Page 68 of Love and Death
I could cry.
I cannot yet make out the doors to Persephone’s chambers beyond, but this discovery is more than enough for a new wave of hope and adrenaline to begin coursing through my veins.
With all the willpower that I have left in me, I claw my way forward toward safety.
Toward rest.
By the time I touch solid ground, I’m shaking, soaked in fog and sweat, and half-mad with exhaustion, but I’ve done it.
Almost.
I turn to tug Eros up onto the earth, only to slip on the edge of the bank. I land hard on my side, the jolt dislodging one of the coins tucked into the top of my corset.
“No!”
I reach for it, but it’s already too late. The light glints, catching on the edge of my mother’s name, as it slips out of reach and into the depths. I can do nothing but watch as the golden coin, my mother’s coin, is swept out of sight by some unseen current.
Crestfallen over the loss, I sit back on my heels to secure the three remaining coins deeper within the corset garment before turning my attention back to Eros. Bit by bit, breath catching in my throat, I drag him out of the water until he’s safely settled on dry ground.
He’s still cold to the touch. Still entirely unaware of the danger we’re in, but at least he’s not lost to Persephone’s deadly moor.
I collapse beside him, my chest heaving as I allow myself just a few minutes of respite. I breathe deeply, sprawled across the grass, unwilling to move a muscle, but I do not close my eyes.
It would be too easy to rest. Too easy to fall asleep, and that is one comfort I cannot afford to give myself right now. However much it may be needed.
Sitting up, I finally turn toward the doors, and my stomach drops.
They’re hanging off their hinges, broken inward, and with all the signs of a struggle torn into the earth just inside the threshold.
19
HAZEL
Rest will have to wait.
Scrambling to my feet, I hurry to release Eros’ and myself from the makeshift harness, my fingers fumbling in my weariness. The silk fights me as I work to reposition it around my body, twisting, tucking, and re-pinning it until I can move freely without tripping over it. My work is sloppy at best, a far cry from Florence’s expert designs, but it’ll do.
My hand slips to Death’s dagger, nestled within the folds of the dress. I’d taken extra care to hide it, while still leaving it easily accessible to me … should I need it.
Now ready, I hesitate, glancing back at Eros.
Is it really wise to venture off in search of help and leave his body here unguarded?Especiallyif the dream I had was real.
Probably not, but I can see no other way.
I cannot drag him, let alone carry him from this room myself, and I do not wish to sit idly by as I wait and hopeto be rescued. I’ve done enough of that while locked away in Hades’ tower.
Double checking one last time to make sure Eros is as secure as possible, I finally turn toward the broken doors. I search the area, trying my best to disturb as little of the damaged ground as possible, but I find no evidence of who might have done this, or why.
Taking a deep breath, I step across the threshold to peer out into the palace hall. It’s just as eerily quiet as it was before, but—my heart skips a hopeful beat in my chest—someone has left faint, matte footprints pressed into the polished shine of the stone floor.
Perhaps they’ll lead me to Persephone, if not to Cerberus.
Or to whoever—whatever—broke down the queen’s doors.
Florence’s warnings echo in my mind as I slip out into the hall and move as quietly as possible along one side of the wall, careful not to disturb the prints as I go.
I know this is dangerous, but I refuse to believe it is any worse than sitting still like prey just waiting for its chance to be caught.
