His frown and shaking head show me he thinks I’m an utter idiot. “I told Zeus he was putting too much stock in you.”
I blink. I thought he was Zeus. And that I’d lost his favor.
“Go back,” he supplies, huffing impatiently at my apparent inability to grasp simple concepts.
“Back?” I don’t understand. There is no back from here.
“Would you rather stay?” he asks in exasperation.
I stare at him. I feel like we’re speaking two different languages, and I may not understand either.
The God—because he’s definitely that, even if he’s not Zeus—leans down to my height, getting us more nose-to-nose than I want to be. I inch back, and he follows.
“Do you know where you are?” he asks.
I nod. I wish I didn’t, but denial seems to have abandoned me completely.
“Then let me tell you about Tartarus, the land where you’re not dead, but you end up wishing you were. It’s either horrifically boring or horrifically painful.” Without looking at Prometheus, he jerks his head toward my unfortunate neighbor. “Either way, it’s worse than you can possibly imagine. I’ve been here forever, and an eternity on top of that—no hunger, no thirst, no war, no sex.Nothing. Then you showed up, huddling like a pathetic, dormant little ball on your cliffside when you’re theonly onewith the means to get out of this place.”
My jaw loosens.What?
“Zeus told me all about you. The Queen you should already be. The magic you should already have. He said you’re my passage to the Underworld—finally—so you had better not ruin this for me.”
“I…” I don’t want to admit it, especially to this rage-filled mammoth, but… “I don’t understand.”
Scoffing impatiently, even though he hasn’t explained anything, he finally waves a hand out over the valley. “Fly out of here. Open a tear in the sky with the lightning Zeus gave you, spread your wings, and you’re free. Which is a lot better than I can say for anyone else on this abysmal plane,” he mutters under his breath.
I glance over my shoulder, already knowing what I won’t see there. “Zeus stripped me of my wings. He took control of my magic. I can’t fly.”
The huge male prowls forward, the magnitude of his presence forcing me away from the rock wall. “Fly off this cliff yourself, or I’ll throw you over.”
Anxiety shoots through me. But I also don’t believe him. One thing is clear—he won’t kill me if I’m his passage out. I detect no lie in his words, though. Maybe my Kingmaker Magic doesn’t work in Tartarus. Or maybe it doesn’t work on Gods.
I take another step away from him, moving toward Prometheus. I need space, and there is none.
“Tartarus is where you’re alive but don’t live. Do you want to live?” he asks, driving me toward the sheer drop.
I nod, wide-eyed. Of course I do. And not here. The numbness from before has been thoroughly shocked from my system, and a flood of emotions is battering me. One feeling stands out: leave this place. Leave this place now.
I glance down, the dizzying height suddenly making my gut clench. I’m on the edge of the ledge with nowhere left to go. I try to flex wings that aren’t there. I don’t feel them stirring. There’s no now-familiar flutter in my chest. There’s nothing at all.
The God growls. “If you’re lucky here, you simply exist. If you’re not, eternal punishment is your reality…forever. And believe me, young one, you have no idea what forever means.”
He steps forward again, looming over me. My stomach hollowing, I use my last inch, sending bits of shale careening off the shelf.
“Your baby will never grow, never be born, never live.”
I swallow. Little Bean should live.
“Your husband will grow old and die and go to a place where you will never see him again. He’ll wait. And despair.”
My breath cuts off.Griffin.
A crafty smile lifts his lips. “Or maybe he’ll grow tired of waiting for you and find comfort in the arms of another woman.”
That potential outcome flashes before my eyes, heartbreaking. “I have no wings,” I say, my voice like gravel.
“Do you know who I am?” He grabs my arms, and I gasp at the hot jolt of power that writhes through me like the living thing it is.
