Page 44 of The Prince of Hidden Shadows
I purse my lips, hoping it’ll redirect my troubled thoughts.
Drawing a comparison wouldn’t be fair. I’m convinced—if not well-aware—that they are one and the same.
That’s why Théo should be more mindful of the state of his soul; otherwise, I’ll lose him again, and I can’t allow it. Must be why I’ve failed to soothe the persistent pang in my chest.
As I move deeper into my quarters, Charon’s voice greets me before I see him. The corner of my mouth quirks up. My occasional former lover is welcome here—but entering uninvited isn’t typical.
“Zagreus.” His tone is light but probing. “How long have you been gone? I wondered if you were coming come back. Weren’t you due to report sooner?”
I open my arms and engulf him in a hug, to which he stiffens until I release him from my embrace.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” I reply, offering a tight smile.
He studies me with his dark, perceptive eyes, the faint glimmer of the Styx reflected in them.
My father grants him few breaks from his role as ferryman—small respites in a cycle as endless and exhausting as Sisyphus’s toil. They hold the simmering madness at bay without pulling Charon from his purpose. A pointless one at that… My friend once confessed his boat moves on its own. He says he deserves his fate; we all have burdens to bear, and I’m not privy to his penance.
“You’re different,” he points out, tilting his head. “Lighter, almost. Care to explain?”
“It’s nothing,” I rush to say, shrugging off his inquiry as I register why the hug threw him for a loop—too human.
“It’s someone,” he counters—his tone soft—then smirks. “Isn’t it?”
Replaying our last encounter, I realize Charon didn’t witness who Eros struck when he loosed that invisible arrow at me.
How could we have been so blind?
The irony isn’t lost on me—my duty is to guide souls through the Valley of the Hidden Shadows without exceptions. Until Eros stepped into my affairs many lifetimes ago, certain it was the right course. I had no choice but to follow, no choice but to coax one soul to linger by my side. And I fell. Hard.
Someone…
I’m the coward here, clinging to the path of least resistance. And now it feels too good to trust…
My soulmate—returned.
I never believed that another human could bear the same soul I cherish. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
“There’s no room for that in my life,” I snap, my voice cold while my insides burn with acid.
I’m such an asshole for misleading Charon when I’m a master of contradictions and nonsense. After all, I put him and Hecate at risk for my own egotistical benefit. In the name of our friendship, Charon interfered with the natural order of life and death, allowing me to postpone the journey of Willem’s soul: back to his human form, we would spend a lifetime together, until death do us part. His, that is.
Willem taught me to live. To paint. To love.
Once upon a time, meetinghimremade me. Losinghimhollowed me out. The grief, the despair, the certainty of his doomed fate drove me to my knees. If Father had seen me begging Hecate for mercy, stripped of pride and dignity, he would never have forgiven me. I implored. She pitied me. We sealed a deal. In sparing me another opportunity of crossing paths that soul again and tweaking my memory, she broke the law of the gods, but preserved my sanity.
That was then, this is now.
Discussing my love life with Charon—of all people—rings wrong. When it came up ages ago, the bastard called me a fool. Our on-again, off-again thing is over—ended the second I clicked with Théo’s soul. One day, I’ll have to come clean, but today isn’t that day.
He’s no fool, and maybe he does have a point. Over the years, as ferryman, he must have noticed Willem’s soul’s absence. How could it not resurface for its final crossing?
He knew how dear Willem had been to me, how precious his soul remained even after part of the spell lifted and his body finally failed. Charon must have understood it had been barred from the Underworld by a goddess’s hand. To me, it was as if my mortal lover’s soul had been erased, our bond severed beyond repair.
Then Théo’s unexpected journey to the Underworld crushed that certainty.
It stirred Eros’s memory of my connection to this particular human soul. At least, that was his explanation back at theRenversé Hotel. My heart, and the soul I do not possess, would always belong to one man.
“Nonsense… fine,” Charon mutters, willing to drop the issue. “Well, in that case, Hades is waiting for you in your chambers. Unusual, isn’t it?” His words are loaded, and I don’t miss the sly twist of his mouth. “Good luck.”
