Page 19 of The Prince of Hidden Shadows
Scanning his surroundings—checking if we’re out of earshot?— his light brown gaze captures my darker one again. He’s fucking hot.
I inhale sharply, refraining the urge to pounce while we’re having a serious conversation. “You see, I can’t forget I have to swipe an infamous painting and deliver it to my client soon.” His expression twisting in confusion, he breaks eye contact. “Why did I say that?” His hand flies over his appetizing mouth for a second as if realizing he’s said too much. “Oh my God, I’m so fucking stupid.”
I cringe. In my world, it’s gods—plural. Once again, I hold back. This isn’t the time to speak. I need to hear him out.
He parts his lips, and soon he’s gawking. “The painting… Holy shit…” Again, I cringe at the word “holy,” but keep my mouth shut. “This…” He gestures around us. “This scenery looks exactly like it.” He snatches my wrist, strengthening his hold on me. “How did I miss it? How is this possible? How?”
My heart skips a beat. There’s plenty of art depicting the Underworld, but not this exact location. “Are you talking about the painting supposedly based on theDivine Comedythat disappeared ages ago?”
“Do you meanHidden Shadows?” Spot-on, although your accurate question, dear Théo, fills me with glee, hope, and fear.“It’s breathtaking. I saw it today and?—”
Did I hear him correctly?I can’t speak. I can’t breathe. I just can’t, so I nod. Eventually, all I can say is one word. One stupid word. One hopeful word.
“Where?”
Chapter Eight
DARK NECESSITIES
Théo
Swiveling my head to take in the area once again, I catch my breath at the insanity of it all. “Hidden Shadows…” I murmur. The painting. The place. The prince.
WTF?
The eerie glow of a massive beach—for lack of a better word—pulls me into a scene out of a dystopian movie. I force down the lump in my throat, anticipating I’m about to be dragged to the villain’s lair. Except the so-called villain is facing me, and Zagreus in his breezy summer suit doesn’t fit the part. Rational or not, the same question loops through my head. But what’s the point?
Zagreus registers my renewed panic but doesn’t press. “Come on, let’s take a walk, shall we?” he suggests, voice low.
Idly strolling away from the ferryman and the embankment with Zagreus by my side, I stare at my feet. Ashen dust, onyx pebbles,and jagged, obsidian-like stones quietly crunch underfoot. When I got here, I’d been so wrapped up by this otherworldly experience that I discarded oppressive details.
The pools of stagnant, inky water absorbing instead of reflecting light, and the underlying note of something burnt and acrid. The waves that slosh and lap in slow, unsettling rhythms, as though weighed down by unseen hands pulling at the current. The thick metallic tang that lingers in the air, like rust and decay. My chest should be filled with suffocating dread, but it isn’t. Do I have Zagreus’s potent presence to thank or am I going crazy?
At this point, my goal is simple: get through this journey unscathed—memory intact, all body parts accounted for—and return to where I came from.
For the first time, I’m not sure who I’m more afraid of—him or myself—and whether anything I thought I knew matters.
Does this beautiful yet odd guy have the actual power to alter life as I know it, in the blink of an eye?
I can’t wrap my head around his Greek god explanation, and I’m sure I’m hallucinating as we speak, but he sounds so serious. Rejecting my wayward feelings for him would be the coward’s way out, and that’s not me. I’m eager to embrace everything that this stranger triggers in me. The good. The bad. And the crazy. Most of all, right now, I hate how he shakes my confidence in my own game. Never got busted before—so why’s it gotta be this guy?
“Théodore? Don’t overthink this.” Zagreus’s husky voice jolts me back to the now. He stops dead in his tracks, and I comply. “You okay?” With worry laced in his tone, his big hand settles on my left shoulder, somehow grounding me.
A shiver runs down my spine under his uncanny touch.
As if someone has just splashed me with ice-cold water, my shoulders tense—then gradually relax as heat begins to spread across my skin. I can only hope the gloom of the Underworld masks the flush creeping up my cheeks until I get my bearings. My reaction to Zagreus is baffling as everything I’m going through, but I welcome it rather than fight it.
The contradicting sensations heighten my senses, and I become hyperaware of his presence. His reality. His home.
I suck in a breath, absentmindedly glancing back at the souls of dead people embarking on their final trip. “I am now... I think.” With that, I reevaluate my initial impression of the nearby river. It’s a somewhat soft and comforting sound. “Thank you.” Why am I even thanking him—for his mere touch that soothed me within seconds? And yet, I finally stop overanalyzing everything and concentrate on his initial question. “If you must know,Hidden Shadowscan be admired at the Princedelphia Metropolitan Museum.”
His mouth gapes, and he tightens his hold on my shoulder before freeing me with an apologetic smile. Is he now realizing that he had his hand on me? Too late, though, another wave of heat courses through my skin and leaves goosebumps in its wake.
What is he doing to me?
“It has to be a fake, Théo.” Sighing, he closes his eyes for a split second. “I don’t believe in coincidences. This painting was painted ages ago and vanished from the face of the Earth for so long. I can’t believe that it would resurface at this exact moment.”
“Look, I have no idea where the painting was before I was introduced to it.”
