Page 79 of The Queen & the King

Why do all the Primordials speak so vaguely and dreamily? Not everything needs to be a metaphor.

I flex my fingers. “Will you contain it?”

“Under one condition,” Nyx says.

My brows furrow, locking eyes with her. What could she possibly want in exchange?

“Can you get my son to visit? I miss him terribly.”

It is not what I expected her to ask. As the Reaper, Thanatos is constantly being summoned to ferry souls to the Underworld. I suppose that leaves little time for visits to his parents. I nod and say, “Thanatos, I summon you.”

Thanatos appears, bowing his head, his face hidden by his cloak like always. “My king.”

Nyx glides to him, and before he can squirm away, she tosses his hood back. Thanatos’s tattoos move over his body, depicting various scenes of death. Normally they hover above his skin, a part of him but somehow independent. The most noticeable is the one transposed over his face. It is a detailed skull that looks like a transparent mask, the shadow of his handsome features visible beneath it—the skeletal reaper.

At his mother’s approach, they retreat, and she kisses her son’s cheeks. The Reaper blushes all the way to the roots of his white hair. Even his short, sharp horns peeking through the silky strands glow pink. Nyx cups his face, and the black drains from his eyes, revealing the natural bright green of his irises. I don’t think I’ve ever seen his real eyes. The green is so vibrant, so… young. It’s not what I expected.

The Reaper looks wildly uncomfortable at his mother’s affection.

“You promised you would visit more,” Nyx admonishes him. “Yet your father and I have not seen you since your last visit with our queen.”

My brows shoot up,our queen. It drops so easily from the Primordial’s lips as if it belonged there.

“I’ve been busy. Katie and Nem have been to see you.” Thanatos turns a deeper shade of red beneath his tan. Even covered beneath his cloak, he maintains the dark tan of theMediterranean. It marks him as one of the Greek pantheon, the people who first thought us into existence.

“It would not do to neglect parents who love you,” I speak softly. “There are far worse things.”

Like being imprisoned by your father and having your memory erased by your mother.

Nyx cups her son’s cheek, smiling. “Go in and see your father. I need to stop our king from blowing up half of the universe.”

My brows shoot up,our king.It’s odd to hear from Nyx. Thanatos pulls his hood up with a deep sigh before going deeper into the halls, leaving Nyx and me alone in the domed entrance.

“Are you sure about this?” I watch Nyx, her starry eyes focused on me, reflecting the painted night sky.

“Like Demeter, you are harboring powers that do not belong to you. They are destroying you both.” I bristle slightly at the comparison. “Besides, they should be returned to their true owner. We do not have a choice.”

Nyx glides across the marble, holding her slender hands out to me. I pause before taking them. Her hair blows back softly at first, but the wind soon picks up. A gale surrounds us, whipping and whirling faster and faster. I hunch my shoulders as the cyclone becomes impenetrable. Nyx’s hands tighten on mine, and the wind yanks on me.

I close my eyes, blocking out everything and focusing on letting go.

I need to do this for myself, releasing everything. The vines tighten on my arms, thorns digging into me, not wanting to let me go.

The fall. The ascent. The war.Everything flashes through my mind: the past, present, and even the haziest memory of a dream filled with Gods of Fate. I grind my teeth, the vines still curling around me, sliding around my neck like a noose.

Let go.

The darkness is clinging to my emotions, my hidden impulses, repressed memories, and unmanaged trauma. It has dug deep into everything I hid inside that obsidian box and pretended didn’t exist.

Do it for yourself.

Nyx’s power surrounds me, the vines loosening their hold slightly, unable to fight the gale -force winds around me. Sweat beads and drips down my face, the effort to detach my emotions from the power all-consuming.

Darkness is not inherently evil. Just as light is not inherently good.

Nyx’s words from weeks ago ring in my head. The wind tunnel tightens around us, my hair whipping with it. A single vine is ripped from me, thrown to the spinning wind. An overwhelming scent of roses in fog follows.

“Persephone,” I whisper.

---