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She couldn’t deny it. She did look like a goddess. Someone far grander than she actually was.
“You are very talented, Mera,” Pandora said, smoothing her palms along her skirts. Ever since her conversation with Apollo—no, ever since her confrontation with Sol—she found it difficult to breathe, to form a coherent thought.
Sol knew her name. Somehow, he did. And the thought made Pandora nauseous.
Did he think she was the real Pandora? The one from all those years ago who had dabbled in dark magic?
Was that why he had looked so horrified when he’d left the library?
Her mind was scrambled. She had a plan: orchestrate an explosive attack on Elysium to urge Apollo to take down the wards. Then, the magic from her box would swoop in and do the rest.
And yet… for the first time, her heart twisted with uncertainty.
Was this the right plan?
Yes, screamed the voice inside her. Yes! The pain. The torment. The agony. I must be avenged.
It must be done.
Yes, these were the words Pandora often reminded herself.
But why must it be done?
This was the first time she considered that perhaps there was another way to be free. Perhaps destruction wasn’t the only course of action for her to take.
She didn’t want to be a monster. She didn’t want Sol to look at her that way, as if she were a terrifying creature intent on slaughtering everyone.
In truth, that’s what the soul within her wanted her to be. A creature of vengeance and death.
She didn’t know why she suddenly cared what Sol thought. But the idea that someone like him—so self-centered and loathsome—would look at her as if she were even more despicable than he was… It made her insides tremble.
The memories within her raged at her uncertainty, thrashing against the restraints of her mind. But she forced them down, turning her attention to Mera.
The servant was beaming, clearly taking pride in what she had accomplished with Pandora’s appearance. Mera wouldn’t even be attending the ball because she was lowborn, and yet here she was, glowing like a princess herself.
Pandora’s heart twisted further, like a knife digging deeper into her ribs.
Mera would die. Along with all the other servants.
They were only following orders. They weren’t responsible for what had happened all those years ago. Hell, they probably didn’t even know what Apollo and Aidoneus had done.
Rattling gasps tore through her, and she braced her hands on the vanity to keep herself upright.
“My lady?” Mera was by her side, hands wrapping around her to guide her toward the edge of the bed, where she sat, her hands shaking.
“You are unwell,” Mera observed. “Let me fetch a healer.”
“No.” Pandora swallowed hard, closing her eyes as she slowly found her breaths. “Forgive me. I am well. I can—It was just… a trying day. I will be glad to distract myself with merriment tonight.”
Mera smiled, but her eyes still shone with concern.
This servant, this stranger, was genuinely concerned for Pandora.
“Shall I send for someone to escort you downstairs?” Mera asked.
Pandora cleared her throat and stood, finding her resolve. “Thank you, Mera. I am fine.” She paused, eyeing the servant, her gaze sweeping over the drab brown dress she wore. “You should come.”
Mera blanched. “To… the ball?” When Pandora nodded, Mera’s cheeks flamed red. “Oh no, my lady. I couldn’t possibly.”
