His voice echoed. “No one expected the Princes of Darkness to visit the underworld anytime soon. I must say, I’m ecstatic. You’ve made your old man very happy.”
He walked toward John slowly, then threw his arms around my twin in a punishing hug. As they embraced, he nodded at me over his shoulder.
I nodded back, and he didn’t try to touch me.
I’d set my boundaries years prior, and the king respected them.
“We have a problem, Father,” John said softly as he was clapped on the back.
The king straightened.
His dark eyes flashed as he glanced around at the kneeling prisoners. “Not here. Let’s go to the castle and discuss.”
He grabbed our arms.
Glittering black power—a derivation of our own—wrapped around us, and we were transported into a white marble foyer. Servants bustled around, and the familiar scent of marble and olives hung heavy in the air.
The ceiling was arched and lined with colonnades.
Olive trees filled the corners of the room.
A stately woman swept into the room and shouted boisterously, “For once, the oracle was correct. My favorite nephews have returned. Blessed be the day.”
John smiled as she hugged him. “We’re your only nephews, so we better be the favorites.”
She pulled away and slapped me on the shoulder aggressively.
Our aunt was one of the queens who ruled Olympus and she’d never liked boundaries.
I pulled away, but the corners of my mouth lifted into a grin as she fussed over us like we were children.
“Nonsense. I’m sure someone has produced another child by now.” She winked, and the king shook his head at her antics.
The royal blood was renowned for being too powerful to procreate.
They’d lived too long.
Immortality was both a curse and penance.
Before our mother, no woman had been strong enough to bear a child of our family’s legacy. The embryos killed the mothers, and consequently themselves.
We were the king’s miracle children.
We were his secret.
“Hades, prepare their room,” the queen boomed authoritatively as she smacked John’s wide bicep and tsked. “They’re withering away. The boys clearly need to eat. They don’t look well.”
She snapped her fingers at the king.
“Yes, Athena,” the king said, then he grumbled under his breath about meddling women and went off to find a servant.
Aunt’s smile fell as he disappeared down the hall, and she turned to us. “Now that Hades is gone, tell me, boys. Honestly. What’s going on? You don’t look well, and I can feel your energy. It is disturbed.”
“We’re not sure.” I rubbed at my sternum. The emptiness was a tangible chasm.
Her frown deepened. “Now that you’re back at Olympus, we can figure this out.” She leaned forward and gave us both kisses on the cheek.
I withstood her touch because I knew she needed it.
With a dramatic flourish of her gown, she led us down the hall where the king had disappeared. Toward the kitchens.
Her heels clacked loudly across the white marble floors.
Servants ran out from the wings to polish the floor behind us as we walked, and I ignored the bustle of the palace like I always did.
“What have you boys done?” she asked, her eyes filling with fear. “I gave you the jewels because you said you were in love. Yet you come back appearing wan and depleted. Did she reject your advances?”
“She accepted,” John said, and his voice cracked like just thinking about Aran being realms away was killing him.
It made sense.
It was killing me.
“That’s not our problem. Something else has gone wrong,” I said as she led us deeper into the castle.
She stopped walking abruptly, and all three of us halted.
Her olive-toned skin leeched of color, and she looked like she’d seen a Minotaur. Her eyes were unfocused, and she grabbed at her emerald necklace. “I think I know what’s wrong,” she said cryptically. “It’s the enchanted jewels.”
John’s eyes widened.
Her fear was contagious.
“What do you mean?” I demanded as I pulled my twin behind me, a reflexive protective instinct I’d never grown out of. “What did you do?” I shouted, my skin crawling with worry.
Her head snapped in my direction. “It’s not what I’ve done—it’s what’s been done to her.”
Chapter 39
Aran
TWISTED BONDS
Oneiromancy (noun): divination by means of.
DAY 28, HOUR 6
I was trapped in the most insidious of nightmares—memories.
Three guards dragged me down the gilded halls toward the ornate cellar. Mother waited, tapping her foot with a frown on her face. I was fourteen years old, and we’d been playing this game for years.
You would think she’d have grown bored with it by now. Apparently, torturing your daughter never lost its appeal.
Mother’s blue eyes widened with excitement as the guards threw me to the ground. Knees and elbows smacked painfully against hard marble. I bit down on my lower lip and said nothing.
Lay still.
There were a few rules I’d learned during these nights.
If you were quiet, the torture didn’t last as long. If you acted repentant and weak, the torture didn’t last as long. If you bowed your head respectfully, the torture didn’t last as long.
The golden rule, never cry.
If I cried, then she’d light me on fire until dawn.
As a result, my eyes were perpetually bone dry, my heart was a shriveled hole inside my chest, and blue was my least favorite color.
My breath was unnaturally loud in my ears as dozens of guards watched from the perimeter of the room. They no longer stood in a small circle around me. They lined the large space and watched with blasé expressions.
A demoralizing tactic Mother loved to use.
She filled a room with guards to make it clear that I could never escape. You were outnumbered and trapped. It also added an element of shame that heightened the experience.
Mother was mad, but she was a great strategist.
Her voice echoed off the ornate walls as she said, “Your tutors have informed me that you glare and whisper petulantly under your breath. Have you forgotten your obedience lessons, daughter? A pathetic weakling like you has no right to address her betters—if you’d bother to show a little initiative and develop abilities, your behavior would be acceptable.” She shook her head. “The things I could do at your age. You can’t even imagine.”
Her condescending smile widened as she crouched down next to me.
White teeth gleamed.
The fine details of her eyelashes and pores of her skin came into focus as she leaned close.
A distant part of me knew this was a dream.
But it felt so real.
She crouched before me.
Her red lips pursed like she was sad, and she ran freezing fingers across my forehead, then she smiled.
The world exploded in blue flames.
For a split second, my senses were so overloaded with pain signals that I felt nothing.
Cobalt fire danced across my skin.
It was almost beautiful.
My neurons resumed firing, and I arched my back with such force it cracked loudly. I screamed silently as blue devoured every edge of my existence. There was no end and no beginning, only pain. Time stretched. Every second lasted an infinity.