Page 51 of The Prince of Hidden Shadows
“Well, that explains your obsession with the painting—and why you wanted it back.”
Air rushes from me in a shudder, the breath I hadn’t realized I’d kept trapped—such a human thing to do, again. “It wasn’t an obsession. More a tribute to the man who taught me everything. He was brilliant.”
His lips twitch, a spark glinting at the corner. “Sure, not an obsession—but you’re not over him, are you? You’re still in love with him.”
The certainty of the statement hits hard. My neck stiffens as I register the involuntary hurt I’ve caused. He’s not so wrong about my feelings, but dead wrong about what they mean.
My thoughts drift to Eros. No one falls in love without his involvement, and he must have felt my connection with Willem. I roll my eyes, about to explain, but his hand migrates down my forearm, grounding me.
His fingers caress my pulse point, steady and deliberate. “Zagreus, why tell me this now?”
I meet his eyes with emotions that I’ve avoided revisiting. “Before leaving Princedelphia, you didn’t say anything about checking out or giving notice at the Café.” My gaze travels to his luggage. “Were you ever gonna tell me?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” he snaps, pulling his hand away.
Oh, gods, I’m fucking this up!
“I’m not sure what your plans are with the Monaco deal done, but I’m not ready to let you go, Théo.” I place my palm over his thumping heart.
“I hear you, Z. I’m here, aren’t I? But I don’t see what your past with Willem has to do with me, or why we need to map out the future… our future. It’s been a few months… You owe me nothing. Can’t we take each day as it comes?”
The fuck?
I freeze at his words and bitter tone when he mentions Willem—shouldn’t he know better?
I close my eyes for a beat, savoring his warmth, the ghost of his breath against my face.
Spit it out, Z!
Sleep forgotten, I open them again and capture his gaze.
“Look, Théo, I don’t mean to scare you, but it’s always been you. You carry Willem’s soul—that’s what drew me in. Maybe that’s why you’re linked to the painting. But I don’t love Willem anymore. I fell for you—the person you are. You share pieces of him, yes, but my love is foryou, and you alone.
“I’m the god of rebirth, yet for centuries, his soul vanished… along with my memories of him. Not so long ago, Eros told me it must have been cursed. Because Willem delayed his crossing of the Styx and stayed with me in human form for another lifetime, his soul was barred from the Underworld and neverhad a chance to be reborn. I begged Hecate for a way to survive my grief—she erased him from my memory. Fragments trickled back, bits I couldn’t fight. And because of all of that, Eros could never bring us back together.”
His expression softens, understanding seeping through. “Let me guess—until I showed up there… without warning?”
I nod, swallowing the knot in my throat.
“I should be rattled by all this,” he says. “But after seeing the Underworld, questioning my sanity seems overrated. Damn Eros—he must’ve felt it when I stood by the river.”
A short laugh escapes me as I kiss his forehead. “He did… before marking us as soulmates, even if I’m without a soul. Hades never forgave me for loving a mortal, who he sees as beneath our kind.”
“So, I shouldn’t expect to meet your parents anytime soon,” he teases, then frowns, and I can tell where his mind has wandered.
“My mother would be delighted to meet you,” I murmur, nudging my forehead to his as I speak. “Though I don’t see her often. She rules the seasons on Earth, moving between Mount Olympus and the Underworld. But… it could be arranged, if you’re willing.”
“Let’s keep our options open.”
I lower my voice. “Then tell me—what’s on your mind?”
Before he answers, his phone buzzes on the nightstand. He shifts, peeling back from me just enough to sit against the headboard, then twists to snatch it up. A few rapid taps, a ping, and another message flies out. A faint smile plays at his lipsduring the exchange, and my chest sinks with the unspoken guess of who’s on the other end.
At last, he sets the phone aside and turns back to me, his eyes steady as if picking up the thread of my question. My fingertips find his arm, tracing down the length of it.
“I’ve never been in a relationship, Zagreus. I’m not sure I’m boyfriend material…” He halts, and I ask for clarification.
“Who’s Noé to you, then?”
