Bellanca stomps over, saving me from fracturing from Kato’s loss all over again.
The Tarvan ex-princess awkwardly pats my shoulder with a heavy, thudding hand, her eyes cruising over my white-black wings before meeting my gaze with frank annoyance. “I could punch you,” she says.
I circle her wrist with my fingers and squeeze, stopping her clumsy pounding. “I missed you, too.” Some of the time. I ignore any lingering feelings of betrayal. Her time with Griffin was an illusion, a lie that was neither of their faults.
She scowls. “It’s been almost a month. You scared everyone. Your husband’s a mess.”
I huff, smiling faintly. Trust Bellanca to tell it like it is. I have a feeling I can thank her for holding a lot of things together while I was gone. She’s a rock. A blunt, hard, strong-as-granite rock.
I let go of her wrist. “Thank you for being here.”
She looks shocked at first but then shrugs, as if whatever she’s been doing is nothing at all. Briefly, I wonder where her sister is. Little Lystra. Probably still hiding in her room.
I look up at Griffin again. He hasn’t moved. Our eyes meet, and as anxious as I am to wrap my arms around him and kiss him until I can’t breathe, we’ll both have to wait.
Among us, there’s only one person who has truly lost her anchor. I’m going to give her a new one, different, but desperately in need of someone right now. And I know for a fact he weighs a ton.
“This is Prometheus,” I announce.
Everyone gasps—the family, Beta Team, the guards. Since stealing fire from Mount Olympus and giving it to mankind was kind of a big deal for humanity, thus birthing Fire Magic as well, the old legend of Prometheus and his gory punishment at the hands of Zeus is one that people actually still talk about, hear, and share.
“Prometheus”—I gesture widely, encompassing all the people for whom I care so deeply—“this is my family.”
The Titan, an ancient God, looks carefully at the men and women he saw me embrace, and I know he’s memorizing the faces of the people he’ll watch over for generations, them and their sons and daughters beyond. He’s been tortured for eons. His brethren are all in Tartarus, either tormented or horrifically bored. All separated. Just memories in his sea of endless pain. His past. Ahead of him, he has an infinite expanse of life, a new home, and no purpose—except for us.
“Kaia, I need you to bring Prometheus to the bathhouse. While he’s bathing, oversee preparations for a room in the family wing and make sure there’s food.” The big Titan’s stomach growls for the first time in millennia at the mention of a meal. “Lots of food. And find him new clothes.” He only has a scrap of a bottom, and that’s bloodstained and worn. Finding something big enough might be a challenge, though. Even one of Griffin’s or Flynn’s tunics would probably split right down the back the second he moved.
Kaia nods, her blue-gray eyes less vague and shattered now that she has something to do. Her quiet voice is still noticeably rough, though. “I’ll have some things made up as soon as possible. I know who to ask.”
“It might not be easy for Prometheus to adjust to life here, with us, to being with people again. Can you help him with that?” I ask.
Kaia nods again, but she’s not the only one. All my friends and family will help.
Prometheus may look like a solid mountain of a male, and I have no doubt he can snap heads with one hand if he wants to—and I’m kind of counting on it, to be honest—but after what he’s been through, there are bound to be layers of fragility underneath.
“I left my tutor behind just when he was getting to the War of Gods. Maybe you can tell me what happened?” Kaia’s voice gains in strength, and she looks hopefully at Prometheus now.
It’s Prometheus who nods this time, gravely. I wonder if he, like me, sees in Kaia both the gentle hand he needs right now and the irrepressible spirit that’s going to help his gray-seeing eyes adapt to the brightness of our world.
*
A few flaps of my wings bring me up to Griffin, and I can’t believe I managed to take care of Prometheus first. I fly through the window and plow into my husband, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. He stumbles back, catching me and holding on tight.
“Oh Gods, oh Gods.” His ragged exhale breaks over my neck as he clamps me hard against his chest. “I was afraid it wasn’t real. That you weren’t—” His words falter. Griffin breathes hard and fast, a staccato, manly sort of utter breakdown I feel both against my skin and deep inside. “You’re real. My Gods, Cat, you’re real.”
I find his mouth and crush his lips under mine. I want to get closer still. I want him to be all I can feel.
He kisses me back, but it’s through a broken sound that’s both of ours. With each touch and breath and brush of lips, we put each other back together again from the soul out. In Griffin’s arms, I finally feel whole again.
I clasp his face in my hands. His eyes open, two bright, magnetic storms in the predawn light.
“I will always come back to you.” I repeat the vow I’ve made to him before. Magic roars to life in my veins, sealing the pledge all over again and making me realize it held no weight in Tartarus. I welcome the jolt from the binding promise. Griffin is my glue. And despite my dark edges, I’m his light.
Griffin sets me down, and his hands rise to cup the sides of my head. His grip isn’t too hard, but his touch isn’t truly governed, either. It trembles. “Your hair is short.”
“The God Bolt fried most of it off.”
“I was so scared.”
A spasm jerks my chest. “I’m all right.”
“And Little Bean?” he asks hoarsely.
I take his hand and place it low on my belly. I send my life force swirling around her, and Little Bean thumps outward in return. Griffin’s eyes widen and then glisten in the low light. His smile is like the sun breaking over a hard winter frost—joyous and blinding.
Despite his obvious happiness and relief, his voice stays low and raw, his emotions riding every word. “Where were you? Where did you go?”
“Tartarus.”
Shock wipes his face blank. He pales. “Oh my Gods! Are you all right?”
“Yes.” I lift both hands to his chest, trying to reassure him, or at least comfort him. “It wasn’t, you know…fun.” And I doubt I’ll ever tell him more than a very abridged version of what happened to me there. I don’t need to hurt him with all the things that hurt me. “I broke Prometheus out.”
Griffin glances toward the window, although we can’t see down into the courtyard from where we now stand. He looks back at me, his expression tight with worry. “Zeus won’t be angry?”
After everything Zeus has pulled, I don’t really care. I don’t say that out loud, though. I still have some sense of self-preservation in me.