by Aimee Carter
We waited for the others to arrive, and they did, one by one. Some of them were bloodied, and others walked away without a scratch. Persephone returned on Dylan’s arm looking no worse for the wear. But Ella—
She and Theo appeared together toward the edge of the circle. She was lying on the f loor, trembling and the color of chalk as a pool of blood spread around her, and I went numb. Her left arm was gone. Theo’s hands were on either side of her head, and his brow furrowed as he stared into her eyes. Even when the others gathered around him, he didn’t look away. I pressed my face into Henry’s chest, unable to watch.
“Did Calliope hurt you?” said Henry quietly so only I could hear him, and I nodded. It wasn’t physical pain, but I understood now what he meant.
“It’s gone now,” I lied. The mental fog had disappeared with her and Cronus, but an ache remained where that f iery heat had slithered through me. “I’m okay.” Henry fell silent, and I consoled myself with the fact that telling the truth wouldn’t make any difference. There was nothing he could do about it, not when Theo was busy with Ella, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. It didn’t matter what Calliope had done to me. Whatever it was, I was alive and in one piece.
“The council will reconvene in f ive minutes,” said Walter. “Theo, take Ella to her room and tend to her there. I already know your decision.”
Theo didn’t acknowledge him, but in the blink of an eye, he and Ella were gone, leaving the marble f loor stained scarlet. Dead silence f illed the throne room until my mother rose, and with a wave of her hand, the blood vanished.
If only it was that simple. Maybe then I could pretend that we weren’t all plunging face-f irst into the beginning of a brutal war.
This time, Henry didn’t touch me.
As Walter stood to address what remained of the council, I left my hand on the armrest of my throne in case he wanted to take it, but his remained at his side. He’d barely looked at me since I’d conf irmed that Calliope had done something to me, and I struggled not to blurt out the whole truth of it. There was nothing he could do to f ix it anyway, and as long as I still loved Henry, it didn’t matter what else she did to me.
“We will continue to f ight Cronus,” said Walter, and Henry averted his eyes from his brother. “It will not be easy, and after what happened today, I will not order any of you to help. If you do not feel ready or willing to risk yourselves for this cause, you may leave, and no one will think any less of you for it.”
I was certain that with how close-knit the council was, no one would back down. So when Dylan and Xander stood, I stared at them, shocked. They both acknowledged the council with a nod, and Dylan led the way out of the throne room. I knew he thought it was a losing battle, but I had never expected him or anyone else to abandon the rest of the council.
Neither had the others, it seemed. With Theo and Ella also missing, only ten of us remained, and I was sure Persephone had no intention of sticking around for the f ight. If Henry insisted I couldn’t take part again, then the number dropped to eight.
“Very well,” said Walter. “The trap we have constructed will last us until the next winter solstice, and it is my intention between now and then that—”
“Brother,” said Henry. “If I may.”
“By all means,” said Walter, and Henry stood stiff ly.
“Sisters and brothers,” he said, focusing on the pillars behind the pews instead of on the other members of the council. “I regret to say that I have decided to withdraw from the war, as well.”
My mouth fell open, and a murmur rippled through the remaining council members. Ava, who looked like a child curled up in her massive throne made of seashells, began to cry.
Walter shifted his weight, as if he were about to step forward, but at the last minute changed his mind. “We are counting on you,” he said slowly. “Together, with some time, we have a chance, but without you—”
“The Underworld is my realm, not the world above.
I will seal it off and ensure that Cronus remains trapped until the winter solstice, but I have made my decision,” said Henry. “I ask that you all understand it was not made lightly.”
My mother stood, and she had the same look on her face that she’d worn when I’d decided to color my hair purple at eleven and get a tattoo when I was fourteen. Neither of those things had happened. “Henry, we are all frightened of the risks, but if you refuse to help us, we will lose. Surely you know that. The blood Cronus has already spilled—”
“It is a shame, and those of you who are injured have my deepest sympathies,” said Henry. “You of all people should understand why I am doing this, Diana. Kate is Calliope’s target, and you cannot deny that it is a miracle nothing happened to her today. I have already failed her twice, and I will not allow for a third time.”
I was on my feet before I realized what I was doing, the ache of my guilt and grief swiftly replaced by fury. “Don’t you dare use me as an excuse to abandon your family. Calliope will come after me whether you f ight with them or not. I won’t stand by and let you do nothing just so everyone can blame me when the council loses.”
“No one would blame you, my dear,” said Walter.
“Henry, without you, loss is inevitable. There is no one else capable of stopping Cronus, and if Calliope does not see the error of her ways within the year—”
“I am sorry,” said Henry. “I will not change my mind.
You are not an excuse, Kate. If I step aside and seal the Underworld, no matter the outcome of the war, I will be able to keep you safe while continuing my duties and watching over the dead.”
“Why can’t you f ight anyway?” I said. “Everyone’s going to die if you don’t.”
“Everyone may die if I do,” he said. “I will not risk your life. We have already seen the lengths Calliope will go to destroy you, and with Cronus’s interest in you, it is far too dangerous.”
Before I could sputter out a retort, Persephone stood.
“What about the other Titans? If Henry—”
“What other Titans?” I said, my heart pounding.
Persephone gave me a look. “Would you let me f inish?
If Henry doesn’t want to help, then f ine. There’s obviously nothing any of us can say to change his mind.” Her eyes f lashed as she glared at Walter. “Father said no one would be judged for backing out. And before you throw a f it, Kate, we aren’t the only ones who can f ight him. Not all of the other Titans were imprisoned. If we’re lucky, the ones who weren’t might be willing to help us.”
“The chances of the other Titans agreeing to f ight on our side after we usurped them are inf initesimal,” said Walter, his expression hardening. “Nor would it be wise for us to risk giving Cronus allies.”
“Isn’t it worth a shot?” said Persephone.
“Rhea might help us,” said James, who’d remained quiet up until now. “I know where she is.”
“We do not have the time to court her,” said Walter. “We must prepare, and convincing her to go against her mate will undoubtedly take time—”
“Then let me do it,” I said, sounding much braver than I felt. “I want to do something.”
“Kate—” said Henry, but I cut him off.
“Don’t. You made your decision, now let me make mine.
If you’re not going to participate, then we need to f ind someone else who will.”
“Henry is right,” said Walter. “You have had no experience with the Titans before. You are new to this life, and one wrong word—”
“Then send someone with me.”
“We cannot spare anyone,” said Walter tightly. “If you wish to go—”
“You can spare me.”
Ava spoke softly and without conviction, but her voice rose above Walter’s, and he paused. As they exchanged looks, something seemed to pass between them.
“Very well,” said Walter, and hope f luttered within me.
Finally I wouldn’t be useless. Even if Rhea didn
’t want to help, I would at least have the chance to try to make up for Henry withdrawing because of me. I couldn’t sit around and not do a damn thing when no matter what anyone else said, I knew their loss would be my fault.
A shadow passed over Henry, darkening the lines in his face until he was nearly unrecognizable. “Kate, please.
Whatever concerns you have about taking the blame for this, how do you think I would feel if you did this because I withdrew and the worst happened to you?” Something snapped inside of me. Of all the things he could use against me, this was the route he chose? “That’s the problem, Henry. I don’t know how you feel about me.
Everyone else seems to have an opinion about it, but the only person I want to hear from is you. You won’t tell me though no matter how much I beg—all you do is risk the lives of everyone I love to keep me safe. How do you think that makes me feel?”
For a moment, he looked bewildered, but he quickly masked it with a neutral expression. “Before I met you, I was ready to fade. If something were to happen to you, my wishes have not changed.”
At f irst I thought I’d heard him wrong. He’d manipulated me before—the entire council had—but he’d never used his life against me. That was a line I thought he wouldn’t dare cross. Apparently I’d been wrong.
“Forgive me for not being worried,” I said, my words dripping with sarcasm as every small step we’d taken in the past few weeks crumbled. “Now that Persephone’s back in your life, I’d imagine you’ll want to stick around as long as there’s a chance she’ll kiss you again.” Henry stilled, and behind me I heard my mother hiss,
“Again? Persephone! ”
That painful knot in my chest returned. “I know I’m not her and that I never will be, but you know what, Henry?
That’s a good thing, because unlike her, I’m not going to betray you. I’m not going to fall in love with someone else and decide you’re not worth it, because you’re it for me.
As long as you want me here, I’ll stay, but no matter how much I love you, I will not let you manipulate me like this.
It isn’t fair to me, it isn’t fair to this council, and you have to stop it before it destroys us completely. Be as miserable as you’d like. You want to make out with her even though she doesn’t love you? Even though you haven’t so much as kissed me good-night since I arrived? Fine. Avoid me for years—hell, avoid me for eons. But don’t you dare try to stop me from doing what little I can to help prevent the world from crumbling.”
While Henry stared at me, his mouth slightly open, I turned to Walter. Henry didn’t get a say in what I did this time. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to get ready. The sooner we have another Titan on our side, the better chance we have at winning.”
Walter nodded once, and I stepped from the platform and walked through the circle, focusing straight ahead. I wouldn’t let any of them see me break down.
No one followed me through the pillars and into the antechamber. Once I closed the door, I leaned against it and shut my eyes, struggling to calm my racing heart. I’d done the right thing. Henry had left me with no other choice, and even if he pulled away now, at least it would be in earnest and not because he thought I didn’t love him.
The door behind me opened, and I stumbled. Persephone slid into the room and quickly shut the door, and in those few seconds, I heard several members of the council shout-ing at one another.
“Well, you certainly know how to make an exit,” said Persephone wryly, but her smirk dropped. “I’m sorry for what you saw. I had no idea.”
As if me being oblivious would have made it any better.
“It doesn’t matter,” I mumbled, all the f ight draining out of me. “I know why you did it.”
“Do you?” She sat on one of the benches and gestured for me to join her. I perched on the other end, as far away from her as I could get. “I know how he feels about me.
It’s never been any secret, and no matter how strongly I discouraged him, it kept growing stronger. That was one of the reasons I decided to give up my immortality,” she added. “Because I knew eventually it would get to the point where he wouldn’t be able to take it anymore, and I’d hurt him enough as it was.”
As pretty a story as it was, I didn’t believe her. Persephone was nothing if not self ish. Maybe not as much as I’d initially thought, but I’d seen enough to know that my f irst impres-sions weren’t completely wrong.
“You’re doing the right thing,” she said, echoing my self-assurances. “I understand why Henry’s withdrawing from the f ight, but he’s doing it for the wrong reasons.”
“You mean trying to keep me alive isn’t a good enough reason?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean,” she said, and I grimaced. There was no point in arguing though. She was right. “Like it or not, you’re just one person. Cronus will rip the entire world apart if he escapes the island.”
“You don’t think I know that?” I snapped. “If I could hand myself over and stop this entire thing, I would, but I can’t, because Calliope wants them all dead now. I don’t need you rubbing my nose in it.”
Persephone sighed. “Sorry. Seems I can’t say anything right, can I?”
That could easily be solved if she stopped treating me like I didn’t know anything. I didn’t, but there was no reason for her to be so offensive about it.
“Anyway,” said Persephone after a few seconds passed in silence. “That’s what I wanted to make sure of—that you knew why I kissed him. I’m sorry.”
I stared at my hands. I would have rather chewed off my thumbs than have this conversation. “I’m not mad at you for kissing him. I’m mad at Henry for wanting it.”
“You knew before it happened that he would,” she said.
“So did I. But you know what? He didn’t enjoy it.” I gave her a wary look. “What do you mean?”
“So you didn’t hear that part after all,” she said with a trace of smugness. “I thought so. You wouldn’t have freaked out if you had.”
I scowled. It was hard enough being civil to her without her acting like this. “Just tell me already, would you?” She rolled her eyes. “That temper will get you into trouble someday. I asked Henry if it was as good as he’d expected, and he admitted it wasn’t. It took him a while, but I think he understands that what we had was never real.” I said nothing. Even if I was wrong, that wouldn’t change how he’d treated me the past few months. It wouldn’t change how much he’d wanted to kiss her in the f irst place.
Persephone tugged on a blond curl, and when she let it go, it sprang back into a perfect spiral. She’d probably never had a bad hair day in her life. “Our whole relationship was my fault for being too young and scared. I wasn’t ready for marriage, and I knew that before I married him. The right thing would’ve been to put it off for a hundred years and get to know him f irst. If I’d done that, there’s no telling what might have happened. But I didn’t wait, and we both paid the price.”
“Henry more than you,” I mumbled.
“Henry more than me,” she agreed. “I’ve had to carry around that guilt for my entire afterlife. Ever since I left him, I’ve hoped someone would come along and give him another chance. Someone like you,” she said, poking my arm. I shied away from her touch, and she dropped her hand into her lap. “Just because it didn’t work out between us doesn’t mean I don’t love him. Not the way he wants me to, but I still care about what happens to him. I’m glad he found you. I’m glad Mother decided to try again for a daughter she could f inally be proud of.” In that moment, some of my animosity toward Persephone melted, and I tentatively reached out to her. As hard as it was for me to bear the pressure of living up to my mother’s expectations, I’d never considered how diff icult it had been for Persephone to go against them in the f irst place. “She’s proud of you. She said so herself. And—she knows you deserved a chance to be happy. I know that, too,” I added. “I just wish Henry could look at me the way he looks at you.”
P
ersephone wrapped her f ingers around mine. “You should be glad he doesn’t. When he looks at me, he hurts.
But when he sees you…” She smiled faintly. “He has hope.
I’m not surprised you don’t notice it. It took me a while to read him, too. I spent thousands of years with him though, and I know that look. I saw it the day we got married. You don’t forget the f irst time someone looks at you like that.” I bit my lip. I wanted to believe her. Badly. She did know Henry; she gained nothing by lying to me, and if there was any chance she was being honest, I had to take it. “How do I do this? How do I get him to love me?”
“Just be you.” Persephone patted my hand and stood. “It won’t take him long to see what he has. I’m going to go.”
“All right.” I pushed my hair behind my ears. “I’ll probably see you before I leave.”
“You won’t.” She smiled brief ly, and in that moment, she looked so much like our mother that I did a double take.
“I’m leaving as soon as the meeting’s over. I’ve stayed here long enough, and as fun as it’s been battling Cronus, I miss Adonis. I’ll be back if they need me,” she added. “Until then, I’m going home.”
“Oh.” Relief washed over me, followed immediately by guilt. As terrible as things had been in the beginning and as much as I wanted to hate her for what she’d done with Henry, she was trying. And she was still my sister. “Thank you. For everything.”
“Anytime.” She set her hand on the door, but before she opened it, she hesitated. “You can come visit me, if you want. I’d like that. I’ve never had a real sister before, and it’d be nice to get to know you. As much as I love Adonis, sometimes he can be a little…monotonous.” I managed a small smile. Somehow that didn’t surprise me. “I’d like that, too. I’m sorry I barged in on you and disrupted your afterlife like that.”
“I’m not.” She winked and disappeared back into the throne room.
The door swung shut, muff ling the council’s bickering once more. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about Persephone, but at least now we would have the chance to get to know each other on our own terms. If I survived.
