“You choose whom you want to choose,” the Fate went on. “But for Demetrius…there is only one he cannot deny.”
Isadora’s eyes slowly lifted. And she thought back to her night with Demetrius. To the struggle he waged between what he seemed to want but wasn’t sure he deserved. To every time he’d rescued her and made sure she was safe. Even when she hadn’t wanted him to.
Her. She was the one he couldn’t deny.
She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Then that means—”
“It means exactly what it is. And that causes Hades much grief because he can’t infiltrate the subconscious of a hero’s soul mate. Not when her hero guards over her.”
Her hero. Her heart burst in her chest at the thought. That’s exactly what he’d been doing this last week, wasn’t it? Guarding her? She’d had dreams this week of Hades—horrible dreams, like always—but they hadn’t lingered as they normally did. And in the mornings there’d been no residual effect. That was because of Demetrius, she now realized. Because he’d kept her safe, slept next to her, made sure the Lord of the Underworld stayed away, even if he hadn’t known he’d been doing it. Though she didn’t understand why he kept trying to push her away with his cruel words, she knew now he would never be able to. Not completely.
Love blossomed in her soul. The kind she’d always hoped for but never expected. And as her mind swirled with the possibilities, she thought of her mother. And the cost of love.
She looked back to the Fate and knew this was her one chance to know the truth. Even though the Fate probably wouldn’t answer, she had to ask. “Did she know? My mother? About my father’s indiscretions? Is that why she left?”
Sympathy crossed the Fate’s face and she glanced to the ground, pursing her lips as if choosing her words carefully. “Your mother loved your father deeply. And she was a good queen. A good wife to him. But your father…what does he love above all else, dear one?”
“His kingdom.” The words left Isadora’s mouth on a whisper, without a question in her mind.
The Fate’s sad eyes lifted to Isadora’s. “He still does.”
He did. Isadora knew that better than anyone.
Sacrifice. Her father was always preaching about the responsibility of the monarchy and the level of sacrifice it took to rule. She’d never believed him before, but now…? Did it matter if she was Demetrius’s soul mate? If he didn’t want to bind himself to her because she was of the royal line, then she couldn’t force him.
She looked down at her hand, opened her fist so the diamond sparkled up at her. She wasn’t good at dealing with emotions. Her parents hadn’t exactly taught her about never-ending love or what a good binding should be. She knew now that she did care about Demetrius, deeply, even with his dark moods and endless secrets and the way he kept himself closed off for reasons that didn’t seem to make sense, but she couldn’t walk away from her destiny either. She and her sisters…they were important. They were needed now more than ever. The face-off moments ago with Hades had reinforced just how important her position in this war really was.
The ground’s trembling increased in intensity and the Fate began to fade. “Look within yourself for the balance you seek, dear one. I promise all your questions will be answered there.”
Isadora didn’t know what that meant, but the shaking walls jolted her out of her reverie. Rock and marble cracked, broke free to tumble down in a horrendous crash. Shielding her head with her hands, she ran out the entrance and down the three marble steps, sprinting across the dark cavern for the tunnel. From somewhere above she heard Demetrius’s frantic voice calling to her, but the explosion of rock and granite at her back drowned out all other sound.
She reached the tunnel, darted through the long domed corridor, and spotted the stairs that led up to the surface. Rocks and debris tore into the flesh of her feet. She pumped her arms, gripped the diamond tight in her fist, and ignored the burn in her lungs, in her legs, as she ran harder. She wasn’t going to die here. She had a purpose now, even if it wasn’t the one she’d always wanted. Light shone down from the surface, a golden glow that urged her on.
Yes. I’m going to make it.
A thunderous clap echoed from above. She reached the first step and looked up just as the ceiling collapsed.
Chapter 19
“Isadora!” The force of the explosion shattered the invisible force field holding Demetrius back. He stumbled forward, caught his balance, and immediately began lifting pieces of debris out of the way.
Please, gods. He hurled rocks right and left. “Isadora!”
No sound met his ears. No answer. Great fissures had opened up in the earth, tearing through the grassy hillside, showcasing the mighty stones and pillars that had been hidden below. Jagged edges of rocks and marble ripped through the flesh of his hands as he dug deeper.
“Isadora!”
Sweat slid down his face, dripped onto his chest. The heat of the sun scorched his back as he kept moving massive pieces of stone, one at a time, searching. He’d heard her talking to Lachesis, damn it. Had heard every word they said. She’d been running for the exit when the ground collapsed. She couldn’t be far from the steps that used to be right where he stood now.
Where is she?
Time seemed to drag on. Five minutes? Twenty? An hour? He wasn’t sure how much time passed. All he knew was that she was here. Somewhere close, she was here.
Breathing heavily, his muscles sore from exertion, he stopped digging, wiped his forearm over his brow. A renewed sense of panic gnawed at his belly. Why couldn’t he find her? Why couldn’t he—
His spells. He could lift the rocks away with witchcraft. But which spell? His brain ran blank. He looked down at the amount of debris around him. A spell of this magnitude would drain him not only of physical strength but of mental strength as well. And if he was wrong, if he wasn’t strong enough to cast it, he’d waste precious time he could use searching for Isadora with his bare hands.
Indecision warred as he raked his hands through his hair, grabbed on to the strands, and pulled until pain shot across his scalp.
You’re not weak, Guardian, contrary to what you think. What you fear most may just have the power to save you. But only if you let it.
Lachesis’s words from that night on the cliff—the night he’d taken that first step toward Isadora—ran back through his mind. Where they settled in. He took a deep breath. Then another.
Okay, focus. You can do this.
Closing his eyes, he held out his hands and regulated his breaths as words, phrases, chants tumbled through his mind. Spells he hadn’t uttered in years but once had been as natural as drawing air. One grew stronger in his thoughts, like a beacon dragging him forward, casting shadows and darkness over all the rest.
His lips moved. Words spilled from his mouth. Rock scraped rock as he chanted in the warm, moist air and drew on the power of his ancestors.
His muscles bore the weight of the rocks. He gritted his teeth, lifted, and directed them away from the rubble with the sweep of his hands. One by one he moved broken pieces of marble and granite until his arms and legs screamed in protest. Until he could see the first few steps beneath the rubble.
Sweat poured down his temples. Fatigue settled in as time slipped away. But he fought against both. He had to find her. He wouldn’t give up. He readied himself to start again, only to stop short when his ears registered the slightest sound.
A whisper. A squeak. Coming from somewhere in the rubble. A rasp. A voice?