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world before.
I try to stifle a grateful smile. But you botched your quest.
Then who better to make sure you don t do the same? Dax puts his hand on my shoulder. Haden,
he says, lowering his voice, the fact that Killian agreed to letting you take a guide and my hearing
what the Oracle said to you about the fate of the Underrealm resting on your shoulders only serve to
confirm my suspicions. There is more going on here than anyone is telling you.
I nod. The Oracle said that the Boon I am after can restore something that was taken from the
Underlords. She said something about a Cypher.
Dax startles when I mention that word. So the rumors are true. . . .
What rumors?
A shadow blocks the light in the doorway and I look up to see one of King Ren s guards leering at us.
Is he coming with you or do I need to drag him there? he asks Dax, with a self satisfied grin that
makes me recognize him as the harpy who kicked me in the knees at the altar yesterday.
He s coming on his own, Dax says.
The guard grunts and moves back out into the hallway. What rumors? I ask again.
We ll discuss this later when there are fewer ears to overhear. Now it s time to go.
Panic swells inside of me. It s too soon. I take a step backward, but Dax grabs my arm. Leave
me, I seethe at him. I know I am being irrational, but I can t help myself. I m not ready for this.
Dax lowers his voice. Haden, you must go now. It will be worse if they have to force you. The
dishonor alone . . .
I want to strike him and make my escape, but his words about dishonor make me hesitate. Brim paces
in the windowsill, growling in a way that makes both Dax and me bristle. The owls flutter and hop in
their nests, screeching frantically.
What is it, girl? I say, anxious to sooth her. Getting a hellcat mad especially in such a confined
space is never a good idea.
Then I see three shades come into view over the horizon. Shades usually stay far away from the
palace, their moaning the only evidence of their existence, but sometimes hunger drives them into the
outskirts of the asphodel fields. Hunger insatiable hunger is all they know in this world. One of
the shades throws himself down on top of an asphodel plant, shoving the ghostly gray blossoms in his
sagging mouth. The other two clamor to get a hold of some of the flowers, but he pushes them away. I
wince as their moans morph into shrieking screams. They ve turned on each other, clawing and
gnawing at each other s faces and limbs. They d kill each other if they weren t already dead.
This is the plight of those who die without honor.
Heroes, Champions, those who know glory in this life go to Elysium when they die. I hear it is
paradise. But those who are never given honor or who have had it stripped away from them, like
myself, are doomed to wander the Wastelands for all eternity trying to fill their cold, empty souls,
which cannot be satisfied, no matter what. It s the worst-possible existence, save the fate of those
who have openly wronged the gods.
Yesterday, when my life was in Father s hands, I d thought I was ready to die if that was what he
chose. I d been resigned to the idea. But this ghastly reminder that dying without honor is a fate worse
than death itself makes me realize that I am not resigned at all. I will not accept such a terrible destiny
without a fight.
Dax is right; the Oracle has handed me the chance to show everyone what I am truly made of to have
my honor restored.
And I will not allow myself to fail.
I grab my bag, which holds what few belongings I am allowed to take. It is heavier than I remember
and I wonder if I am feeling the weight of my quest on my shoulders. I hitch it up, ready at last, and let
Dax propel me through the doorway. A loud clank echoes in my ears as he pulls the door to the roost
shut behind us. Four guards, who ve been waiting in the hallway, flank us immediately. The only path
for us now is forward. Toward whatever destiny the Fates have measured for me.
chapter six
daphne
The next few hours after I agreed to go with Joe are filled with so many firsts that I am not sure my
brain knows how or where to process and store it all: my first time hearing the wind whip through the
sunroof while riding in a limo down Apollo Canyon. My first time experiencing the cacophony of
excited, dreading, and anticipating tones of people arriving and departing on new adventures in an
airport. My first time on a plane and a private jet, at that and listening to the hum and whistle of
the engines as we prepare for takeoff. My first time outside of Utah. My first time stepping foot in
California, with its soupy humidity clinging to my skin, and realizing sound resonates differently in
wet air than it does in dry. My first time seeing LA granted, it was mostly a bunch of blobs of lights,
and traffic noises, as it was pretty late in the evening when we drove past the city, in another limo on
our way to Olympus Hills.
But of all the firsts, the one I m having the hardest time processing is the first time seeing the sparse
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