She grinned. “I’m just saying, ten pastry stalls in Paris does not a tour make.”
He sighed deeply. “It’s about time we upgraded, anyway.” His eyes glinted. “Ever seen Notre Dame at night?”
Before she could answer, he whisked her into an alley, wrapping his lean but strong arms around her. The embrace lasted only a moment—warm and solid—before he teleported them.
She shrieked the moment they reappeared—nose to old stone and a grimacing gargoyle, its features eroded by centuries of rain.
“Hermes!” she said sharply, her heart beating fast from the embrace and from the teleportation.
“I should’ve recorded that,” he said, laughing. The sound was bright and unrestrained, bouncing off the stone around them.
She swatted his arm, though she couldn’t help smiling along with him, feeling the infectious tug of his joy.
That joy diminished as she froze, staring at the glittering view stretching out across Paris. The city was all sparkling golden lights, broken by the river winding through the streets below. Her eyes caught the Eiffel Tower in the distance, its lights outlining the familiar structure, standing out from the rooftops of the endless buildings stretching out farther than her eyes could see. The wind pulled her hair, making her feel light and unburdened. Almost as though she were in Thanatos’ arms while flying. That same sense of freedom, of being above everything threatening to weigh her down.
She wasn’t just a human on the run. She wasn’t only a cursed girl. Not a problem to be protected. She was simply Iliana. Alive and free.
Awareness dawned as she looked down at the old stones under her feet. They weren’tnearNotre Dame. They wereonit.
This building had survived revolutions, fires, and wars. Its history almost hummed underneath her feet, vibrating up through the soles of her shoes. How many people had had the chance to stand on this roof? To see this exact view?
She nearly believed she didn’t belong there—that someone more deserving should be standing in her place. Not someone who only got the chance because of her connection to a god. Only on account of her curse.
While processing her shock, she reached out, touched the gargoyle, and traced its surface. She felt the limestone, pitted and worn, its features smoothed in places and rough in others. But it continued to protect the cathedral. It still watched over Paris, rain or shine.
Something about seeing the gargoyle resonated. It had been through so much, but it was still there. It hadn’t given up and crumbled. Maybe she could do the same. Perhaps she could survive and still be herself when everything was said and done. She could return to her normal life. Worn, perhaps, and definitely changed by the experience, but still standing. Still fighting.
Hermes stepped in front of her, blocking the wind. “You don’t like it?”
Tears burned at the backs of her eyes. She blinked them away before they could fall, before they could betray her. “I love it,” she blurted. “I’m just…in awe.”
He smiled and took her hand, threading their fingers together. “Come on. There’s more to see.”
She let Hermes take her away from the gargoyle, holding onto that tenuous hope.
For the first time since they arrived in Paris, he seemed to relax. His shoulders dropped, some of the tightness easing. She wondered how much of that had to do with escaping the eyes of the people in the streets. Did he prefer his solitude?
Rather than bringing up a sensitive topic, she listened to Hermes’ stories about the cathedral’s hidden messages. The symbolism in the carvings, the Philosopher’s Stone that was supposedly hidden in its architecture. He even teased about the hunchback ringing the bells.
When she hummed ‘Hellfire’, his startled and unguarded laughter wrapped around her. She enjoyed hearing it. It was so different from his careful charm. It was real.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and continued walking. Before they could make it very far, he stopped so abruptly she bumped into him.
Iliana caught herself against his chest, looking up at him in concern. “Hermes?”
He glanced down, offering his usual grin, but she caught the worry in his eyes. “I thought you’d want to see the inside,” he said.
She debated asking what was wrong, but held back. If there were a threat to her safety, he would’ve taken her back to the others instead of carrying on the tour of the cathedral. So, she let him take her inside.
The interior was cool, scented with old incense and stone. The sounds from their footsteps made her feel as if she were intruding on something holy, as if she might be caught at any moment and ushered out of the building.
Hermes didn’t seem to have the same worries. Instead, he teleported them between wings as he told stories and pointed out different carvings and paintings. There were saints with gilded halos, demons writhing in torment. Hermes’ voice carried through the vast space, intimate despite the cathedral’s size.
By the time they sat on a bench to rest, her feet were throbbing, protesting every step. The wooden bench was hard underneath her, smoothed down by countless visitors. But Hermes wasn’t resting. His mind was clearly elsewhere, his body tense. His eyes kept moving to the cathedral’s entrances, seeming to track something she couldn’t see. The nonchalant ease he’d worn for most of the evening was now gone, replaced by alertness.
Something was wrong. She just couldn’t see it.
“Have you learned anything about the curse? About who placed it?” The question came out softly, swallowed by the cathedral’s vastness.
