Series: Willow Winters
Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 94417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
I do not know if I should fix it.
There is a darkness I innately wish to fight against and he embodies that. At the same time … I am drawn to it but fearful. What plagues me now? Another spell that drains me?
For a few moments, I consider returning to him. To speak freely and demand his attention. I do believe he would assert that darkness against me. That he would listen to me if only to hear me speak to him. There is a power I know I have over him. I do not even know why I stand so against him in that moment. I am tormented myself.
But more screams echo into the hallway. The whip cracks down against a soul’s flesh. The man—the soul—whoever it is lets out an anguished sound, and I picture Hades’s face. There was something raw in his expression. Something I had not seen before. Something painful in his words as well.
If I press him, will I learn more, or will he push me away? Sure that it would be the latter, I do not go back in. It feels like a delicate balance. One move could ruin everything and I lack this knowledge of what is to come.
With haste and tears in my eyes, I go back to his bedchambers, rather than walking on the path, and pace around in a circle on the rug. The debate in my mind circles with me. I saw something about him that I had not known was there.
I wish to see it grow although it torments me and some parts of me stand against it. I wish to see it rise out of the grounds of Hades’s realms and bloom. What shape would it take if it did? I shake my head, trying to settle my thoughts. It is strange to think of him as someone with secrets that could grow and change. He has seemed to be solid and unchanging. Uncompromising.
I pace around the rug some more, then force myself to stand still and breathe deeply.
I’m still standing there when a single footstep in the hall catches my full attention. A warmth runs through me but then a chilling cold. I turn toward it, moving without thinking.
Hades is at the threshold. He stops, studying the bells I enchanted, then brushes a finger across them. The chime they make is light and welcoming—so unlike the rough, almost anguished tone of his voice when I found him at his work.
He lowers his hand slowly and meets my eyes. “Your magic, my queen?”
I swallow a sudden lump in my throat and nod. Dried blood is splashed against the cream vestment under his black robe. I imagine the robe itself is also disturbed in such ways.
Hades nods in acknowledgement. For a moment, the quiet between us is charged with possibility.
“It pleases me,” he says finally, then enters, closing the door behind him. Hades goes through to the bathroom and shuts that door as well. Softly, the water runs and I take it that he’s washing away what happened. Although I don’t believe I can do so easily.
As soon as he is out of sight, I move, my heart fluttering and my hands shaking. I’m sure now that I am in the wrong. Something I said in that room, or something I did—perhaps even something he saw in my eyes—it was not what I should have done. My blood singes with a feeling of betrayal and guilt.
I’ve been filled with fear and anger, and lately with all Silvie could tell me about magic, and there is something I have missed.
Or something that Hades has kept from me. Something I did not know how to ask about. The conversation we had brought it to the surface in a way I have not seen before.
My nerves force my hands to tremble when the running water is silenced.
And wasn’t Silvie right? I have found power here. Look at the enchantments on the bells. I have found respect here, too. I am not confined to a cage, but may look upon Hades’s realms. I may speak to the souls there.
I do not need to keep anything hidden, unlike in Olympus.
This is a seemingly simple thing, but it hits me like a great gust of wind or a bolt of lightning. I might have been able to convince myself that I hid nothing on Olympus, but what I kept hidden was the most important thing—the failure of my powers. I prayed in secret over those. I did not go to my mother in transparency, I went in desperation and still refrained from truthfulness. I spent hours trying to force my powers to obey my commands out of sight of anyone. The only person I confided in was Beatrice.
I did not walk the paths there, greeting those I met with a nod and a smile. I hurried from place to place, thinking only of my magic and how I would stop it from fading completely, or how I would get it back.