The Moirai were gone, and Athan and Xan now stood just outside a knee-high stone wall. On the other side, a vibrant green lawn extended with lush flower gardens and blossoming fruit trees. If the black rock of the Underworld hadn’t still surrounded them, Athan might have thought they were back in the mortal realm.

“Persephone’s garden,” Xan announced and stepped over the wall.

The ground was soft beneath them, the grass a welcome change. Athan’s spirits lifted as the demigods followed a path next to an orchard.

“Don’t eat anything.” Athan said it just as much to remind himself as they passed trees heavy with peaches.

Xan rolled his eyes. “Don’t be an arse. I know better.”

The smell of the sweet fruit made Athan’s mouth water, and he quickened his pace. Xan seemed to understand and matched step for step.

The palace of onyx rose before them, and Athan tried to formulate what he would say. They needed to get Hope, which meant they needed to find her. Which meant . . .

All thoughts ground to a halt as they turned the corner.

Isabel.

The raven-haired beauty looked the same as she had almost ten years ago. Her gray eyes dilated with surprise, and she squealed as she ran toward him. “Athan!”

Isabel.

The demigod daughter of Aphrodite Xan had found in England. He’d brought her to the conservatory; was it a decade ago? No, more like fifteen years. Athan had been twelve when they’d found her. She was seventeen. Could that be right? It seemed forever ago.

Isabel wrapped him in a hug, and his arms instinctively reciprocated. “Isa,” he breathed.

She pulled away from him and cupped his face in her hands. “By the gods, I’ve missed you.”

Her smile was like the dawning sun. Her eyes like the storm clouds over her native country. The words came back to him, the things they’d said to each other. His heart churned with trepidation.

Her lips brushed his, then his cheek, then his ear.

“Have you come to stay? Do you still live in the mortal realm?” she whispered. “It’s okay if you do. We’ll make it work.”

Had he pulled back or had she? He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The son of Hermes was at a loss for words.

“Isa. Athan.” Xan looked at them both, his brow drawn in confusion. Without another word, he turned his back and walked off.

Athan wanted to call out. He wanted Xan to . . . save him? The thought made Athan’s stomach clench. This was not right. He should be happy to see her, not wanting to leave.

Isabel unwrapped herself from Athan but tugged on his hand. As she led him down a garden path, she continued to speak. “Are you still angry with him? You shouldn’t be. It wasn’t his fault. Not really. He tried to fend them off, but there were too many.”

Somehow they’d arrived in a park-like area with benches. Pink petals floated on a breeze. The air felt fresh, like right after a spring shower. Life surrounded him in the realm of the dead. And his heart hurt.

“Do you remember when we would spar, six or seven of us against Xan. He would always win, right? He was always the best of us at fighting.” She was silent for only a moment before continuing. “There were twelve Skia that night. It was an ambush. I tried to help, but . . . You know I was never very good at fighting.”

No. She was never any good at it. But he’d foolishly thought it wouldn’t matter. Someone—no not just someone, he —would always be there to protect her. Except he wasn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should’ve been there.”

Her laughter was carefree, but she stopped when she saw the expression on his face. “Is that what you think? Gods, Athan. I’m so glad you weren’t there. They would’ve killed you, too.” She smirked. “Well, maybe that wouldn’t have been so bad. We could’ve been here together, right?”

That was just it. If he’d died, he would’ve never met Hope, and she was someone he didn’t want to live without.

“Don’t be sad, love. We’re both here now.”

Yes, they were. But his heart was not. He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to say it. But this . . . this needed to be said. “Isa. It’s nice to see you.” He shook his head. “It’s great to see you . . .”

She tilted her head, and her face grew somber. “But?”

Just like a Band-Aid. “I’m not here for you.”

Her smile faltered. “You’ve moved on.”

It wasn’t a question. He knew that she knew, but she deserved to hear it from him. He would not make the same mistakes he’d made so many times before. He would be honest.

He took her hands in his. Hands that were small and soft. She would always be this girl. The one he’d first fallen in love with. His first real kiss. But she wasn’t who his heart ached for now. She wasn’t the one he loved anymore. “I never stopped caring about you.”

She nodded, but her eyes told him she knew better. “But it’s not the same.”

He pursed his lips. “It’s not the same.”

She cupped his face, and her thumb rested on his lips. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Will you tell me about her?”

So he did. He told her how he’d seen Hope and suspected her immortality. How he’d tried to woo her, and she’d resisted, pushing him away. How he’d finally broken through and then when his feelings shifted. “At first she was only another job, another demigod to get to the conservatory. I had no room in my heart for anyone but you. She has your same innocence and naivety, which is what probably cracked my shell. It just happened . . .”

“That’s as it should be.” She patted his cheek and then rested her hands in her lap. “Is she dead?”

This was more difficult. What would she think? But even as he thought the question, he realized he didn’t care. His decisions would not be determined by what Isa would think. His heart belonged to Hope.

Athan told Isa the rest. He laid it all out. How Hope was considered a monster because of Apollo’s curse, her risks in coming to the conservatory, how she’d saved his life, and then coming to the Underworld to try to break Apollo’s hold on her. Athan told of how he’d come to the Underworld to help. “Myrine said she was stuck here, and I came to get her back.”

Isa listened without interrupting once. Her eyes grew big as she absorbed Hope’s story, her risks and bravery. When Athan finished speaking, Isa leaned toward him. “You must love her to risk so much.”

The truth of it resonated within him, as well as the truth of what Isa hadn’t said. “I do.” He reached forward and brushed away a lone tear sliding down her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

Isa shook her head and scrubbed away the rest of her tears. She looked him in the eye and said, “We were both very young. I’m not sure either of us really knew what love was.”

It was true, but it still stung. “Even so, I’m sorry.”

Because he could’ve done it differently. All those times in the Underworld . . . he could’ve sought her out.

Isa stood and offered her hands to help him up.

Athan clasped them both and, after standing, wrapped her in a hug. “I hope you find happiness here.”

Her smile was just shy of the dawning sun. “I will, Athan. And I hope you find your Hope and save her.”

He brushed her cheek with a kiss. “Goodbye, Isa.”

“Be safe, Athan.”

He could feel her eyes on him as he marched toward the castle, but he refused to look back.

“Athan, wait!”

He closed his eyes. Gods, did she not know how hard it was to walk away? He still cared for her, but . . .

“Please. You will need to get past Cerberus, and I want to help.”

He froze. He should’ve known. “I’m sorry.” Was he forever going to be misinterpreting? “I would really appreciate that.”

She taught him two hand commands: sit and stay. “But most important will be the words you use.”

“Ancient Greek?” He ran through the two words in the old language.

She shook her head. “The divine language.”

He swallowed. Of course. The language of the gods. The only language he didn’t know.

She taught him the two words. So similar to ancient Greek and yet distinctly different.

“Thank you, Isa. I’m sure you just saved my life.”

She nodded. “Yes, but it is a life worth saving.”

The wisp of a demigod stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Goodbye.”

He hugged her close, and a feeling of deep peace settled over him. “Goodbye.”

The regret and bitterness he’d carried had been washed away. And he’d never felt so strong.