86

86

Show Me Who You Are

I say what I have to say, then stay on the rooftop while the other champions return to Olympus. After they’ve gone, I drop to sit on one of the comfy couches and draw my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them and staring sightlessly out over Erebos.

A shiver steals up my spine.

Not because of the breeze that ruffles my hair. It’s perfect here. But because I don’t know if I just handed my enemies a weapon against me…or not.

I gave them until tomorrow to think about my proposal.

“How did they take it?”

I jump a little at Hades’ voice but don’t turn my head. “Hard to say.”

He comes around to sit on the cushioned ottoman facing me, with his elbows propped on his knees. “You told them that I would swear on the River Styx to honor my part?”

I nod.

His part. This was all my idea, or the Daemones would be down here ripping him a new one.

He promised me that if I win and he is made the King of the Gods, he will make sure all those who’ve perished in the Crucible will be given a choice. They can either be given a home in Elysium or, if they choose, be brought back from the Underworld with Boone. This applies to Neve and Isabel, as well as Dae’s grandmother and anyone else who might die before this is all over.

If I win the next two Labors. If I make him king of the Overworld, too.

Being king of both will give him the power to cross souls between worlds.

“I know Dae’s other gift now,” I tell him. “He used it. That pendant on a chain around his neck is the Lantern of Diogenes.”

Hades is silent a moment, considering. “So they all know you were speaking the truth.”

“Yes.”

“Then they’d be fools not to take your offer.” He clasps his hands together. “All of them win this way.”

I shrug. “Mortals.”

Which makes his lips twitch. He’s been doing that more lately. Smiling. My heart lifts a little at the sight.

“What fools they be,” he murmurs. Shakespeare, I think. Not my best subject.

I prop my chin on my knees. “Gods aren’t much better.”

“You’ll get no argument from me.”

He lowers his gaze, staring at the floor, the streak through his hair falling over his forehead. I so want to brush it back, but that would be breaking one of our unspoken “we don’t do that” rules.

“I want to show you something.” He glances up, studying my face.

“Okay.”

He hums—not amused, more surprised—and shakes his head a little.

“What?”

“Just so…trusting.”

“I already told you I trust you. Why are you surprised?”

“I guess I’m not used to it from many people.” He straightens slowly, and something in his face turns cautious. Then he sort of shakes himself out of it and gets to his feet, offering me a hand. “Come on.”

I stare at that hand, warmth fluttering through my body to settle in my chest.

Touching. That breaks the unspoken rules.

He grunts impatiently, and I force myself to casually stand and put my hand in his. I try not to make a sound that gives away how good that single, simple point of contact feels.

A connection.

My vision and hearing blink out, only to blink back in faster than usual, and I find myself standing in a place even more beautiful than Erebos.

“Elysium,” I breathe. He doesn’t have to tell me. It’s that obvious.

This part of the Underworld is also called the Isle of the Blessed—the place reserved for the most deserving of souls—the heroic, the pure, the kind. The champions, now, hopefully, no matter when they die. Although a few of them would be…interesting additions.

This place is beyond time, beyond measure, and beyond any words someone like me could ever hope to craft. Even poets would struggle.

“Want to see more?” he asks.

“Is it okay?”

His eyes twinkle back at me. “Yes. I think you’ll find it interesting. Elysium is, for each soul, their perfect place.”

“How?”

“Because I allow it.” He’s all arrogant mystery again. “Here. I’ll show you.”

We’re suddenly standing on white beaches, looking out over crystal-blue waters, and there’s a home made of glass that stretches out into the ocean. Then we’re in a city. Paris, I think. It glows sort of pink in evening sunlight.

“Some see their homes from the Overworld. Some see the purest parts of what their imaginations can create.”

We leave Paris, and what greets my eyes next makes me laugh out loud in wonder. “Wow,” I whisper.

He grins, dimples in full view. And now I’m struggling to breathe right, because he’s entirely himself in this moment. Who he was meant to be—the King of the Underworld who truly feels for the souls under his care. That he’s letting me see him like this…

“It’s a recreation of the game Candy Land,” he says. “The little girl who lives here loves that game a lot.”

Still reeling a little and reluctant to glance away from the openness of his face, I force myself to look back out over the view. I didn’t get to play board games as a kid—chess or nothing for us pledges—but I’ve seen it. It was one of those things I imagined doing with friends someday, back when I still bothered to imagine such things. In this living version, I see the Peppermint Forest with what I’m guessing is Licorice Castle in the distance. “I bet the Gumdrop Pass is something.”

He nods.

“Can I see what it would be like for me?”

Hades sighs. “A mortal’s vision of their ideal place changes throughout the course of their lifetime. It is only solidified when their soul arrives in Elysium.”

“Oh.” It would have been nice to know. “Are you able to see what it could be if I died now?”

“Don’t—” His throat works around a swallow. “Don’t think about dying yet, hmmm?”

I offer a soothing smile. “I’m not planning to.”

“Good.”

“What about you?” I ask next. “Do you have a perfect place? I mean, being a god already and all.”

He looks out over the lands and shrugs. “I see many things.”

I’m not entirely sure that’s an answer.

I take a last, long look, then turn to him. “Why are you showing me this?”

“Because whether the champions accept the proposal or not, this will be their home at the end, regardless of if they die in the Crucible or in old mortal age. And I’ll make that true of every champion retroactively and moving forward. I promise you that much, Lyra. And…” He turns his head, looking out over Elysium, jaw clenching slightly. “If you don’t win either of the next two…I wanted you to see that Boone will be fine.”

Fine. He’ll be fine. More than fine. In his own version of paradise. So will the others.

“What about their loved ones?” I ask. “They shouldn’t be alone here.”

“I can arrange that, too.” Amusement filters through his voice.

“Can the souls here interact with one another?”

Hades sort of pauses. “Yes.”

“How, if they’re in their own versions of paradise?”

“If someone else has a similar or same paradise. There are whole families here together. Lovers, friends.”

But only if it’s the same paradise? So I might never see Boone’s face again, and he knows it. He knew it when he visited me as his spectral self.

“You and Persephone made this place as incredible as I’ve ever seen,” I say, still looking out. “And as lonely.” That tells me a lot about both of them.

Hades goes still beside me. Did I hurt his feelings? Offend him?

“What do you see?” I ask again.

His shoulders ease slightly. “Maybe I’ll show you one day.”

But not today. He doesn’t have to say it.

“Can we go back?” I ask.

“Of course.” Immediately, we blink away, and when we arrive at his home, we’re standing in the garden near one of the grottos. The small waterfall that hides the grotto fills the night with a soft gurgle. I’ve always loved the sound of running water.

I glance toward the lights of the house. Why’d he bring us here instead of there?

“I thought seeing Elysium would make you feel better.” He’s searching my face, or the side of it he can see.

“It does.” I may not get to see him ever again, but Boone will be okay either way. That makes it…easier. I frown. “What if Boone doesn’t want to leave there?”

It’s paradise, after all. And he’s more than just safe. He’s well cared for. Why would he want to return to our world—

“I asked him.”

“You…asked him.” Slowly pivoting, I stare at Hades. I know I’m parroting his words, but they don’t quite make sense.

Hades lets go of my fingers and shoves his hands in his pockets, and I can tell it’s supposed to be a casual move. It’s anything but. “When I brought him to you while you were sick, I asked him if he wanted to stay in Elysium or gain immortality as a god if that option became possible.”

He asked him. Hades asked Boone, who he doesn’t like very much, what he wanted. He offered to make him an immortal god if he wanted, if he could.

“Why did you ask?”

A shrug. “No soul should be forced into something they don’t want or didn’t earn. Especially if it has permanent consequences.” He glances away with a muttered, “After all this time, I learned that the hard way.”

Is he talking about…me?

I’m still hung up on the fact that he asked Boone at all.

He asked for me. And maybe it’s incredibly conceited to assume, and I’m sure the whole no-forcing-a-soul thing is also a reason, but he did this for me. Unlike his helping Samuel heal, this time I know that thought isn’t silly. I’m sure of it. He did this because I was hurting. And yet, he wanted to make sure that my selfish pain didn’t override what Boone would choose for himself.

Hades is still trying to play it casual, but I can see the way his hands are fisting in his pockets.

An earthquake of tenderness for this god shakes my very foundations.

Forget the unspoken “don’t”s. I’m about to break every single one of them.