Page 93 of Those Fatal Flowers

It’s not the ferryman of the dead. A gasp escapes from the back of my throat as the pieces fall together: the warm red lips, the cascading black curls of hair, the unmistakable vibrant emerald eyes.

“Hello, Thelia.”

Proserpina’s voice is so gentle that tears spring to my eyes, and, without thinking, I throw my arms around her, sobbing heavily into my queen’s shoulder. Proserpina wraps her arms around me, too, pulling me into a tight embrace.

“My dear, dear friend. At first I feared I’d never see you again, and then I feared I’d see you too soon.”

“I’m so sorry.” I choke on the words I couldn’t say when we last talked, right before I left Scopuli. “I’m so sorry, that day at the pool—”

“We were children, Thelia,” Proserpina whispers. “Nothing you could have done would have changed my fate.”

“But I told him,” I whimper, lifting my head to look her in the eyes. “I told him where you were because I was afraid.”

Proserpina’s hands cup my face, and she nods, knowingly. “He was coming for me no matter what. I’m glad he didn’t hurt you in the process.”

“I can’t forgive myself…”

“But I forgive you, Thelia.” She brushes the tears from my cheeks. “I forgave you that very day.” The words hit me like rocks to my chest, and the blow is so hard that I fall to my knees. Proserpina descends alongside me, holding me as I cry, as the centuries of guilt and shame and loss pour out ofmy soul. She runs her fingers through my hair; she coos gently into my ear.

“I forgive you,” she repeats, again and again, until my sobs slow and there are no tears left.

“Why did you eat those seeds, Proserpina?”

A coy smile dances across her lips, a beautiful and dreadful thing to behold. “You never did believe that I was tricked.”

“Not at first, no. I feared that you hated me enough to make sure you’d never have to see me again. But as the years passed, I started to wonder if the reason I didn’t believe it was because that meant what happened to you wasn’t entirely my fault.”

“It wasn’t, Thelia. You understand the thrill of finding power in an unexpected place more than most. I was always going to be someone’s wife, but to be the Queen of Shadow is to be my mother’s equal. As I held those pomegranate seeds in my hand, I felt the thrum of fate. I saw all the things I could do with that power, and I knew I belonged here. You’ve felt something similar recently, haven’t you?”

I think of who I left behind, of how close our fates came to truly threading together. “What will happen to my sisters? To Cora? Will they be all right?”

Her eyes sparkle knowingly at Cora’s name. She recognizes the longing in my face; does she remember when that same expression was directed at her? But when Proserpina speaks, her voice holds no jealousy, only glittering possibility. “Don’t you want to see for yourself?”

The tears come again, because I do, more than anything. But I saw the twist of the blade in my gut, I felt what it meant to hit those rocks. “Thomas…my body…”

“My darling Thelia, don’t you understand?”

The Queen of the Underworld, my first love, breathes the words that follow into my hair like they’re an incantation.

You’ve already sacrificed enough.

23

Now

For a few painful, blinding moments, there’s only white. My eyelids rush to blink it away, and then, slowly, shapes emerge from the vastness.

There are two young women, one with black hair and one with blond, crying with relief. No monstrous wings grace their backs; they kneel beside me on human legs. Pisinoe slowly lifts me to a seated position, and Raidne brushes the blood-soaked hair from my eyes.

Oh, gods, the blood—the gash. The fall. My hands rush to my gut, but there’s no gaping wound to find. Only the soft flesh of my stomach, perfectly intact. I run my palms over my arms, my legs, expecting to discover bones protruding through the skin. But I’m no longer broken. Proserpina has remade me, remade us, just as she promised she would.

My sisters speak excitedly, but I can’t hear their words over the ringing in my ears. When something behind Pisinoe catches her attention, Raidne follows her gaze.

My eyes instinctively trail my sisters’. They push their bodies away from me, parting to reveal someone new.

A sea of raven curls. Cheeks stained pink by salt—bothfrom the sea and from tears. Trembling slender fingers that reach out to just barely brush my face, as if they fear contact will cause me to vanish.

Large green eyes, wide as if beholding a miracle. And finally, soft red lips parted in awe.

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