Page 187 of Gates of Tartarus

Maddox makes a noise of surprise, a sharp inhale that seems to take in all the air in the room. “Haveyou?” he asks, hope and sadness fighting in his voice.

I can just see the corner of Seef’s lips curling up in a sort of smug satisfaction, though his tone holds a hint of wonder. “I... have considered. There are more elements at play here than you know, though.”

Maddox finally turns back around, and his face is tight, like the skin has been stretched across it, glacial eyes almost white, shards of ice. It looks like he’s steeling himself to do something, though his voice and movements are casual. Reaching over, he very carefully, very gently, folds up Seef’s sleeve where the prosthetic would normally go. Movements beyond precise, Maddox has laser focus, making sure each fold, each crease, is perfect, before he pins it in place.

Still staring at it, not moving now, he looks like he’s using everything within him to keep from coming apart at the seams. “I… Things could have been different for you, if…” Sighing, his breath carrying a sadness so heavy it fills the room, he shakes his head, and, voice cracking slightly, says, “I’m so sorry, Seef. I can’t tell you…”

Seef makes a sharp sound, commanding silence. He reaches out and puts his hand on Maddox’s shoulder, looks at his face, then pulls him into a tight hug, ruffling the Viking’s hair like an older brother.

“Enough, Maddox. Enough. You’ve carried this for too long, and it’s time you let it go. There never was anything to forgive, never. I wish you could understand that. There’s no way you could have predicted what would happen, and we all bear the scars of battle. Mine are just more visible. But you asked for my forgiveness, and I gave it. I give it freely today, and I’d give it again tomorrow. But I can’t find a way to make you forgive yourself, and life is beginning to pass you by. You have a chance at happiness now. I can see it. Can’t you finally forgive yourself and leave all this behind?”

I can’t see Maddox’s face, just the shaking of his shoulders, and I want to leave now, desperately want to leave, because I’m seeing something that isn’t mine; but I’m caught in the moment.

“I don’t know how, Seef. I don’t know how. How did you... how did you move beyond where you were... before... enough to look at your woman and see possibility instead of defeat?”

Your… your woman? I catch my breath in wonder, feeling something new and tender stirring, fragile buds, green with possibilities, unfurling.

Seef smiles, still hugging his friend against him. “Well, mybru, I don’t know. She made me, I guess.”

“That little thing?” The surprise in his voice is clear, and Seef laughs in reply.

“That little thing is more scorpion than mouse, my friend.” He flexes his arm slightly, and Maddox pulls back, surreptitiously rubbing his eyes.

I emit a little puff of air and smile broadly, biting my bottom lip and blinking. Seef… Seef thinks I’m a scorpion. Ascorpion.A scorpion princess. I bustle proudly and wipe my own eyes.

“Youdolove scorpions,” Maddox says, tapping the top of Seef’s arm and making him grin.

“Ido,” Seef confirms, then his face grows serious. “It wasn’t this, Maddox.” Seef looks pointedly at his missing limb. “I had planted in poor soil, where nothing true would ever grow. I’ve come to realize that. After all, even a thorn-tree needs some rain.” My lips part on a breathless sigh; I never suspected Seef had such poetry in him.

“And now?”

Seef laughs, a short bark of a sound. “And now? What I feel? What I know? A hurricane couldn’t uproot it. It is... unnerving. But there’s more here to consider.”

Maddox rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably and looks more boy than man in the moment. “Mine too. Can you – I need to depend on you to keep this quiet. In the vault.”

“In the vault,” Seef agrees, and they do a strange little practiced movement, tapping fists then hearts. Both look incredibly serious.

“She, ah... you can’t judge her harshly if I tell you. There’s so much more to it, but…”

Seef looks incredibly curious, leaning forward, and Maddox continues. “She’s dating... the team. Like, the entire team.” The last words come out in a rush, and Maddox looks like he’s prepared for what is about to come, as though he’s gearing up for a battle, and my mouth drops open again.

Seef, though, lights up. There’s no other way to describe it. And then he grins at Maddox, before the grin turns into his rare, beautiful laughter, filling the room, pushing out all of the dark from the moments before. “Well, my friend,” he says, voice gleeful. “Well. We are the same shadow indeed. When you care for extraordinary women, there will be extraordinary circumstances, no?”

Maddox looks confused, and Seef continues. “Look at us, my brother.” They turn to face the mirror together, so different and yet so similar, standing shoulder to shoulder. “Look at us,” Seef repeats. “We are still warriors, still comrades in arms, and we must battle our own demons now, or the Peace that we have been promised will never come.”

Maddox is silent and then, just above silence, whispers, “I may need help, Seef.”

In the same breath Seef nods and replies, “I, also, my friend. As you saved me that day, covering me, carrying me out with your broken body, I also need help. We shall be each other’s shield and buckler, the pommel and the blade, the bullet and the gun. Yes? And we will find a way. Together.”

“Yousavedme,” Maddox replies, and Seef shakes his head.

“Well then, you obstinate ox. We will just keep saving each other, yes? That is what brothers do.”

Quietly, I back away, then flee down the hall…

???

“Showtime,” I whisper to my reflection in the full-length, Venetian-glass mirror. The suite at the hotel is dazzling. I think my old apartment could comfortably fit inside the living room alone, an opulent space painted eggshell blue with a delicate, crystal chandelier; pale-yellow, silk-covered armchairs and low-backed sofas, with matching drapes lining the arched windows; and an Oriental rug in the same colors, in a floral pattern, covering the hardwood floor. The bedroom, with a four-poster bed that makes my heart sing, is lined floor to ceiling with French-polished, walnut paneling, creating a warm and intimate atmosphere, made only more inviting by the fern-green, velvet Ottoman set before an antique dressing table. And the bathroom – oh my word, the bathroom! All mottled marble with a walk-in, rainforest shower and a sunken, oval tub. I think I spent the first half-hour just wandering from room to room, hesitantly touching the furnishings and trying not to gape. I know I had to muffle a gasp when Elizabeth’s limo dropped me off earlier in front of the stately, white-stone building, designed, so the driver told me, by Sir Edward Lutyens in 1924. Walking to reception, I felt horribly underdressed, even though I’d taken care with my appearance before leaving the house.

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