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“So give us a little credit, Professor.”
My frown changes. I bristle by a little, not enjoying her invocation of his title. It’s different than when Kell or Jaden uses it, almost as an endearment. Maximus is now, semi-officially, part of the family. Additionally, I’m still not certain this petitegoddessis who she claims to be. Any cosplayer worth their salt could deck themselves out to resemble Persephone this closely, especially if Hecate loaned her magic to help along the cosmetic process.
I hate thinking that way, especially if this girl is the real thing and expected at the hell king’s castle soon, but I’m not living in a Hollywood bubble anymore. Not everyone has my wellbeing at the top of their list. My own horrible stay in Dis, though a fraction of what Persephone is in for, was enough of a lesson for that.
And maybe I’m just grabbing any reason to dodge her main message now.
Which, thankfully, she doesn’t seem eager to get back to either. “Wewereat the gala, though,” she says, breaking into a surprising smile. “Did you see us? We were in disguise as servers. Can you believe that? I got to take a drink to Timothée Chalamet!”
Just like that, my own smile resurfaces. The moment reminds me of an occasion where Jaden and I got to do the same thing, of sorts. As a prize for a charity auction, we were hired as snack servers at the birthday party for some movie executive’s kid. We were teenagers at the time and didn’t know any better. Two kids vomited on me while Jaden made out in the closet with the group’s babysitter. If, at the time, someone had told me I’d look back on the memory with a grin…
So many things a person will write off as impossible.
So many jokes that life is waiting to play on us.
No greater proof do I need than this very moment.
Standing here with the queen of the underworld, trying to forget that she’s all but mandated me to get married before the year is through. In return, only thinking that I want to ask her what Timothée Chalamet was wearing tonight.
Thankfully, Maximus is here to bail me out. “How did you know we left the party?” he asks, his tone as quiet and valid as his purpose.
A shrug from Persephone, along with an irritated frown. “Hel-lo. We were standing right there. You just didn’t notice because you’d beentrapped”—she gives her emphasized word some hard air quotes—“in the Pendry’s elevator for so long, and Kell had your attention while Hermes was taking care of the video footage that would’ve had everyone talking about you forotherreasons.”
I cock my head. My frown isn’t as irked as hers, but it’s just as deep. “Hermes?”
The goddess nods. “Known to you, at least, as Namazzi Wood.”
Maximus snorts. “The mild-mannered night manager?”
“Another illusion you were supposed to believe,” she supplies with pinup-girl swagger. “Hermes isn’t Hecate’s counterpart for empty reasons.”
“He’s a shapeshifter too,” Maximus supplies.
“Summoned to keep me in line, I suppose.” Just as swiftly, the poster girl vanishes from her mien. Like a douse of ink wash, she’s again struggling to breaststroke through edgy insecurity. “I get jumpy when the time nears to return…you know…tohim.”
The last rasps of her confession are like gravitational magnets on my legs. I move toward her whether I want to or not. I try telling myself that Idowant to, but the subject matter has other ideas for my nerves. For the very fibers of my psyche.
Just having to talk about this again…abouthimagain…is torture. But for the shivering woman in front of me now, even as I take her hands in mine, I endure it.
“Idoknow,” I tell her. “You know I do. If I could take away the burden of all this from you, I would.”
“No.”
Her response is as adamant as the way she jerks away. Though the sorrow persists on her face, there’s a fresh stab of stiffness up her spine.
“No,” she repeats, more emphatically than before. “You can’t take it away. Even if you could, you wouldn’t. And you won’t.” She sets her head higher. “This is so important, I dared to sneak away from Hecate and come looking for you two. Now you have to hold upyourend.” Her gaze sweeps out, boldly scooping up Maximus in its fresh ferocity. “Both of you.”
Behind me, Maximus scrapes the air with his contemplative rustle. “By getting married,” he concludes, to be answered by a slight repose from the goddess. Not a complete mitigation, but enough that I fully notice. But she shores herself up enough that her jaw is stiffer. There’s more conviction in her scrutiny.
“Your wedding is the key,” she states. “The event that must save us all.”
“Us all,” Maximus echoes. “As in who?”
“Usall.” She huffs, openly frustrated again. “Do you want me to be plainer? Every creature that exists in every realm that you can conceive. Perhaps a few you aren’t aware of. That none of us are.”
As she speaks, I pivot around toward Maximus once more. He closes his eyes and drops his sockets against his braced fingers. They’re among his signs—the ones I know so well by now—that he’s struggling to access his self-control. The stuff that, until three weeks ago, was the main tableau of his character. The key point of his pride. Now, thanks to the nonstop chaos I’ve brought into his world, he’s struggling to find it because of a woman barely half his size. And he’s doing itwillingly.
Just like that, my love for him grows yet again. To heights I can barely measure anymore.
