“He hasn’t claimed me.”
“He has,” Morpheus murmurs thoughtfully. “I assume through a token of some kind. A coin, perhaps?”
“I don’t…” I trail off, recalling the gold coin he gave me the other day.
The one he told me to put on my wrist. Only it dissolved into my skin the second I took it from him.
I told him at the time that it felt like a trap to accept his “gift.” He responded that I felt that way because I knew him well.
So he never denied it.
Nor did he everexplainit.
“He told me it would keep you from bothering me,” I say slowly.
Morpheus snorts. “I suppose he’s not wrong; his claim protects you from my abilities. But it does a lot more than that. It identifies you as part of his mate-circle, something I believe he properly initiated when he let you play with Sera.”
My jaw clenches. “I fucking hate all your Alpha games.”
“I’m not the one playing right now,” Morpheus murmurs. “However, I am thinking, and Hades’s claim may be your ticket into the maze.”
All right. If that’s the case, then… “I’m listening.”
“First…” He turns to Typhos. “The Alphas shouldn’t be a problem for your realm any longer. While the maze Hades built is technically beneath the Netherworld Kingdom, it’s not a tangible location. More like a paradigm, I suppose, only far more intense in terms of creation magic. That’s why you can’t sense it or access it.”
Typhos narrows his gaze. “When I permitted you access to my realm, it was with the purpose of expecting you to watch over and protect my fae, not?—”
“Which we’ve been doing,” Morpheus inserts. “The Netherworld Kingdom and the Morpheus Kingdom are both safe.”
“Tell that to my Strigoi,” Typhos deadpans.
“Well, that whole situation with the throne wasn’t my responsibility,” Morpheus returns. “And you know how I feel about interfering in games of fate, Typhos. I observe. I bless them with dreams. I do notfixnightmares.”
Typhos grunts.
“Or are you saying you needed my assistance?” Morpheus presses. “Because it seems to me thatfateworked in your favor, yes?”
The Hell Fae King folds his arms across his broad chest, his dark blue eyes on Morpheus. “I don’tneedanything from you. I would just appreciate improved communication, given that I allow you to reside in my realm.”
Morpheus grins. “Consider me duly chastised, Your Majesty. Now, as far as communication goes, it seems to methat your Strigoi require an heir. Unfortunately, I hear he’s quite, shall we say, stealthy. Perhaps removing his ‘shadow’ would help, hmm?”
I have no idea what he’s talking about. Nor do I know how any of this is relevant to the situation with Sera. “Can we go back to discussing how Hades’s supposed claim can help us break through the maze wards now?”
Typhos looks at me and then at Morpheus. “Just get out of my palace.”
Morpheus’s smile grows. “Happily.” He grabs my arm before I can comment and mists us to my room in Death’s Palace.
My gaze narrows. This area of the palace is riddled with Hades’s magic. Morpheus bringing us here with such ease shouldn’t have been possible. “I assume the maze wards are different from the ones in this palace?” I guess, prompting him for an explanation.
He shrugs and releases me. “When Hades tasked me with cleanup duty, I made some changes.”
I snort, not at all surprised by his response. And any other day, I might even be amused by it.
Alas, I’m not in a humorous mood today.
“Well, if you know how to undo or alter Hades’s wards, then surely we can figure something out with the maze,” I tell him. “So start talking.”
“Your demanding nature is rather attractive, Ghost,” he drawls, then collapses into my favorite chair—just like Hades always does.
