Page 50 of Love and Death
I follow her motion and blink in surprise to find myself clean once again. “How …”
“Magic, my dear, how else do you think I maintain my presence amidst an ever-changing landscape,” she says with a gentle smile. “Come, let me take you to your father.”
Grabbing my hand, she turns to lead me through the moor, the path slowly revealing itself to us with each step she takes. I don’t quite know what to make of her kindness when, just a day or so ago, I thought she’d prefer never to lay eyes on me again.
“Persephone, are you sure this is a good idea?” Cerberus says, having at some point stepped silently into place behind me, the low rumble of his voice sending chills racing down my spine.
“I believe we are long past worrying whether or not an idea is good,” she answers. “All we can do now is try.”
“Hmph.”
I can’t tell if he agrees with her or not, but either way, we continue on without further argument.
The path twists and turns its way through the mire, making our progress slow and each new step altogether impossible for me to guess. I strain to make out more of the figure’s features as we finally begin to draw closer, but it isn’t until we’re nearly upon him that the fog clears enough to allow me to make out his face.
My breath catches in my throat, my feet slowing to a stop as my stomach knots within me.
I wasn’t deceived into coming here, but now I almost wish I had been.
Before me, half-swallowed by moss and overgrown vines—is my father.
But I see now what Cerberus meant.
He’s barely recognizable.
I don’t register the tears until they’re already streaming down my cheeks. I should go to him, but I am rooted in place by shock.
All I can do is stare. Stare at the swollen shape of his face, his eyes crusted shut with blood, his nose broken beneath bruised skin. Jagged, angry lines have been etched into his skin wherever it is visible, leaving his clothes bloodied, tattered, and torn.
If not for the shallow rise and fall of his chest, I’d believe he was already dead.
“What have they done to you?”
I move to push past Persephone, but Cerberus grabs my arm and pulls me back before I can.
“Hazel, stop!”
“Let me go! He needs me!”
“No, not yet.” His voice is gruff as he spins me around to face him, grasping both of my arms to keep me firmly in place. “Little lamb, I need you to listen to me.”
“Whatever it is can wait. My father needs m—”
“No, it cannot,” Cerberus says with a low growl of warning, giving me a gentle shake. “I know this will be hard for you to hear, but there is something you need tounderstand. Your father—the man you knew him as before—is not there.”
I give him an incredulous look before glancing over my shoulder at the figure lain across the moss. Despite his broken state, I would recognize my father anywhere.
“I don’t know what game you’re trying to play,” I say coldly, turning back to Cerberus, “but I would recognize my father anywhere—”
“I never said otherwise.”
“Then what are you saying!”
“Hazel, please,” the queen implores, “you must try tolisten.”
The air fills with an intoxicating, floral scent, and a sudden sense of calm settles over me.
“Is that really necessary—”
