Captain Haros—Hermes the psychopomp, and even Hercules with his lion’s pelt. That image made her stomach drop; it depicted Hercules holding a chained Cerberus for all the crowds of humans to gawk at.
The very next image showed Hades bestowing Cerberus a man’s form.
She hadn’t come to Europe, to backpack through Greece, and not familiarized herself withsomemythology. Everyone knew the myth of Hades and Persephone, Icarus and the sun, and Zeus and his lightning bolt. She knew them too, but only in broad strokes. She wasn’t a scholar and didn’t know the detailed hierarchy and its inner workings.
But it was the first portrayal of Persephone that finally convinced Cyane to approach the wall.
Her breath caught in her throat.
