Page 78 of Patron of Mercy

Lach laughed aloud. “No. Not a lick of magic in my blood, and you know it.” His gaze slipped back to the god beside him. “But Thanatos has plenty for both of us.”

His father offered him food that Philon’s wife had begun to serve around the fire. He felt Thanatos tense at his side, but Lach held out a hand to refuse the plate. Everyone there knew what happened when Persephone had eaten those pomegranate seeds, and Lach had no intention of getting caught. “No, thank you.”

Markos smiled softly and shook his head. “Of course not. Thanatos?”

Thanatos also refused, though he didn’t have to. Lach thought he looked vaguely ill, which was impossible. Well, impossible outside of a boat.

Eventually, Lach extricated them with the promise that he would visit again. The only one who pressed for him to stay was Glykera, who only wanted more stories.

For once, their disinterest in keeping him there didn’t make Lach feel unwanted. Philon and his father had accepted him without a pause. His mother had been overjoyed to see him grown. They hadn’t asked for explanations for his behavior, because they didn’t need them. If Lach had been selfish or disappointing, it hadn’t seemed to quell their love for him.

And now, if they did not ask for more, Lach trusted it was because they understood he had what he needed already. In all this time, Elysium hadn’t been a place for him. Even seeing them now, that did not change. He was happy to know that they had lived well, and would like to see them again, but he could not settle there.

By the time they stepped away, the light had faded. A facsimile of stars scattered overhead. Lach sighed as they stepped through the sand.

“There’s a place for you here,” Thanatos said softly. “If you want it.”

Lach licked his lips. He knew he couldn’t say no to Elysium just for Thanatos’s sake; he’d never accept that. For once, he tried to measure his words before he spoke them.

“I love Philon. And I love our parents,” Lach began. Already, Thanatos’s face was beginning to fall. He tried to cover his disappointment, so Lach tugged on his hand and pulled him to a stop. “And yes, this place could be mine if I wanted ease and comfort. But when have I ever taken the easy way out of things?”

Thanatos scoffed then, rolling his eyes and ready to tell Lach he was being ridiculous.

Lach stepped into him, cupping his cheek firmly and dragging Thanatos around to look into his eyes. “There is no version of paradise for me without you. I couldn’t be happy here.”

Thanatos’s eyes swam with concern and disbelief that Lach didn’t know how to brush away.

“I don’t want this,” he insisted. “I don’t want to live among the ghosts of my brother’s family. All that evidence of a life well lived. I’m happy for him, but I want my own. You and Mis—people who chose me and my own family to grow with.” Thanatos’s lips had begun to tremble. Lach smoothed the pad of his thumb across them. “I spent so long wanting people of my own, thinking I’d spent my only shot on my fear and ego. Thanatos”—his voice choked—“you’re it for me. I want forever with you. All the messes, all the mistakes, and all the make-up sex.” That, finally, got the hint of a smile from Thanatos. Lach full-on grinned. “So, yeah, if you’ll have me, that’s what I want. No contest.”

Thanatos nodded, his locks sliding against the back of Lach’s hand. Lach drew him in and kissed him soundly and thought, for maybe the first time, that the world might have more blessings for him than he thought.

“Let’s go home,” Lach whispered. “I want to taste ambrosia, and maybe something sweeter.”

Epilogue

Thanatos didn’t frequent Dionysus’s bar. Hysteria was lovely, he was sure, for a dark, loud club with flashing lights and drunken, dancing mortals, but none of that was Thanatos’s speed. As Dionysus would probably tell him, his only speed was slow.

On this evening, a Tuesday in April, the place had been closed down for a private party, and it was perfect. The lights were on and the bartender was serving fruit punch. Okay, there was a version that had rum in it for Lach and the other scoundrels, but the fact that there was a fruit-only version was an improvement from the alcohol-heavy stuff that Thanatos didn’t see the point of.

That wasn’t actually the part that mattered. What mattered was that most of the people Thanatos loved were there, together, celebrating. Dionysus had called it a celebration of the return of spring.

Appropriately enough for that, Persephone and her children had come. The goddess was on her fifth or sixth glass of punch and telling everyone who would listen about how, sure, she was doing her job on the surface, but tonight, she was going to go home and sleep in her own bed, with her husband.

Her youngest, Lysandros, was following behind her, making sure she didn’t tip anything over or drop her cup, which she’d tried to do at least twice. Also, cringing whenever she referred to his father’s prowess in bed. He was shooting dark looks at his fiancé, who looked amused, rather than horrified, at his future mother-in-law’s antics.

The party was so far beyond a celebration of the true return of spring, though.

It was a party welcoming Lach to their number, now that he was truly a god, not simply a mortal who had made a questionable choice. Most of the gods seemed not simply accepting, but downright pleased to have him.

Hebe had offered the ambrosia without hesitation when Gaia and Thanatos had gone to her together. She’d given a crack of her bubblegum and rolled her eyes. “Oh please. You two never ask for anything. Have him. Have a dozen dirty pirates. Pirates are still in, anyway.”

And with that, Lach was going to be a part of forever. Thanatos might have fantasized about such a future the first time they’d been involved, but he hadn’t imagined it possible.

It was also a party welcoming Gaia back to the fold. It wasn’t that she’d truly left, but she had spent the better part of many millennia slumbering.

“It’s time,” she had confided to him after they had retrieved the ambrosia. “We’ve been allowing others to control our destiny for too long. It’s time for both of us to take it back and begin choosing our own future.”

Somehow, he felt as though she didn’t simply mean the newly formed duality of Gaia and Martina Paget, but both them and Thanatos. It was true—he’d been drifting for a long while, letting time pass. It was time to grab those moments and make them mean something.

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