Like fire rushing through my veins, it feels like the heat of a million shooting stars is pouring through me. I claw at my throat. My skin feels like it is being scalded and peeling off of itself. A horrible sound fills the room as I sink to the ground and try to curl into a ball. I just want to minimize the agonizing pains shooting through my body.
“Please stop, please stop, please,” a voice shouts.
It’s my voice. My raspy, tired, unused voice.
Phaedra kneels next to me and puts a hand on my back. She murmurs a few words, but I can’t hear her over the keening sound coming from me. As she touches me, a warmth spreads through my body, healing me from the inside out. My breathing slows, my chest eases as all traces of pain vanish. My breathing steadies as Todd scoops me up and sets me into the chair.
My fins…my fins.
They are back. My beautiful scales, my delicate fins. They curl around themselves, and I sit back in the seat. The water is warm in the most delightful way. It surrounds me, lapping up against me like the embrace of an old friend.
“Are you all right, Princess?” Todd asks gently.
My hands touch my cheeks and come away wet. I am crying. I take a deep breath to stop the panting. “Yes,” I say. A sob wracks my chest, soaking my stolen suit's fine, cashmere jacket. In the place of my legs, I see my beautiful tail.
“Don’t worry about your pants, Princess Helena; I have taken care of them with a spell,” Phaedra says. She turns to the king, her beauty enhanced by the room's darkness. “Your Highness, I believe she has proved herself not to be a threat.”
“A threat?” I gasp. Everyone looks at me. My hand touches my lips. I am not used to being heard. My eyes travel to my uncle.
He is staring at me, the tips of his steepled fingers pressing into his mouth. At last, he says, “Very well.”
The king lets out a long breath, and the blackness around me fades.
Nothing is like what I first thought. My uncle’s desk is stacked with books and papers. Scattered trinkets clutter the corners. Bookshelves and paintings line every inch of the office, save the roof-to-floor window that gives the most breathtaking view of the Gates of Hell.
Creatures do live here, but none that I can name.
I suck in a breath and savor the taste of cinnamon. “It’s beautiful,” I breathe.
My eyes lock back onto Uncle Aidoneus and find that he is not as he appeared either. Gone is the frightening businessman, and in his place is someone I’d love to get to know. The cut of his suit jacket is indeed fine, but it is a soft tweed pattern. Crimson, black, and cream cross-cut through the navy blue fabric. He wears a white button-up situated under a gray knit sweater.
He stands, revealing the black, horned crown that sits upon his brow. Part of it comes down his nose, separating his stunning eyes. My uncle’s hair is styled, his white curls set back into the look of what one might imagine of a book collector.
“What in the nine circles of hell…” I whisper. When everyone around me reacts to my thought, I realize I’ve said it aloud and curse again. “Sorry. I am not used to this speaking thing,” I explain awkwardly.
Phaedra smiles encouragingly, and I spy my uncle cast one loaded glance at her. The intensity behind the look makes my brows furrow.This is a man who is still mourning his wife?
I instantly shove the thought away, relieved I hadn’t foolishly spoken it aloud.
“Helena,” my uncle says as he stands and straightens his sweater with one efficient tug. “Before you begin. Would you mind explaining this?”
Todd crosses to a carved dark wood door and slips inside. We all wait for him, but sounds of a struggle ensue. I shift in the water, anxious to see what’s on the other side of that door.
The stale air thickens with grunts of anguish, and an ear-splitting crash echoes through the chamber. Todd strides out from behind the veil, gripping Erik's collar in one hand. The tortured soul is dragged along like a ragdoll until he falls at my feet.
My mouth gapes open as I recognize his face. My uncle laughs, and not in an unkind way. “You’ve both made quite a mess trying to find each other,” King Hades says.
I move closer, feeling Fortuna's presence fill the room with a rumbling chant. It's as if Fortuna foretold this moment and scripted it to be played out with heavy music instead of sorrowful tears.
The man I cared for kneels with his head hung low, bowing before me in solemn acceptance of defeat.
"Erik?" I say tentatively.
His head snaps up, and he studies my face. More tears slide down my cheeks. He looks like a ghost. A horrible ghost who betrays people who care about him. Heat and sorrow combine to create something potent and unwanted.
“Speak, mortal,” the king commands. All of his intimidating nature returns in a flash.
Erik ignores the king. He looks at me and studies my face. At that moment, it is as though there is no one here but the two of us. “Helena.”