Page 79 of Muzzled

He turned his attention to the pool in the middle of the room, to the faint ripples in the water.

He vividly remembered how sick he’d become when the twins had arrived, how they’d yapped and tugged at his tail while he lay at Hades’s feet, too weak to stand. He could even recall the hushed whispers between Dio and his master, the concern on Hades’s face mirrored in that of the God of Revelry.

She pinched the thread in her fingers and inched along it for a moment. “But here,” she continued. “Here is when Cerberus became one, and your lifeline began to strengthen again. Strengthen, and surpass that which it had been.” Sitting back in the chair, she resumed winding the spool. “Your line became flawlessly bound, a perfect weaving without the broken or frayed fibers found in others.”

Setting the thread aside, she reached down and attempted to loosen the leather straps of the muzzle.

“This contraption has been sealed by Hades,” she muttered, her nimble fingers tugging gently at it until she gave up. “An affront if I ever saw one.” Exasperated, she sat back and resumed her work. “It was this perfection which drew my attention, and I placed your line across many others. A fanciful hope, perhaps, that your proximity would benefit those lines born without the blessing of Tyche. Yours was, after all, an impeccable lifeline with no deviations, no intersecting paths. Unheard of. Such perfection spun faster than most, allowing me to look decades ahead of your future, unlike Boreus’s line, which has only recently begun spinning days in advance.”

The pile of thread in front of him became smaller and he stared down at it, straining his eyes in the bright light to find the end.

“So much became clear once we learned of Lachesis’s choice to interfere with Boreus.” Her voice became hard. “That poor boy’s thread was already in tatters. Her tampering nearly cost him his life, as well as that of his wife.”

Bo was alive. Sage was alive.

He repeated the mantra in his head over and over, allowing the repetitive words to numb his mind.

“So many destinies were altered through her actions. But she does not bear fault alone.”

Seph’s flawless face flashed through his mind and he snarled at the reminder she was very much alive while Micah’s blood was still on his tongue.

Atropos paused to stroke his head softly. “You and your brothers were born from desire, Orion. Hades desired a guard so fearsome all others would cower before him. Persephone desired light and beauty at her side while she ruled in darkness. Cerberus was born to be coveted, a sentry and a hunter others would tilt the world on its axis to capture.”

Her gnarled fingers returned to the spool. “Hades, Persephone, Dionysus, Lachesis, Hercules—they are but a handful of deities who sought to own a piece of Cerberus, carving and shredding at you three bit by bit until the beast they desired shattered. While Alexandros and Boreus have held fast against the onslaught, they did so only because their strength was anchored by you, Orion. You were the foundation from which all they are was built.”

Her words did nothing to ease the agony centered in his chest and permeating through every cell in his body. He was no anchor, not when he was unable to keep Micah from drifting away.

Atropos fell silent for a moment. “I had wondered how your thread would accept Boreus’s flawed love line. Whether the perfect bindings would give enough to unite.” Her hands stilled. “Initially, it didn’t. Your thread rejected the new line, weaving tighter to close in around the place your natural love line had been.”

The motionless air was strange, his time spent topside having made him accustomed to the ever-present movement of the wind.

Atropos patted his head. “My poor boy,” she sighed, scratching his ears. “When your thread finally embraced Bo’s love line, I rejoiced. Prematurely, I admit.” Easing his thread off the floor, she ran her thumbnail along it until it hit a nearly imperceptible divot, lowering it in front of him until he acknowledged it with a growl. “It was then I followed your love line to a thread I had placed into its sphere.”

Her hands disappeared from his peripheral for a moment, returning with a small black spool, the thread thick and coarse even to his untrained eye. “The Fates are not to interfere,” she repeated quietly, placing it on the marble by his paw. “But the consequences of Lachesis’s actions, those of the Olympians, and my own have brought us here tonight.”

He looked up at her, drawing the black spool closer to him.

“Your lines are in stasis right now, removed from the spindle fiber by fiber until I was sure I could restart their progress without interruption.” She shook her head and resumed winding his thread back onto the spool. “The fluttering of a butterfly’s wings brings with it the possibility of a tsunami. Your Micah’s thread was spun from an aged spindle, one too close to the cursed spindle of the Pirithous line. Perhaps, had I not placed your line alongside hers at the dawn of her existence…”

She trailed off, allowing him to think through the implications of her seemingly innocuous action. “Her line had been imperfect from the start, but when I returned to it, it had tangled irreparably with that of the Pirithous. As the cursed line began to take over, I snipped the fibers out, but they were so interwoven into her existence, it did little more than extend her humanity by a few weeks.” She looked at him pointedly. “A few precious weeks.”

Laying his head on the beautiful, imperfect thread, he turned his attention to the water again, a numbing darkness overtaking his rage.

“The games of the gods broke you, Orion. Perhaps beyond repair,” she whispered, her aged voice hoarse. “None of us truly believed you could be destroyed until we bore witness. But while we cannot undo that which has been done, perhaps we can find another way.”

Atropos lowered herself to the floor and wound the last of his line, bringing it close to her eyes as she separated a thin piece and slipped the spool into her pocket with those of his brothers. “The Pirithous curse which drove your fate and hers was fulfilled by Bo’s love line when it became your love line. Tonight, we will find out how powerful Fate truly is.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Ryan opened oneeye and assessed the encroacher before closing it again, ignoring Persephone’s hopeful smile.

“Still?” she asked Atropos, the swishing of her skirts growing nearer. “Has he eaten anything at all these past three days?”

The old Fate’s hand dropped to the leather clasps of his muzzle. “Perhaps if your husband would remove the restraints, he may.”

His mistress sighed, her scent drawing too close to him, and he growled in warning. “Perhaps if he wouldn’t react unpleasantly, we could consider it.” She retreated swiftly, the sound of her feet moving toward the reception room doors. “Send for me if anything changes. Please.”

Atropos waited until the doors slammed shut before she spoke. “Who precisely does your mistress think I should send? Charon?” Her tone was clipped, her disdain for the spoiled Persephone dripping from every word. “This muzzle is demeaning for a protector of your stature.”

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