Page 75 of Until Death
“No,” Eros says with a deep sigh.
“Good,” his brother says, handing him a small box. “Then you know what is expected of you.”
Without waiting for his brother’s response, Anteros ushers him into the room. Closing the door softly behind him, I am left alone with Eros.
After a pause, Eros turns to me. He winces as if sensing my pain and I’m reminded of the cuts that cover me, and the glass that’s still embedded in a number of them.
Though the pain is still there, it is little more than a dull throb … so long as I sit still.
“Here, let me try to help you,” Eros says, crossing to set the small box on the table beside the bed. I say nothing as he opens it and begins pulling out various items.
“What is this trial, Eros?” I ask, flinching at how unsubtle my question is. “What am I supposed to do?”
Eros doesn’t answer as he comes to crouch before me. I frown, chewing my lip in thought as I try to puzzle out how to get him to talk to me about it.
Silence fills the room as he wets a bit of clean cloth with something from a small vial. Pressing it to a cut, a hiss of pain escapes me. He gives me a soft look before pressing slightly harder.
“Am I going to face Death in the trial?”
Again, he says nothing, this time giving me a look that practically begs me to stop with the questions.
“Is there some larger purpose behind this trial? What does a Trial of Love entail? Eros, please.”
His continued silence grates on me, and I can’t understand why he refuses to answer my questions ...
Until it dawns on me that he may not be allowed to speak of the trial.
“You can’t tell me about it can you?”
He shakes his head.
Of course.
Frustration washes over me as I press my lips together.
Carefully, he sets about cleaning the rest of my wounds. He’s surprisingly gentle as he pulls the glass from my wounds.
The silence between us stretches on, broken only by the soft sounds of Eros working. I can't help but wonder what he's thinking, what he's feeling.
As he finishes cleaning the last of my cuts, he stands and starts to turn away. I reach out for him, catching his wrist, and he freezes.
“What’s wrong, Eros?”
Slowly, he turns to look at me, his expression pained.
“I am sorry.”
“For what?”
He lets out a heavy sigh.
“For getting you into his mess. I should have known better than to even suggest sending you to the ball to seduce Hades. I should have—”
“Stop.” His eyes widen slightly as I cut him off. “This is my own doing. My own choices led me here. I am the one who was foolish enough to make a deal with Death. I should have known better than to believe I could take fate into my own hands.”
Eros shifts uncomfortably at this. Narrowing my eyes, I watch him for a moment, but even in his blindness he won’t quite meet my gaze.
“What is it, Eros?”
