“Nope. Patrick doesn’t want it,” Wade said quickly.
“Wade,” Sage said warningly.
He scowled at her, clearly sulking. “No more gods is our pack’s motto. We agreed on that last month.”
“Hush.”
“What is it?” Patrick asked, wanting to get it over with and move on. This time, he wasn’t bleeding at Persephone’s feet. This time, he had his pack with him. This time, he could say no and survive whatever came after.
“I gave you your life, and you lived it well. We gods gave you the dagger, and you wielded it how heroes do. The only thing left is the wolf.”
Patrick went cold, stomach twisting. “You aren’t taking Jono.”
“I willeatyou,” Wade added, blowing smoke out of his nose.
Persephone chuckled, the sound not quite mocking but close enough. “Oh, fledgling. This is a gift.”
“I’ve had enough of those to last three lifetimes,” Patrick said.
Persephone walked over to them, flowers blooming in her wake. “No strings. No debt. This is given freely.”
Jono’s hand settled against the small of Patrick’s back, a grounding touch that helped him stand his ground as Persephone approached. The smell of flowers grew stronger, coating his throat, and he swallowed against the floral taste of spring.
Persephone came to a stop in front of his pack, the smile gracing her face making her look almost human. “We gave you the wolf and bound you together. We have decided you may keep the soulbond, and you need not fear your government learning of it. It is a secret that will be kept by the will of the gods.”
“I would’ve stayed without it,” Jono growled.
“We know.”
“Why?” Patrick asked, looking for the catch, because there was always something owed when it came to the gods and their machinations.
“Because this is the end the Fates have finally decreed.”
And maybe that was true, but it was a costly win no matter how one looked at it. This world was no longer his father’s myth, but it was a story Patrick had lived. Going forward, maybe Patrick would be more than a footnote in some long-forgotten history. Maybe he’d be the hero in a cautionary tale, someone who’d survived the trials and tribulations the gods had thrown in his path and gained a future he could live with.
Maybe one day, when he died, he wouldn’t be remembered.
Patrick reached for Jono’s hand, finding him reaching back. He intertwined their fingers, and the squeeze Jono gave him was a reminder that he’d never let go.
“I don’t need a soulbond to know Jono will stay, or to know he loves me, but if removing it is going to hurt how it did when we got it, then I guess we’ll keep it,” Patrick said.
“So will I,” Jono said.
Persephone inclined her head ever so slightly. “May the binding be forever.”
She turned to go, the veil already splitting apart behind her, when Patrick said, “Wait.”
Persephone paused and looked back at them. “Yes?”
“Does my mother’s family still pray to you?”
He hadn’t been able to bring himself to ask when he’d spoken to Eloise after he returned from the veil. They were still navigating their familial relationship, and he knew he couldn’t move forward without an answer.
Persephone smiled slightly. “There are many prayers that reach my ears these days. So many more people believe in us gods since the fight at the end of the world, but your grandmother’s prayers no longer reach my ears.”
She walked away and disappeared into the veil, cherry blossoms swirling in the space she left behind. Her words lingered though, and Patrick wondered if that was what she and the gods had been after all along—a life lived through new believers, gods an undying memory, no matter the consequences.
Jono tugged on his hand, drawing him forward. “Come on. We’ve a flight to catch.”
