Page 114 of The Court of the Dead
She stared up through the leaves of the sycamore above her. If she just concentrated on the clear blue winter sky, she could almost convince herself she wasn’t trapped inside an invisible cage. She might think this was one of the most beautiful days of her life. Beyond the boundary, people were going in and out of the museums, or jogging by, or walking their dogs. It all looked sonormal.
Nothing about Hazel’s life had been normal. What must it be like, she wondered, to not have to think about vengeful judges from the Underworld, or how you were going to save your friends and possibly the entire world?
Exhaustion pressed against her consciousness. She wanted to doze off, but her mind buzzed with anxiety. She didn’t like feeling trapped like this. She wished she had some demigod power that could shatter the boundary.
She was so deep in thought that she didn’t notice Asterion until his shadow fell over her face.
“Do you need a nap?” he asked. “I can watch over you.”
Hazel sat up. “Thanks, Asterion. I do, but…I don’t know if I could sleep. My mind is racing at a thousand miles an hour.”
He nodded. “I am familiar with this feeling. I spent much of my time inside the Labyrinth wrestling with my thoughts.”
She grimaced. “I hadn’t even considered that. Here I am, freaking out over being confined for twenty-four hours, and you experienced alifetimeof this.”
Asterion sat on the ground in front of the bench so they were eye to eye with each other. “Do not denigrate or minimize your experience, Hazel. Being stuck like this…it is always distressing, no matter the duration.”
Her mind dredged up an unwelcome memory. “You’re right. The last time I felt so trapped…it was right before I died.”
She didn’t share the story with many people, but she told Asterion about the cavern on Resurrection Island in Alaska, where Gaea had ordered her and her mother, Marie, to build a spire of gems that was supposed to give birth to Alcyoneus, Gaea’s oldest giant son. Hazel had worked herself to exhaustion, summoning precious stones from the earth day after day.
“I felt so powerless,” she said. “I couldn’t break my mother out of Gaea’s spell. Eventually, I had to collapse the whole cavern and sacrifice my life to stop it all.”
Asterion rubbed his thumbs and forefingers, as if missing the feel of his knitting needles. “We have a lot more in common than I previously thought. I see my own anger and sadness in your story. And in feeling like a pawn of someone else.”
“I think that’s why what Pirithous is doing enrages me so much,” she said. “I’m being judgedagain!” Heat rushed to her face. “I hate this.”
“I do as well,” said Asterion.
She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them. “You know, it just occurred to me how much I’ve been trying to prove to the world that I’m a good person. Even a few minutes ago, before you came back, that’s what I was thinking about: how I could prove to all the mythics here that I’m good and on their side.”
“But that is understandable. Many of them view demigods with suspicion.”
“It’s more than that, though. I thinkI’vebelieved that I’m not a good person for a long time. You know, when I was a kid, I was made fun ofallthe time. By kidsandadults.”
Asterion grunted. “Why?”
“I was judged for who my mother was, for what I looked like, for not knowing my father. It’s been the same thing over and over my whole life. So many people don’t seem to want to get to know who I really am. They decide who I am for me.”
She couldn’t help it anymore. Her body shook as she let loose a sob. Then she quickly wiped away the tears on her face and tried her best to hold back the rush of emotions she was feeling. “I can’t believe I’m crying in front of the former Minotaur,” she said.
Asterion laughed heartily. “I feel honored. Please do not resist expressing yourself. I have spent almost my whole life putting forth an image that was not true. I thought I did not have a choice.”
“I know what you mean. Even looking back, I’m not sure there was anything I could or would have done differently. And more time in the Underworld wouldn’t have changed that.”
He nodded. “You are not the only one who ruminates on their past. I still wonder if I am ‘good.’ If the things I do now can ever make up for what I did when I was the Minotaur.”
“But did you have any other choice back then?”
“Perhaps not,” he said. “I could have chosen death, I suppose, but that was not my inclination. I felt I still had something to offer the world.”
“You do!” said Hazel. “And I didn’t want to choose death either. But I also didn’t want to have to act like a monster to survive.”
“Your hand wasforced,” he said sharply. “But no longer. You and I…we are free.”
“Free? Even in this cage?”
Asterion shrugged. “I no longer have the responsibilities and expectations that come with being something that was created to terrify. I can pursue my passions. I can make friends. I can show other mythics that they are allowed to be something else.”
