Page 47 of Curse the Flame

The thought arrives so quietly that I almost miss the word buried inside it.

If. Not when.

Ever since I followed Sir here, I’ve been sure there will be an after, when I’m home again and I can think that all of the time I spent with Aiden in his palace was nothing more than a super vivid dream.

Only it’s not a dream. Dreams don’t usually make me feel guilty for wanting to stay, and somewhere in the last few days—and only cemented by the garden in bloom—I’ve thought about what it would be like to really be Aiden’s wife. If he wanted me, and if I could let myself love the dark stranger who holds me like I’m precious while never making me feel like I have to stay while I sense how much he needs me to.

…I waited eighty years for you…

I close my eyes and blow out a rush of air in my next breath.

Daphne is probably furious.

No. Furious probably came later. First, she would have been worried. Anxious. Scared out of her freaking mine. She would’ve sent another message after the proof-of-life request went unanswered, then called when I didn’t respond. She would’ve hopped on a train, come all the way to New Jersey, and let herself in with the spare key after threatening to break it down loudly enough that Mr. Singh, my downstairs neighbor, came upstairs to help.

She would’ve found my phone on the floor beside the mirror. My bags packed for my camping trip, stowed in the trunk of the car still in the parking lot.

No sign of me anywhere.

The thought of that makes my stomach twist into knots I can’t unravel.

During the first few days of my stay, I tried asking Aiden how time passes here compared to the human world, but he doesn’t know exactly. Or Hades doesn’t know. Or neither of them wants to answer because they can see the panic taking hold inside of Willow before she gets to the reason why she can’t let it go.

Maybe I’ve been gone three days. Maybe it’s closer to how it feels: three months. Maybe it’s no time at all, and I haven’t gotten fired. I haven’t lost my housing and started a manhunt for the missing teacher who vanished into thin air… or through a mirror.

Most of all, maybe I haven’t left my poor cousin to wonder what the hell happened to the last of her family…

I press one palm against my chest as though that might settle the ache beneath it.

Daphne has always been the person who notices when I disappear.

Not literally. Until now, disappearing mostly meant ignoring messages, canceling plans, or hiding in my apartment because facing the world felt like trying to walk through wet cement. She never let me vanish completely. She showed up with food, sarcasm, and more concern than she was willing to admit until I was sunny, bubbly Willow again.

What does it say about me that I can picture her searching for me with pure Daphne determination and still look out over this impossible kingdom with something dangerously close to longing?

“You plannin’ to jump, Blossom?”

I turn.

Aiden stands in the open doorway behind me, one shoulder resting against the stone frame. He isn’t wearing his suit jacket today; or, at least, not once he came looking for me and can shed the mantle of Hades as easily as he can his outer layer. The sleeves of his shadow-black shirt are rolled to his elbows, revealing the dark wisps of shadow that spiral over his forearms; the ones that constantly appear even when he’s being Aiden and not just Hades. The top buttons hang open as though he started undressing, prepared to change into another identical, old-fashioned suit, and got distracted halfway through.

By me, probably.

He watches me constantly now.

Not in the suffocating way I would have expected from a man who spent eighty years waiting for a dead wife to return. He watches like he still doesn’t trust his own eyes. Like he thinks I might disappear if he looks away too long.

I know he hates having to leave me to go tend to his duties as the Lord of the Underworld. Persephone tells me that, once I accept that I’m his queen, I’ll be expected to take my place on the second throne in the megaron and help him rule. For now, while I’m insistent on eating the ambrosia and nothing else… while I act as though I could leave tomorrow even if the magic refuses to let me… my domain is the rest of the palace and the grounds around it, not the space where Hades makes damning decisions for the dead.

I shake my head. “No.”

His gaze drops to my sandals, then shifts toward the railing I’m leaning against. “You sure?”

I nod.

“Good.” He pushes away from the doorway. “‘Cause it’s a long way down, and I’d have to go after you.”

“You can fly?” Hang on. “Can I fly?”