Page 58 of The Prince of Hidden Shadows
Well-rested, I sigh in contentment and take a slow sip of mycafé crèmewhile indulging in some people-watching.
So much has changed since I was here last, a lifetime or two ago…
FindingHeureux Hasardhad nothing to do with serendipity—the closest translation of its name in French. Tucked around the corner from the small hotel I’ve booked, this fabulous place combines an old-fashioned Parisian café and an adjacent bakery.
The warm aroma of buttery croissants and freshly baked bread wafts through the air. It’s become our base of operations, so to speak, the place where Eros and I start our day. Must be why thecouple who ownsHeureux Hasardshared the name’s origin a few days ago. They couldn’t make up their minds, so they opted to transform the large space into one that offered both options to please more customers.
My mouth waters at the sight of the bread andviennoiseries—croissantsandbrioches—Eros and I ordered. “This place,” I murmur to my friend across the table, tracing the marble surface with my fingertips, “feels as though I’ve wandered into a memory that was never mine. As if I ought to be wearing a trench coat and lighting a cigarette, not thumbing a cell phone or consulting Jeeves AI.” The latter became my latest ally upon my return to Earth. I think I’ve cracked this technology thing, and I see humans in a new light. They fill their world with both good and evil, yet their creativity never ceases to awe me.
Rolling up the sleeves of my pristine white dress shirt, my eyes marvel at my surroundings. The black-and-white tiles under my feet look worn, as if smoothed by decades of hurried steps and morning rituals. Golden baguettes line the wooden shelves behind the nearby counter, their crusts cracking, while the scent of sinfully warm butter and sugar drifts from the back, seeping into my clothes.
“I hear you.” He slathers a piece of baguette with butter and apricot jam, takes a bite of his appetizingtartine—struggling to hold back a moan—and wipes his mouth with the white cotton napkin placed over his knees. Mimicking human habits took some getting used to. Each day offers a new experiment; but we were not born yesterday. Adapting is second nature for Greek gods and their kin, while I remain wary of the cold—a winter trip was out of the question.
Today, the morning is crisp, but not unkind, the kind of spring morning where the chill sharpens the senses, a reminder thatwarmth waits nearby, unsettled. Lost in my thoughts, I fathom that I’ve missed all that. I’ve approached my return with caution, and I am grateful to have Eros at my side.
Across from me, he stirs his espresso, his dark eyes flicking between me and the passing crowds. “You’re a lot quieter than usual.” He takes a measured sip of the steaming beverage. “Thinking about him?”
No clarification required. The answer is always Théo. The man with whom I invented happily ever after—or at least the part that could last. Our feelings. Eternal, if nothing else.
Decades have gone by, and his absence hasn’t stopped clinging to me, woven into the fabric of my existence. After his passing, life in Paris, in Le Marais, or in the apartment we shared felt pointless. Heartbreaking. Impossible.
I fled straight back to my quarters, mourning my man in silence and alone, knowing I’ll always cherish every minute of our happy, crazy, and fulfilling life together. True to the choices that defined him, his will left all his assets to charity—an ultimate act that spoke louder than words.
Up until a week ago, I embraced my loneliness. Back to working for my father. Back to watching the gray sky of the Underworld, enjoying its unique atmosphere. Back to letting my friends entertain my sorry asson occasion,but favoring solitude and the use of my hand at the thought ofhim…
I spent countless days in my quarters staring at the painting Théo stole for me, imagining how the seasons were shifting on Earth. Fingers hovered on the spine of the grimoire Nathan took and entrusted to me. It had caused enough imbalance between good and evil. Ending that insanity made Father proud at last.My heart brimmed with the radiant memories of the human who once filled it with joy—it was about time I shook off my melancholy. For good.
Without overthinking it, I chose a face that felt both foreign and familiar—my younger self, the one he first fell for. The face and body mirror my state of mind. I told myself it was nostalgia, that if Théo’s soul ever gets reincarnated and finds me again, I want him to recognize me. Maybe my reasoning is foolish, but it works for me.
Granted, it sucks that being the Prince of the Underworld doesn’t grant me knowledge of his soul’s reincarnation state. But then again, I won’t stick my nose where it doesn’t belong. I may be a god, but I play fair. Finding out would mean satisfying a selfish desire and potentially interfering with the future. I cannot do that.
I had high hopes for his soul, but…
I did not ask about the judgment passed on Théo’s soul. I did not want to learn that, despite his efforts, his soul had fallen into a shadowed realm beyond my reach. I did not linger by the Styx to question Charon on its whereabouts. Thanks, but no thanks. I steered clear of recreating the mess I dealt with when Willem was involved.
And then, from the depths of the Earth, a sudden craving forcroissantsrose. Where else than Paris? Eros tagged along, declaring it had long been overdue that he brings his business and some of his assistants back.
After each morning’s typical French breakfast has been wolfed down, we explore the city and its evolution. It’s changed so much since I first moved here with Théo. Museums. Gardens.Monuments. So different from my home… Only the Paris sky often reflects my mellow mood, incapable of deciding between blue and gray. I guess some things never change.
“I was just remembering,” I murmur, my fingers tracing the rim of my cup. “How Théo and I spent countless hours over coffee at Café Magnifique, oblivious we were caught in a fast, furious, blissful fall for each other. How we never labeled those moments, though they might as well have been dates, and we were far too blind—or too scared—to say so. How a supposedly insignificant job at the caféaltered his life, well, ours…”
My eyes drift away as daydream about our life together. His success at Cordon Bleu culinary school, thanks to his healthy competition with his friend, Marley. Our decision to study the bakery market in France led us to open our own bakery, which then expanded across Europe and to Asia. My sole regret concerns kids, since it wouldn’t have been wise—because of my own nature, his constant traveling, and our desperation to live this life to the fullest, as a couple. He sought to redeem his soul through selfless acts, mentoring lost kids as his apprentices to give them purpose, and shaping his life with prudent choices.
Waiting, Eros gives me space until I’m ready to continue. “I’m remembering…” I swallow the lump in my parched throat by drinking some of my water that somehow appeared while I was reminiscing. “The end. When Théo reminded me of the promise I made years prior… as if I’d ever forget it.” I glance at my friend. “And yet, despite everything I’ve lived through, it was the most heart-wrenching event. Nothing I had experienced with Willem, back in the Underworld, had been so…” My throat constricts, and I’m unable to carry on. Studying my coffee so he won’t witness my watery eyes, I scold myself for turning this pleasant breakfast into a sappy one.
“Meaningful?” Eros exhales, setting his cup down. I nod without looking at him. “You did the right thing.” With that, he stands and clasps my shoulder. “Listen, I’ll be right back. I’m famished and in need of more of these French delicacies to indulge my sweet tooth.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re incorrigible.” In a lower whisper, I add, “It’s a good thing we don’t put on weight like humans, isn’t it?” His laughter warms my heart.
“Before I go, I meant to say one more thing: seeing your true self was his choice, Zagreus. I hope you don’t beat yourself up for keeping your word to him. Your man deserved the truth.” Leaving me to my troubled thoughts, he strolls over to theboulangerieside ofHeureux Hasard.
Yes, it was Théo’s choice. And yet, even as my man’s old yet forever beautiful body grew frail, his mind clear and unyielding, it seemed like a betrayal. The moment he saw my true form, his body gave in, as I told him it would. And yet, he somehow succeeded in astonishing me. He left this world with wonder in his eyes and my name on his lips. He held my hand until the very end. He trusted that we’d find each other again. I trusted it, too. But time passed, and my certainty eroded, etching a dull yearning that knotted my chest. The temptation to search for his soul in the Underworld grew strong. Asking whether my soulmate would recognize me if we crossed paths felt wrong. Above all, abandoning my own moral code would have been hypocritical. I’d asked him to walk a rightful path—how could I stray from mine?
I didn’t.
Head down. Profile low. Routine on—until boredom gnawed at me, and I found the strength to roam the Earth again.
Lost in my thoughts, I gulp what’s left of my water and put down my empty glass. Looking up, my pulse trips over itself when my wandering eyes land onhim.
