“I agree.” Phaedrus studied his nails. “Trying to undo centuries of oppression sounds like a labor in futility.”
“Maybe.” Seraphim rolled up her map, gripping it tightly. “But I had an idea. An army awaits us in Hades—they’ll do everything in their power to keep usoutof the Acheron. But what if their army was gone?”
Ceasing his pacing, Eleos looked up, brow wrinkled in thought.
Phaedrus ran a hand under his chin. “Go on . . .”
“If a proper rebellion formed for the first time,” Seraphim continued, “Hades would answer. And while the Acheron would still be guarded, sneaking inside would be far easier.”
Tilting my head, I considered her plan. My father had the country under his thumb and liked it that way.Neededit to be that way. Should someone legitimately threaten his rule, he would respond swiftly.
It just might work.
Lifting my head, I nodded. “Cerys is working with them. She can tell us what they need. But, Seraphim. This will be a significant delay.”
“Our first entry into Hadesmustsucceed,” Seraphim said, twisting the map. “We will not get a second chance.”
Eleos looked down. “No, we won’t. But would we be condemning these people to death when the army comes for them?”
“Maybe,” Seraphim said softly.
Swallowing, Eleos began pacing again.
“A difficult choice,” Phaedrus said. “I would sleep on it.”
“Yes, I . . .” Eleos sighed. “I need to think.”
What did I think? Insurgencies were pointless—nothing would ever change. But using one to reach the Acheron might just work.
Aethra grabbed my wrist. “Come here,” she ordered before sweeping out the door.
“Yes, your highness,” I muttered, following her outside.
The sun dipped below the horizon. Nervously rubbing my arm, I glanced toward the gates, hoping my father was long gone.
Running to catch up with Aethra, I glanced around the plot of dirt she had stopped in. “What are you up to?”
“Why don’t you care?” She demanded, jabbing a finger into my chest. “You didn’t feel one emotion during that entire conversation.”
Scoffing, I looked off to the side. “This is my reality, Aethra. It’s not exactly news.”
“You hate it here! Wouldn’t you be excited to have a chance to make it better?”
“A thousand would-be rebels have risen and fallen over the course of our history. Why would this one be any different?”
“Because we have you, and Cerys, and—”
Lowering my voice, I leaned closer. “More dead than you can fathom lie buried beneath the Duat. Gods among them. Traitors, just like us.”
Aethra set her jaw. Her eyes flicked down. “You say Haimyx is four hundred years old. The stories say he’s over a thousand. Why did he only produce an heir fifty years ago?”
“Because he never wanted one,” I said, though I suspected she already knew the answer. “I’m not sure why I came about. An accident, maybe.”
“Why didn’t he just kill you, or your mother?”
“Because he loved Ma’at,” I said. “Simple as that.”
She looked up, jaw still set in defiance. I could see an idea glimmering behind her eyes, but she did not voice it. Stepping back, she extended her hand.
