“Your sisters,” Thanatos repeated. His eyes narrowed. “Four of you in a tower, yet only one peers through my veil. What is it thatyoudivine, Cyrie? What else does the gift of Apollo reveal to you?”
I nibbled my lip. A small, shameful groan escaped me before I could restrain it. “Me?” I replied with reluctance. “Not much, I’m afraid. I’m…truly awful at it. I can read the signs given to us from nature, and from the entrails of sacrifices, but I haven’t been into trance since that day at the market. My sisters are much more useful than I am.”
“And yet, here we are,” Thanatos pointed out.
“Yes. Here we are. I suppose my sight isn’t so worthless after all. That’s a comforting thought.” I let my gaze linger on him, this winged beauty so enrapturing that I could almost forget the danger he embodied. I watched the way the light played over his furrowed brows, watched the little frown that tugged the corners of his lips as he puzzled over the nature of our connection.
“Hmm,” he muttered, and I forced myself back to attention. “Strange, though, is it not? That you alone share my realm?”
“Maybe. But my sisters’ gifts all have a unique character as well,” I explained. “Sophie is very good with weather, for instance. She can usually warn before harsh storms approach. Zoe has an exquisite mathematical mind, and she’s rightly predicted the yield of our crops for the last ten years. And Alexandra…can do anything, really. Supplicants often come toher directly with their questions, and most of the time an answer is revealed to her. I’ve always been jealous of that.”
I gave it a thought, though, and brightened even more. “But I suppose that’s all worth it, since I can seeyou. If this is what my sight has given me, it is better than all of their gifts. I’m very grateful for it.”
“I have stood before many seers,” Thanatos said slowly, “and have never been seen. Your ability…it vexes me. Nevertheless, I think I am grateful as well.”
“Yeah?” I asked, grinning.
“Yes.” He relaxed into a smile that mirrored my own. “It is somewhat refreshing to speak with a living person. I had never really tried it before, but I have decided that I enjoy your company.”
“Yay,” I breathed, then quickly cleared my throat, hoping he hadn’t heard my awkwardness. “I mean, I like you too. I like to talk to you. Please come back.”
He restrained a laugh, but I saw it reach his eyes. “I have not even left yet.”
“Well…still,” I said, flustered. “Hey, this is new for me, too.” How was I supposed to think straight, looking at someone like that? It really wasn’t fair.
He rearranged his wings as if to further flaunt his divinity. “Will you tell me more? About you. What is your life like, day to day?”
“Oh. Okay,” I said nervously, wondering why the details of temple life would interest him. Somehow, I found conversing about myself to be more intimidating than witnessing the souls of the dead. Then again, perhaps that was why he was compelled to stay. I snuggled deeper into my blanket and debated what to say.
“My sisters and I mostly live in that room,” I relayed at last. “The one we were in when you laughed at me from ourcouch.” I gave a grumpy glare before continuing, which was met with an unapologetic smirk. “In the mornings we tend to the visitors in the prayer grounds. There are shrines to many gods there where people wish to pray. We cleanse the visitors and lay hands on them as priestesses, making the way clear for their supplications to reach Olympus. Many people come each morning.
“After lunch and until the sun sets, there are many things we could be told to do. Sometimes we perform rituals or entertain guests. Right now we’re in preparations for our solstice festival, and that takes forever. But they always find something for us; our keeper makes sure of that. In the evenings we walk the grounds, or return to our room.” I shrugged. “There’s not much more to it than that.”
“It is an unusual life,” Thanatos mused. “I wonder if the Olympians acknowledge you. How do they decide their answers to your pleadings? When are they moved by your temple’s reverence? I suspect it means little to them—unless, of course, you were to stop.” He gave me a knowing look. “Then their pride would mean trouble for you.”
I scrunched up my face. “They hearsomething. Apollo cared enough, at least, to give us prophecy. And Demeter, to bless the harvest.” I gave it a thought and hastily added, “And Zeus, of course—for the rain, and for…not smiting us.”
Thanatos chuckled. “Covering for every possibility, are you? Smart.”
“I mean, I don’t know what they hear!” I said defensively. “Doyouknow what it’s like? To hear the calls of mortals?”
“No,” he laughed. “No one prays to me, as no one wishes to draw my gaze, or that of Hades. Besides, I truly do not care. I come for everyone just the same.”
“But what about the ones who don’t do it to bargain with you?” I pressed. “I mean, prayers of reverence, or flattery?”
He gave me a wistful smile. “Only the dead flatter me,” he said quietly. “But it is adorable for you to think of it.” His gaze softened, and he reached out, seemingly on instinct, only to freeze with his hand hovering in the air between us. When I didn’t shrink away, he hesitantly tucked a fallen lock of my rain-dampened hair behind my ear. I briefly forgot how to breathe.
“You can ask me now, if you desire,” Thanatos offered, retreating back to his own space. “What else did you wish to know?”
“Hmm,” I stalled. I had come up with a list of things over the past day, but now I was too distracted by my pounding heartbeat to recall it. “Do you have family?” I finally asked. That was a good enough place to start.
“I have many siblings,” he answered. “And a twin, Hypnos, who is Sleep. I know him the best, but lately he visits the Underworld less and less. He likes to play in the mortal plane, and has a home there. The rest of them I only speak with if I must.”
“Why is that?”
He shrugged. “We are simply different. They are Vengeance, Strife, Deceit, and many others. They keep to what they are, as do I. I spend most of my time here, in my own plane, collecting souls. If not, I am usually in the Underworld. I have little interest in much else.”
“Is there anyone youdolike to speak with?” I wondered.
