HINDSIGHT
The Gods of Fate (Book III)
by
Sherry D. Ficklin
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY:
Dragonfly Publishing, Inc.
Hindsight
Copyright 2012 Sherry D. Ficklin
Young Adult Fantasy
(48,000 words) Rated PG
EAN 978-1-936381-39-5
ISBN 1-936381-39-7
Cover Art 2012 Dragonfly Publishing, Inc.
Dragonfly Logo 2001 Terri L. Branson
Ebook Edition
EAN 978-1-936381-39-5
ISBN 1-936381-39-7
Story Text Copyright 2011 Sherry D. Ficklin
Cover Art Copyright 2011 Dragonfly Publishing, Inc.
Dragonfly Logo Copyright 2001 Terri L. Branson
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. This eBook edition is protected by copyright, and is sold under a standard single user license for the exclusive use of the initial retail customer. This file may not be copied, printed, changed, or distributed or by any means to any other persons or business entities for free or for profit. Visit http://www.loc.gov for the current laws and penalties associated with copyright infringement.
Published in the United States of America by
Dragonfly Publishing, Inc.
Gods of Fate Series (in order):
FORESIGHT (Book I)
SECOND SIGHT (Book II)
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DEDICATION:
For my mom. Everything I ever learned about love and loyalty I learned from you.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS:
Writing this series has been an amazing journey for me. I want to first thank the wonderful people who made it all possible, Terri, Pat, and Janet, my team over at Dragonfly Publishing. Thank you so much for taking a chance on me and my books. You will never know how much you ladies mean to me. I would also like to thank the readers who have followed Grace through the books. Without you guys my words would never have had wings. As always, I need to thank my amazing family and friends for all their love and support. You make me feel blessed and humbled every day. Special thanks to my extremely talented sister-in-law Monica who gave my characters faces and to the beautiful Rebecca S. who is the best alpha-reader and friend a girl could ask for. And finally, to my husband whose patience and support knows no boundaries. I couldn't have done it without you! ~ Thank you! ~ Sherry
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Cast of Characters:
OLYMPIANS:
Apollo [Sun God]
Calliope [One of the Muses]
Chance [Demi-God]
Charron [Ferryman of the Dead]
Eris [Goddess of Discord]
Eros [God of Lust]
Grace [the Harbinger]
Hades [God of the Underworld]
Hephaestus [God of the Forge]
Hermes [Messenger God]
Mnemosyne [Goddess of Memory]
Pan [God of the Wild]
Pandora [Keeper of the Urn]
Persephone [Queen of the Underworld]
Prometheus [God of Foresight]
Psyche [Demi-Goddess]
Sybil [Demi-Goddess]
FAE:
Christopher [Seelie Sidhe]
Phoenix [Seelie Sidhe]
Lorna [Seelie Sidhe]
Luna [Seelie Sidhe]
Lynx [Unseelie Sidhe]
Lucinda [Seelie Sidhe]
Phillip [Seelie Sidhe]
Ghared [Seelie Sidhe]
Mimble [Demi-Fae]
GUARDIANS:
Baal [Mehmet the Second]
James [Alexander the Great]
Michael [Charlemagne]
Samael [Gaius Julius Caesar]
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PROLOGUE
CHRIS was still fuming when he arrived back in the main square of Aletheia, the capitol city of the Fae.
His chest rose and fell, heavy from the run back from the waterfall and from the sting of Grace’s rejection. Pausing to wipe his hair from his eyes, he looked up at the glittering dome of The Hall of Memory.
He had watched Grace for some time now, trying to figure out a way to get closer to her, a way past the walls she kept around herself. In all his years, he had never met anyone like her. Grace Archer was a goddess. A real one. Daughter of the demi-goddess Pandora and the Titan Prometheus, Grace was an actual living, breathing Olympian.
She was strong, but at the same time fragile. Each time he touched her, he feared she might slip away like sand between his fingers. When he was with her, it was as if the stars had aligned. Being away from her made him anxious and irritable.
He jogged up the steps to the open doors of the hall and silently cursed the Guardian James for interfering yet again.
Today he had been so close to making a connection with her that he could almost taste it. But the beautiful, mysterious, and infuriating Grace had once again held Chris at arm’s length. It was not James’ fault, although it was tempting to lay blame there. Each time Chris saw James with Grace, jealousy gagged him like a bitter fruit. Something about James made Grace pull away. If Chris could only get her alone for just a few minutes, he was sure he could break through her defenses. That was why he had decided to confront her in the Hall of Memory.
Chris paced the marble floor, walking slowly along the edges of the massive mosaic sun set in the floor.
There was mutual attraction. He could feel that much. But there was also something else, a deep tug in the back of his mind that made it impossible to think about anything else. Something sat uncomfortably on the hazy edges of his vision, demanding that he go to her. It was a need he could not deny. He had never felt so much for anyone. Though they had only known each other a short while, he recognized exactly what it was.
It was madness. It was frustration. It was love.
And he would do whatever it took to make her see that.
Near the shadowy wall, Chris paced back and forth, as if he could bring her to him with nothing but sheer desire.
He heard someone climb the steps.
Grace entered the Hall. Wearing a red leather fighting outfit, her chin was held high and a fierce look of determination was etched on her face. Sunlight cast a fiery halo around her red hair and her eyes shone emerald green.
Realizing that she hadn’t noticed him lurking in the shadows, he opened his mouth to announce himself. But quickly snapped his jaws shut. In a combination of curiosity and blatant obsession, he stepped behind a large urn and crouched out of sight, pulling his Fae wings close to his body.
Why had she come here? And why had James been so much against it?
Chris had overheard them arguing near the waterfall. He had only listened to reassure himself that there were no romantic ties between them. Hearing Grace reject the Guardian had filled his heart with a joy he had never known.
James loved Grace. That much was no surprise. But Grace didn't love James.
When Grace said she was coming to the Hall of Memory, Chris knew it would be his chance, possibly his last chance, to convince her that he was her true love.
Now he hid in the shadows like some pathetic stalker. He shook his head in shame. But something held him there, silent, as Grace pulled the doors closed behind her and moved to the center of the room.
“Hello, Grace.” The soft female voice of the Hall of Memory echoed in the chamber. “What would you like to see today?”
“I’d like to see the Beltane festival,” Grace requested. “Just one more time.”
She stepped back until her shoulders were flat against the far wall and watched, transfixed, as a heavy fog filled the center of the chamber.
Slowly, a vision appeared in the fog like a movie being projected onto a cloud.
Chris was staggered by the images in front of him. In the fog image, he danced with Grace and kissed her. She looked so happy. For that matter, so did he.
Shock was quickly replaced by confusion. When had all this happened? He remembered the Beltane Festival. He danced with a few friends, drank too much mead cider, and returned alone to his room. He hadn’t even known Grace back then.
Why would the Hall show memories of them together? Was it some kind of bizarre fantasy Grace had created? He shook his head, dismissing that idea. No, the Hall of Memory showed only the truth, history as it actually happened. There was no way to manipulate the images to show false histories. His mind flashed from one possibility to another at the speed of light, but nothing made any sense.
Chris started to stand, but froze when he looked back at Grace. She sat on the floor with her back against the wall and her knees pulled to her chest, cradling herself as tears rolled down her face. She smiled through the silent sobs wracking her body and wiped her eyes with her sleeve.
He flashed to an image of her looking like that, tears pouring from her eyes but in another place. A dark place. She was being restrained by James, who held her arms behind her back as she sobbed and fought to free herself.
The half-formed memory slipped from his mind, as the scene in the fog changed. Now they were together in Grace’s room, entwined on the bed. Chris watched Grace snuggle against his chest. Her breathing slowed and she fell asleep in his arms. In the vision Chris stroked her face before closing his eyes.
Then memory fog evaporated into nothing.
Grace wiped her eyes one more time. “Thank you,” she whispered.
She struggled to her feet and headed for the exit.
Too stunned to speak, Chris watched Grace pull open the doors.
She raised her face into the bright daylight, tilting her head up as if basking in the sun’s warmth. Then she squared her shoulders and vanished.
Dazed, Chris stepped out from behind the urn and shook out his wings. He walked over and closed the heavy doors. Then he moved to the center of the chamber.
“Hello, Christopher,” the disembodied voice said. “What would you like to see today?”
Chris didn’t have to think about the question. “Show me everything.”
* * * * *
CHAPTER 1
She blazes with battle fury out in front of her army, a girl, a warrior queen. ~ Virgil
A gothic ebony throne exploded into dust and rubble at Grace’s bare feet.
With an approving nod, her father Prometheus waved his hand and cleared the mess into oblivion. The Temple of the All Gods now sat empty, only the sound of Grace’s satisfied clap echoing in the round chamber.
“That’s the last one,” Prometheus said, patting his daughter on the back. The Titan stood bare-chested with a braid of black hair trailing down the center of his back between long white wings. Thick pink scars crisscrossed his tanned chest, a visual reminder of his time in Tartarus.
It had been a long couple of weeks, or however much time passed in the real world, since Grace had returned to Olympus. Time passed much differently on Olympus than in the human world. It was like comparing dog years to human years, and Grace didn’t really pay much attention to the days as they ticked by. Instead she kept herself busy doing anything she could, to distract from the memories of the people she left behind.
Grace and her father had taken up the task of cleaning and restoring the ruined temples and statues. The effort was not a small one, even for a demi-goddess and a Titan.
“What now?” Grace asked, wiping her long sleeve on a small bronze amphora to clear away caked dust.
“What do you think?” he asked, motioning to the empty space.
Grace was exhausted. The Gods didn’t actually sleep, but that part of her genetic chemistry hadn’t fully kicked in yet. She still slept like the dead almost every night. After a day of training or cleaning or building, she would return to her room and crash. She still could not bring herself to think of it as a temple. Rallying against the weariness that had set deep into her bones, she focused.
“Well, where are the demi-god temples?” she asked.
They focused their efforts on the temples along the main path through Olympus, the one that lead to the main temple, the Temple of All the Gods. Few of the Greek Gods remained on Olympus. Many had surrendered their immortality and moved on, others had been destroyed, but some had made their homes in the human world. Hermes, for example, still retained a temple on Olympus’ plane of existence, though he preferred to spend his days in a humble beach house on the coast of Cape Hatteras where he could continue his search for the perfect wave and the perfect hotdog. Hermes was not only a good friend, but his occasional poker night invitations were a welcome distraction.
“The demi-gods have no temples on Olympus,” Prometheus answered while examining a blank bit of wall. “If they are here, they mostly stay inside their parent’s temples. It’s the same reason there were only twelve thrones. Only the Gods are allowed inside the Temple of the Gods, or so it was in the days before the Dissension.”
He tilted his head back and forth for a minute before producing a golden ball of energy in his large hand, flinging it at the wall. A hole blasted through the marble in a perfect circle, creating a window from where a beam of shimmering light shown into the chamber, directly in the center of the room.
The Dissension was the final fall of the Olympians, when the Mother Goddess herself had reprimanded the Gods. She had been angry over the way they treated the humans and the Fae, so she laid down the law. As a matter of fact, she had done it twice.
It occurred to Grace that no matter where she went, on Earth, in Faerie, even on Olympus, there always seemed to be some type of segregation. Phoenix and Lynx, the Queen’s guard and Phoenix’s true love, were forbidden to be together because he was Unseelie and she was Seelie Sidhe. It was unfair, unjust, and it raked Grace’s nerves. The same self-important nonsense kept the half-gods and demi-gods separate and beneath the Olympian Gods. The acceptance of Grace came more easily because of her father being a Titan and her mother, Pandora, being a demi-goddess, making Grace more than a half-goddess. Plus the fact that while the other Olympians’ powers were diminished, hers were growing stronger. Grace had a ‘no questions asked’ place among the remaining Gods.
“The first thing we should do is change that,” she said decisively. “Maybe Hermes can get a list of all the remaining half-gods and demi-gods. We can build temples for them and do some re-arranging in the main temple. I mean, there’s so few of you left, it seems stupid not to include everyone.”
“We, dear daughter.” Prometheus slid a muscular arm across Grace’s shoulders. “There are so few of us left. And, you are absolutely right. It is time to unify our family. I believe the time has come to join together and unite in a new purpose. So many immortals are wandering aimlessly through eternity. It saddens me to see it. Perhaps you could change all that.”
“What can I do?” Grace asked.
Grace had only recently discovered her Olympian heritage. Her mother had fled the pantheon upon discovering she was pregnant, and Grace was raised with no knowledge of their existence. At least, not until a crazed demi-goddess had attacked Grace at her high school graduation.
That was less than a year ago, but to Grace it felt like another lifetime.
Even after discovering the truth, Grace chose to live in the Fae city of Aletheia with her aunt Phoenix.
A memory of the real reason she decided to stay in faerie swam to the front of her mind.
Chris.
She gasped at the sudden sharp pain in her chest. It hit her every time she thought of him, like ripping the bandage off a wound that hadn’t yet healed. The pain was sharp, immediate, and always seemed to catch her off guard. Part of her wanted to get lost in the memory, to wrap herself in it and roll around as the pain ate at her.
No, she told herself. Pushing away the memory and the pain, she pulled back her shoulders and held up her head.
Prometheus dropped a hand her shoulder and turned her to face him.
“Grace, you have the loyalty of some of the most powerful beings in existence. You have more powers than the rest of us combined. You have proven yourself courageous and honest. I believe you can give them purpose once again.”
Grace let that roll around in her head for a moment. It must be a dull existence, just hanging out on Olympus or wherever and doing nothing. Maybe they needed something to do, like a cause. Maybe, like the Guardians, they could use their limited powers to protect mankind.
Prometheus patted her arms and then released her. “You have a lesson, I believe. You should go. Apollo does not like to be kept waiting.”
Without warning, Apollo appeared.
Unlike Prometheus, Apollo had no wings. His bare chest, however, was sculpted in muscular perfection and his flawless skin held a golden glow.
With a curt nod Prometheus vanished, leaving Grace to her grumpy teacher.
Apollo agreed, at Prometheus’ request, to try to teach Grace the fundamental abilities of a Goddess.
They assured that her visions, her healing, and her ability to teleport were just the tip of the iceberg. The idea of gaining any new abilities made Grace nauseous. The ones she had were enough trouble. Power, she came to realize, always carried a price. Like everything else in life, the price was almost too much to ask, at the very limits of what you could tolerate and survive. Her whole existence felt that way now. As if she was walking the knife-edge between what she could survive, and what would send her spiraling into oblivion.
The problem with Apollo was that his incredible vanity was damaged by the fact that Grace didn’t, nor had she ever, found him overwhelmingly attractive. He was, in every conceivable way, the golden boy of Olympus. His face was long, but not too long, and was framed by a head of sunshine yellow curls that made his bright blue eyes stand out like lightning in the darkness. His jaw was square and, as Grace once observed, his nose leaned slightly to the left. Most people never noticed the tiny flaw, because he spent so much of his power making himself irresistible. He was accustomed to women falling all over themselves to get close to him. Grace just saw him as a specimen in a jar, something to be studied from a safe distance. Yes, he had given her the silver bow of Artemis that had allowed her to defeat Lilith. But she also had seen his wrath firsthand in a curse he had laid upon a young Oracle who, with great nerve, had refused his advances.
In short, Grace thought Apollo was a narcissist. The Goddess only knew what he thought of her.
“Now, are we ready to begin?” he asked with his hands clenched at his sides.
Grace nodded and twisted her long red hair into a bun at the back of her neck. She wore a flowing Grecian gown that hung from her shoulders in perfect folds and cinched at her waist by golden cords. It was green, like her eyes, and more comfortable than it looked. It was a gift from Eros who convinced her that to assume the role of a goddess meant dressing the part. Reluctantly, she traded the corset tops and leather pants she wore in Faerie for the more regal dress. It never wrinkled, nor did it tear or get dirty, no matter what she did in it. It was as light as air and as soft as silk. Basically, she loved it.
“Let’s do it,” Grace said as she manifested her silver bow into her hands.
With a smooth motion, she notched the wooden practice arrow. Apollo had given these to her the last time after she almost accidentally shot him with one of the extremely lethal silver arrows she used in battle. Taking a deep breath to center herself, she aimed for Apollo.
Wrinkling his nose, he placed a single finger on the point of the arrow and moved aside the bow. “Not archery practice today. I’m going to teach you how to fight with energy bursts as the Gods do.” He folded his arms across his chest, waiting for her to challenge him.
When the Gods fought, they had the ability to throw balls of electricity at each other. They manifested in all colors, and Grace knew from being hit by a few, they packed a serious punch. However, they were not lethal, unlike the silver arrows Apollo gave her on her eighteenth birthday. It was strictly forbidden for the Gods to kill each other. Maim, sure. Zap, absolutely. But killing another god was a one-way ticket to Tartarus, the eternal torture chamber of the Underworld.
In the past, she was hesitant to lean this particular ability, mostly because people continuously told her she must tap into her inner anger to do it. Since becoming immortal, she carried this darkness inside her, a seething rage she could barely restrain. It frightened her. And so she refused. Adamantly. Until today.
“Okay, let’s give it a shot,” she said, lowering the bow and sending it back to her temple with the blink of an eye.
Apollo crossed the chamber from her and dropped into a defensive crouch. He said nothing as his eyes shimmered red and then turned back to blue. If he was surprised by her response, he didn’t show it.
Grace offered a curt nod and mimicked his posture.
Slowly, the two began to circle the room.
With a flick of his wrist, a glowing ball appeared in Apollo’s hand.
Grace flicked her wrist in the same gesture.
Nothing.
“You’ve held a burst before, have you not?” he asked, straightening out of the crouch, still holding the energy burst in the palm of his hand.
“Only once,” she admitted. “Samael threw it at me and I caught it.”
“You have to try to remember what it felt like,” Apollo instructed. “Try to recall the feel of it in your hand.”
Grace closed her eyes, trying to focus on the sensation. After a minute she shook her head. “I can’t. It feels like forever ago, and I was so out of control when it happened.”
Apollo smirked and without warning tossed the burst at her.
With a gasp, Grace dove to the ground.
He laughed. “Come on, you can do better than that.” He created another burst in his hand and chucked it toward where Grace lay on the floor.
She rolled and it narrowly missed her, leaving a dark singe mark where she had been seconds earlier. “Hey, I just cleaned that.”
Jumping to her feet she growled, reaching down into the dark pit inside herself that contained her rage. It bubbled up to the surface, bringing with it a ferocious snarl. She felt it slide over her skin like oil, thick and cold.
This time when Apollo attacked, Grace was ready for him. He threw the burst and she reached forward, plucking it out of the air with so much speed that the movement was a blur. She drew up instinctively to throw it back at Apollo.
He held out his hands. “Now, Grace, just concentrate on the feel of it.”
She blinked and forced the anger back down, tightly locking the lid on it. The energy was warm in her hands, just on the edge between pleasure and pain. It was like a miniature thunderstorm in the palm of her hand. The color was created by sparks being carried by tiny tornadoes swirling so quickly that it was a blur of white and yellow.
For the first time, Grace understood what made the Gods, what made her, different. This amazing energy in the palm of her hand reminded her that once upon a time the Gods contained the power to cause storms like this in real size. And they did. They shook the Earth and rained fire from the skies. It was no wonder they were worshipped and feared. For the first time, she realized their loss and how greatly they were reduced. In a blink the burst was gone, simply melting into her skin.
“That was amazing,” she admitted, breathless.
“That is your heritage.” Apollo crossed the distance between them, taking her hand in an unusual gesture of kindness. “You are capable of so many things. You haven’t imagination enough to fathom them. Tides will rise at your behest, cities will tremble, and lightning will strike at your command. That is what it is to be a goddess. That is your power to claim.”
“I don’t deserve that kind of power,” Grace whispered.
“It is not a matter of deserving,” he scoffed. “There is only having and being strong enough to wield.”
Grace pulled her hand free. “Maybe it should be a matter of deserving.”
“And who would be the judge of whether one deserves?” he asked.
Grace thought about that for a minute. Turning she looked at the empty chamber around them. She didn’t feel fit to judge anyone. But there must be someone who could. Someone the immortals trusted, respected.
“You look exhausted,” Apollo said. “Why don’t you go rest? We will train more later.”
He stepped back and vanished, leaving Grace alone in the glowing torchlight.
In a flash she was back in her own room. Slipping out of her gown and into a simple white nightdress, she crawled into bed and was asleep before her head made it to the pillow.
* * * * *
CHAPTER 2
No living man can send me to the shades before my time; no man of woman born, coward or brave, can shun his destiny. ~ Homer
CHRIS stumbled out of the Hall of Memory.
He bolted down the ivory steps, rushing toward the palace and his sister, Queen Lorna.
Images of foreign emotions pulsed behind his eyelids. He needed answers. Had the Hall of Memory shown him the truth? Had he lived a life with Grace that he could not remember? How could that be? He thought back. His own memories were faded and gray, like staring at a photograph of the past without actually remembering having lived the scene.
No, he told himself. It was not possible. It must be a mistake.
The Fae Palace was bustling with people. It was again time for the Queen’s election. Seelie Sidhe Lords and Ladies came from all over to act as both representatives from their respective boroughs and to nominate a new leader. Lorna’s term had lasted the standard ten years. It was possible she might be re-elected as monarch. Knowing his sister, she would be ready to pass on the mantle and do something new. Some monarchs ruled for a hundred years. Some only one term. Lately, more the latter.
Pushing past an emissary from the Westland, Chris made his way into Lorna’s private rooms. Lynx, her personal guard, stood watch at the door to her library.
Lynx offered a half-bow, but even that left him towering above Chris. Large even for an Unseelie Sidhe, Lynx stood an intimidating six-foot and ten-inches with a halberd strapped across his back, not that he needed the weapon. Like all Unseelie, he bore tattoos on his back instead of wings. Lynx and his family had served the regent with faithful and brutal efficiency for over a thousand years. Stepping to the side, his warm brown eyes alert, Lynx allowed Chris to push open the heavy door.
“Lorna?” Chris called, closing the door behind him.
“Over here,” Lorna replied in a singsong voice.
Following the sound, he wound his way through the dusty stacks until he found his sister sitting cross-legged on the floor, a massive volume of what looked to be elfin poetry on her lap.
She smiled up at him with vivid eyes, her pearl-white wings fluttering. A pearl crown, nestled in a halo of golden hair, slipped to the side just a fraction. “What can I do for my big brother today?”
“I need to ask you something.” Caught in a quick tide of affection, Chris reached down and tugged the crown back to center of her head. “I was at the Hall of memory today.”
Lorna closed the book with a quick snap. She stood, dusting off the back of her long golden dress. “Why were you in the Hall of Memory?” she asked sharply.
Chris narrowed his eyes. Since the time they were children, he could always tell when his sisters were up to something. “What do you know?” he demanded.
Turning her back to him, Lorna replaced the heavy volume on the shelf. When she looked at him again, her face was a careful mask.
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” She brushed past him in a rush of crinkling fabric.
He grabbed her by the arm, jerking her to a stop. “Don’t lie to me Lorna.”
She pulled herself free. Frown lines pulled around her mouth and eyes. “What do you think you know?”
“I saw Grace and me. We were together, as if I’d known her for years, since the day she was born. But I know I just met her a few months ago. I saw us fighting Lilith together, even though I know I wasn’t there. I saw us dancing on the night of the Beltane Festival, but I don’t remember any of it.” He rubbed his face with both hands. “How is that possible?”
Lorna stared at him, her mouth a hard line. After a long moment, she motioned for him to follow her.
They moved through the tall bookshelves until they came upon a short arched door. Lorna pushed it open, revealing a chamber beyond. The room was round with one massive stained glass window that filtered light into the room in rainbow shards. The only furniture was a dark wooden writing desk with a matching chair and an ottoman of golden velvet.
“This is my reflection room,” Lorna explained. “It’s where I come to find peace, solace, and to clear my mind.”
Chris said nothing, taking a seat on the rigid chair.
Lorna sat gracefully across from him. Folding her hands in her lap, she looked up to the sky. “Hermes, please join us.”
Chris resisted the urge to shake the information from his sister. She knew something and was keeping tight-lipped about it, which only infuriated him more.
A minute later Hermes appeared in the room with a faint pop. His usual Hawaiian shirt and shorts were replaced by a black form-fitting wetsuit that dripped water onto the floor around his bare feet.
“What is it Lorna?” Hermes asked with irritation, his shaggy sun-bleached hair hanging in wet tangles at his neck. “I was surfing off the coast of Africa. Amazing swells this time of year.”
“Chris has been to the Hall of Memory,” she said, as if it was an explanation.
“Oh,” Hermes said in a tone that sounded like a cross between shock and fear.
His anger reaching its limit, Chris pushed off the chair and took the needed steps that brought him toe-to-toe with Hermes. “You two need to start explaining. Now!”
“Chris, please,” Lorna implored. “We are forbidden to speak of this.”
“If we do,” Hermes explained, “you will be trapped in Faerie forever. If we give you this truth and you ever leave this realm, you will die.”
Chris stepped back. “What are you talking about?”
“The choice is yours,” Hermes stated, frustration evident in his tone. “You know the consequences now. But remember, once said it cannot be undone.”
“Just tell me!” Chris demanded.
“Your memory was altered,” Lorna explained in a low voice. “By Mnemosyne.”
“Wait—What? Why?”
“Because, my friend, you didn’t survive the battle with Lilith,” Hermes explained. “Grace was somehow able to prevent your soul from crossing over. She revived you. When Hades found out, he came and claimed you.”
Chris sat back down, letting Hermes’ words sink in. The events he had witnessed in the Hall of Memory were real. It was his memory that was the lie. Emotions inside him warred for dominance. Relief, grief, anger, and dismay all ebbed and flowed in overlapping swells.
“Wait,” Chris said. “Then how am I alive? And why is my memory gone?”
“Grace went to the Underworld to get you back,” Lorna answered, a single tear rolling down her cheek. “She struck a bargain with Hades. Your life in exchange for your memories of her. He wanted it to be as if you had never met. It was her punishment, the price she had to pay for your freedom.”
“I was there,” Hermes offered in a gentle voice. “It was horrible, but Grace did it so you could come back here and be with your family. So you could have a life.”
Chris sat in stunned silence. All those times Grace cringed from him. All the lies she told him. She said she lost someone she loved, but the truth was she was just feeling guilty for loving him so little that she could bargain his very memories away to the God of the Dead. How could she claim to love him when she took the choice away from him? He never would have chosen to live a lie. Grace must have known that.
“The only ones who remember what really happened are those of us who were present when the deal was struck,” Hermes added. “Everyone else forgot. It wasn’t just you. And we were forbidden to tell you the truth or the deal would be forfeit and you would be reclaimed by Hades.”
“That’s why you have to stay here now.” Lorna’s tears fell freely. “No Gods may enter Faerie without invitation. As long as you stay here, you’re safe.”
Chris clenched his fists. “So now I am a prisoner, as well.”
He stood, pacing the floor. Raking his hand through his hair, he growled. Grace was hiding in Olympus. She abandoned him to his fate and ran away. Now he was trapped in Faerie. He could not even grab her by the arms and shake the truth out of her.
“What gave her the right? Who does she think she is, taking that away from me?”
“Chris, please,” Lorna begged. “I just wanted you home. And it was very hard for Grace.”
“Hard for Grace. Yes, I just bet it was hard for Grace. She lied to me for months. I thought—I thought she loved me.”
“Grace does love you,” Hermes snapped. “Make no mistake. It nearly destroyed her to lose you.”
“Who else knew about this?” Chris asked.
“As we said, only those who were present when the bargain was struck remembered. Myself, Lorna, James—”
Chris cut him off with a wave of his hand. “James? James knew about this?”
Of course, James knew. It was a clever plan, the ultimate way to ensure his victory. James stole Grace from him, convinced her to trade away his love like a bargaining chip in one of the Gods’ petty games. And the lies. For months she lied to his face about everything. How could he ever have fallen in love with her? Twice? It made his insides twist just to think about it. In the sea of rising emotions, a winner was becoming clear.
“I don’t want to hear anymore. I need to be alone.”
Chris turned to leave.
“Wait!” Lorna called. “Where are you going?”
He turned, giving her a curt nod. “To my room, your majesty, seeing as how I am now a prisoner there.”
“You aren’t a prisoner,” Lorna countered. “Please, Chris. Don’t shut me out.”
“Lorna, you are my sister, my kin,” Chris said. “And you’ve lied to me for months. You let Grace steal my memories. I will never forgive you. Any of you.”
With that said, he stormed out of the library.
* * * * *
CHAPTER 3
Men at some time are masters of their fates; the fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings. ~ Shakespeare
CHRIS awoke to a knock at his door.
He rolled to his feet and groaned. His body ached all over. His room was dark, the heavy drapes drawn against the sun.
Stepping across the clothes and clutter on his floor, he crossed the room and opened the door.
“Phoenix, what are you doing here?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“It’s happened,” she said, her green eyes shining. “I’ve been elected Queen. The coronation is tonight and—what is that smell?” She pinched her nose and exaggerated a gag.
Chris shrugged. He was the smell. It had been days since he had bothered to shower.
“Anyway.” A statuesque dark-haired beauty, Phoenix brushed past him, her mint green wings held high in excitement. “I know it would mean a lot to Lorna if you were there. I don’t know what happened between you, but I’ve never seen her like this.”
Chris said nothing.
Tiptoeing over a stack of dishes and empty bottles of mead cider, Phoenix pulled back one of the heavy drapes and let light filter into the room.
Chris blinked and raised his hand to shield his eyes. Was the sun always this bright?
“I’m going to contact Grace later,” Phoenix added as if it were an incentive. “To see if she’ll come.”
“I have other plans.” Chris snapped. He moved to another pile of debris beside his bed, searching for a half-full bottle he remembered dropping there.
“Really? Do they include locking yourself in your room and wallowing in your own filth? Because that’s not plans. That’s an intervention waiting to happen.” Phoenix picked a path back to the door. “Chris, you know you’re like family to me. But Lorna is your family. Like it or not. Someday this is all going to blow over, and you’re going to hate yourself for not going tonight. So get your stinky hide in the shower, put on some clean clothes, and come act like a big brother instead of a whiny little baby.”
Phoenix grabbed the knob and slammed the door, as she exited into the hall.
* * *
PHOENIX turned just in time to walk right into the brick wall that was Lynx.
He took a step back and gave a stiff bow. “Majesty.”
Phoenix could not help but think that men his size were not meant to bow. Lifting busses over their heads sure, but bowing? Not so much.
His blue-black hair had fallen into warm brown eyes. He wore his hair longer now. She fought back the urge to push the strands off his face.
“I’m not majesty yet,” she said. “And to you I will always be just Phoenix.”
He looked at her with those wide Unseelie eyes.
Before she could stop herself, Phoenix reached out and laid a hand on his bare shoulder. He wore only the simple tan leather pants and vest of a royal guard. The touch was familiar, but achingly formal. It was too much, or possibly too little. Either way, it hurt. So she dropped her hand back to her side.
“I wish to ask—” Lynx hesitated and cleared his throat. “That is, I request to remain as the Queen’s personal guard.”
Phoenix sucked in a breath. Only recently had she begun to reconnect with her old flame. Tiny embers of passion were already close to bursting into a full flame.
If he chose to remain as the Queen’s guard, then the rules were clear. It was strictly forbidden for a queen to be involved with one of her guards. To say it was taboo for a Seelie Sidhe and an Unseelie Sidhe to be together was an understatement. For a queen to fraternize with lesser Fae was unthinkable.
She swallowed the melon-sized lump in her throat. She could refuse his request. That much was within her power. But doing so would infer he was not worthy. It would shame Lynx and his entire family. She wanted to slap him, to curse him for putting her in that situation. He could be with her, if only he loved her enough to set aside his stupid pride.
Phoenix stepped close to him, leaning forward so her head rested on his broad chest. It was a pain she had known before. Years ago, she begged Lynx to leave Faerie with her and help raise Pandora’s daughter, Grace. He refused, choosing his duty over their love. Something inside her broke that day. She lost her faith in the idea of love and happy endings. Really, how could such a thing exist when it was denied to her?
She felt his strong arms slither around her, strong and warm. She didn’t ask to be queen. It was never her desire to rule. It was Lorna who had made the nomination, much to Phoenix’s surprise. And when asked to fulfill that sacred responsibility, there was only one answer.
Placing a soft kiss on the base of his neck, she pulled away and stood straight.
“Lynx,” Phoenix said in her most regal voice. “You and your family have served the royal house faithfully for centuries. I would never feel safer than with you at my side.”
His only reply was another formal bow.
Sweeping her long black hair over her shoulder, Phoenix turned and headed to the Fae Council chambers before Lynx saw the tears swimming in her eyes.
Philip Le Fae, Lorna and Chris’ father, who had been chosen to represent the Westland and the realm of the demi-Fae, waited in the Council Chamber. Phoenix had never met the man. As the emissary to the demi-Fae, he traveled constantly. Now he stood ready to greet the new queen. He looked very little like Chris, save for the coppery brown hair. His shoulders were slender, his face more round, and his eyes more deep set.
The other advisor was Lucinda, a young and clever Fae who represented the isles and eastern borderlands. Lucinda was petite for a Fae, with wiry yellow hair and lavender and yellow striped wings. The determined set of her chin and the fact that she had an unusual gift for dispute mediation made her a good choice. Both advisors sat in deep discussion with Lorna, who was spending her last day on the throne of Faerie.
As Phoenix entered the room, the advisors bowed and took seats beside the current regent.
Queen Lorna’s blue eyes were lackluster and her golden hair looked hastily coiffed. A slight droop in her golden wings just added to a general appearance of weariness.
As she took her seat opposite Queen Lorna, Phoenix could not help silently cursing Chris and his stubborn ways.
Before they could begin, there was a rap at the door.
Lynx popped his head in. “Milady, Hermes is here. He wishes to address the Queen.”
Lorna motioned for him to open the door. “Show him in.”
Hermes entered, for once wearing traditional Olympian robes, and offered a nod to the queen on the throne. “Lorna, I have a message from Lord Hades. He wishes you to send out the Fae known as Christopher Le Fae. I believe you know the terms of his reprieve have been violated.”
“Hermes,” Lorna said, getting to her feet. Her voice was thick with disdain. “Please inform Hades again that Christopher has sanctuary within the boundaries of Faerie and is not subject to the whims of an Olympian.”
Hermes eyes sparkled, as he gave her a formal bow and turned to leave.
“Wait, please,” Phoenix called. She moved from the table and pulled Hermes aside for a private moment. “How is Grace doing? She hasn’t contacted me in months.”
“Grace is…to be honest I have no idea,” Hermes said quietly. “We were getting together every so often. But lately Prometheus has been keeping her from the rest of the Gods. He says she needs time to adjust, but I don’t know. I have a bad feeling about the whole thing. Maybe you should speak to Prometheus directly. As the new Queen, you can demand a meeting.”