Page 75 of The Ruin of Eros

“A chance,” I repeat. “A good chance?”

Her gaze moves away: she does not like my demand for guarantees. She gives a tiny shrug.

“A chance,” she says.

A chance.

My heart’s beating fast. The quiver of arrows is still in my hand. I replace it, very gingerly, against my back.Mortals don’t play with the gods, a voice inside reminds me.

Or if they do, they lose.

There is silence then, as if she believes we have reached the end of our time. And indeed, I see that two guards are walking this way, ready to escort me out. No one is allowed too much of the oracle’s time. But I can’t make myself rise. My legs won’t do it.

“You said my path was with Eros,” I say quickly. “That he would aid me, if I aided him. You mean that…that if I succeed in this, he will help me find my family?” My chest tightens. “Iwillsee them again?”

She inclines her head. It seems a long time before she speaks.

“They are alive. But according to my sight, you will not see them again as a mortal.”

Her voice is soft with understanding, and my throat swells. A grief I can’t swallow. The blue hills blur. Her words are lodged in my chest.

I am not to see them again in this life.

I must wait out its end, when we are reunited in Hades’ realm. I feel weightless, strangely numb.

I have always known that I must wait until the hereafter to meet my mother. But I had not thought to wait until then to see the rest of my family, too. I had thought to have their companionship through much more of this life.

I bow my head. The tears do not come. I feel them inside me, but they do not come.

“I will grieve them,” I say quietly, and the oracle nods.

“Such are our lives, daughter of Sikyon.”

I stand up, stumbling, as the guards draw in. Before they reach us, she glances my way again.

“You said now that mortals have only prayer, and no power.” Her eyes find mine. “I counsel you to remember, prayer may be power too.”

Her words tumble around me as the guard’s hand closes around my arm.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

My head is pounding so hard, I don’t know how I make it back down the hill. A priest is there to guide me, but nothing is more than a blur.

Mount Olympus.

I am no hero. No god-child or great warrior. Herakles might very well ascend to the home of the gods, but me? I have no strength or skill to best whatever lies in those hills—whatever guardians have been placed there for the very purpose of keeping mortals like me out.

Fate, the oracle said.But what is it, in the end? Perhaps it means only the path I choose; perhaps the path I choosebecomesmy fate. Is that what Eros meant, before?

“Psyche…”

A soft voice pulls me away from the pounding thoughts inside my head. I blink, and see that Melite Georgiou is nearby. We are in a small, sandy enclave at the back of Delphi’s hill, a sort of antechamber, it seems, for the pilgrims who have heard their answers. We are allowed to wait here, I suppose, before venturing back out into the clamor. I look around at the other faces, the expressions of those recovering from what they have learned. Some look merely dazed, one or two are grieving. But Melite’s face looks peaceful, at least.

“She tells me Hector does well in Hades’ realm.” Her voice is low with emotion. “She says he made the journey with great courage for one so young, and that he was well received there. She says his uncle has claimed care of him in the Underworld.” She takes a deep, unsteady breath. “I asked if he was sad there,if he missed me. She said that it’s different, there. That there is no sadness, the way we know it here.” Her eyes find mine. “I suppose that means he doesn’t miss me. I suppose…I suppose I am glad of that.”

I don’t know what to say. I take her hand, briefly.

“And you?” she says.

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