“I’ll let you know,” I say bitterly. “If she lives long enough. Maybe I can even keep her alive past seventeen.”
The Goddess’s mouth turns down before she speaks again. “You’re too adept at focusing on the negative. Think about what Eleni gave you. She taught you goodness, compassion, laughter, and love. You were sorely in need of her influence, because I doubt your Thanos was teaching you any of that.”
“You’re wrong,” I shoot back. “He did.” He also taught me to fight to win, to see even when there’s blood in my eyes, to overcome the worst kinds of pain, and to never give up. Lessons that served me well—until today. Today was an epic example of all things not to do.
“Nevertheless, she was your light in the dark,” Persephone insists. “And she kept that spark of hope inside you alive, no matter what you went through.”
“Were put through…” Ares mutters.
I look back and forth between them, trying to understand, maybe even trying to accept what they’re saying instead of just railing against it. “So why take her from me? Why take my light? Wasn’t there some other path?” I’m desperate for a reason, anything to justify my loss. Maybe I’m even desperate for something to take the blame off my shoulders for something I always believed was my fault.
“Elpis, my dear, damaged Cat.” Suddenly, Persephone is Selena again, having reduced her physical body and Olympian radiance back to human proportions. She takes both my hands in hers and squeezes hard. There’s no nip of magic, and I don’t protest. I’m still angry, confused, and hurt, but I’m also stupid and needy enough to crave her maternal touch.
“Elpis?” I ask.
Persephone nods. “Could you have ever truly understood the primal, raw hope you carry inside you, that you give to others now, without having experienced suffering first? Without nearly unbearable loss and pain to overcome? How can you gauge joy without knowing despair? It’s the journey, Cat. The outcome. Certainly, you were special from the start, but you weren’t born with the inner strength of a thousand men or the wisdom to rule a kingdom. You’re building them, minute by minute, as you live each wonderful or terrible day of your life.”
A chill ripples over me. A wave of warmth chases it away. Her words resonate on a deep level, but I’m still not ready to let go of my resentment. Clearly, I’m not that strong yet, or that wise. “You let her die so I’d have suffering to overcome?”
“We didn’t intervene to save her,” Ares says gravely. “And her death saddened us greatly.”
Heat builds behind my eyes. “You should have chosen her. Why would anyone want me to rule Thalyria when Eleni could have done it? She was kinder. Brighter. More responsible. Gods…” I shake my head. “She was everyone’s light, not just mine.”
“You’re wrong.” Ares looks at me, his eyes flat with pressure. “You’re everything she was, and stronger still. Your light shines just as brightly, but to see it, you had to come out of her shadow first.”
I inhale sharply and then flex my hands, forcing away the urge to make them pay with my fists for what happened to my sister, these two who were supposed to protect me.
None of this is even remotely fair, especially to Eleni, but could they be right? Did her death somehow trigger light inside me instead of the darkness I’ve always thought? Is that where it comes from? Is that—
“Elpis.” Griffin unknowingly finishes my thought. He looks down at me, his eyes shining, his expression veering toward awestruck. “It’s not just an idea. It’s you.”
Persephone nods. “More or less. She’s grown into Elpis—with your help.”
“You mean…” I frown. I don’t know what she means. “It wasn’t in me from the start?”
“Hope is always there in everyone, to be crushed or nurtured, held close or abandoned. Elpis is the ancient, original spark from which all hope springs, and she only seeks out and attaches herself to the selfless warrior, the one who fights not for herself, but for others.”
My mouth opens. Closes. I have nothing to say.
“Ares taught you to fight, but you adapted that to your own moral code. Your guilt is enormous each time you’ve killed in self-defense, but you feel no particular remorse when you do whatever it takes, no matter how violent and extreme, to defend someone else.”
I snort, the sound raw. “I guess Elpis isn’t any smarter than I am. We’re sure to get each other killed. Or ourselves, since we’re apparently the same thing now.”
Ares’s blue-green eyes blaze with sudden inner brightness, and a shiver tracks down my arms, leaving the hair raised. When he speaks, though, his voice holds more gruff affection than anger.
“No one does everything alone, little monster. Not even the Gods. We have our wives or husbands, our lovers, our allies, our offspring. You had Eleni, but she wasn’t the person you needed for this part of your journey. When we put the weight of this world on your shoulders, we never expected you to heft it alone.”
My mind skips over the “weight of this world” thing like a rough bump in the road—something to fix later. “So you made Griffin for me.” Pressure bears down on my chest, the heaviness coming from a feeling of unease I can’t seem to get rid of, despite Griffin’s assurances. “The man the Origin couldn’t intimidate, dominate, or accidentally kill.” Those were Athena’s exact words. I’ll bet Griffin remembers them, too.
Ares folds his massive arms over his chest and looks sideways at Persephone. She’s more than a full head shorter than he is and not vibrating with magic now that she’s in her human form, although she’s still stunning, powerful, and otherworldly in her own way. She nods, indicating that he should go on.
Good Gods, they’re sharing.
“We knew you’d be headstrong,” he says.
Griffin snorts. I guess that’s putting it mildly.
“And powerful,” Ares continues. “And we knew what gifts you’d be likely to earn, and need, if you were to fulfill your destiny. The idea of a partner was formed. Like you, he’s physically a mix of his parents. His mind is his own. His loyalty, inner strength, and calm are both a product of his experiences and inherent to his nature, and a good match for your loyalty, inner strength, and…”
“Not calm,” I supply, narrowing my eyes.
“Exactly.” Ares nods. “But we decided on a vital improvement before we set everything into motion. The Goddesses came together and Aphrodite had a stroke of genius,” he says proudly. “Just like she never wanted a male she could control, she knew someone as strong as you were destined to be would never fall for a man you could overpower.”
My cheeks start to heat. In some situations, I definitely want Griffin to be the dominant one.
Persephone looks first at Griffin and then back at me. “But putting you in that vulnerable position also meant giving you someone you could trust.”
Of course I trust Griffin. More than anyone else.