Page 91 of Seduced

She had stopped dancing to talk to Poppy, and sat by her as they watched the rest of the girls move gracefully like a flock of elegant swans across the dance floor of the great hall.

“I am here if you ever want to talk,” Rania said, “but for now, you need to think. I shall only say one more thing: I am not without sin, far from it. But I do believe in a God of mercy, forgiveness and love. A God for sinners rather than saints. And I think that it would benefit you to believe in such a God yourself. You seem to be in need of all three—mercy, forgiveness and love. All people are, but us more than all people.”

People like us, Poppy thought.A God for people like us.

A God she would have to get to know all over again, from the very beginning, on her own.

A happier thought had not occurred to her in years.

…

Night came around again, and with it, whispers.

The great hall was abuzz with speculation and everyone was gossiping that Hades was brewing something, but no one seemed to know what it was. The information differed vaguely, from rumors of an upcoming winter-themed ball, to a supposed invitation of the British militia to the Hell Club for a massive game of whist. Poppy knew that the truth fell wildly far from either of those rumors, but she got swept up in the general excitement.

The night was still young and Poppy, Rania and the dancers popped down to the kitchens for a spot of dinner before the dancing started. A few of the guards joined them, and they all happily sat down with the servants, stuffing pie in their mouths with little ceremony, when Poppy jumped from the stool she was sharing with Rania, and shushed everyone.

“Did you hear that?”

She had heard it, loud and clear:

A splash.

“Hear what, love?” Rania asked.

No one else had heard it. They insisted it was her imagination, and then began to tease her that she had been dipping in the cook’s rum. But she heard it again.

While the others resumed their eating and gossiping, Poppy slipped from the room and followed the noise.

For the first time, it occurred to her that she might have developed some sort of acute oversensitivity to sound—or possibly to every sense—due to constantly living in a state of terror for the past six years.

That was why she kept hearing sounds from several rooms away and feeling so anxious about them that she had to discover their source.

Shuddering at the thought, she pressed on, following the splash.

It led her down several flights of stairs, until she heard the sound of water clearly. The distinct smell of enclosed, still waters met her nostrils, and the walls around her turned from the beautiful paneling of the club to the dark, jutting rocks of London’s bedrock: She recognized the cave at once.

She was at Hades’ infamous underground lake.

It looked entirely different from the dark, silent water Hades had taken her on in his little boat days ago. This time there were lanterns and torches illuminating the cavernous ceiling, the surface of the lake on fire with orange light.

Two small barges were rowing across the lake, already so far from the shore as to be small dots in the darkness. Their oars moved so vigorously that they raised big waves, splashing across the expanse of water, the swells eventually breaking at the shore, near her feet.

That was the sound that had travelled all the way up to the kitchens.

She could not tell how many people were on the barges, or who they were, but the boats were two, gliding close to each other on the water. Once they reached the small opening in the other side of the cave, one of them disappeared, escaping the confines of the Underworld’s lake, and sailed out into what she supposed was the Thames. Within seconds, it quite disappeared from sight, and only one small boat remained behind it on the water.

The remaining, smaller barge turned immediately around and started rowing back to the shore. Poppy quickly hid in acrevice between the rocks, not wanting to be discovered spying on Hades, if indeed it was he inside the barge.

And then, everything happened so quickly, there was hardly time to react.

It truly seemed to happen within the blink of an eye.

The barge was nearly upon the shore, and Poppy could see Hades’ tall, slim form on the boat a black silhouette against the rocks. It was close enough now that Poppy could discern his willowy build and long hair, his eyes shining like stars as he concentrated on rowing quickly across the water.

He hates it, doesn’t he? He hates the water.

‘I can’t swim myself, but the water is twice my height…’

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