Hope slipped through the open gate. She’d used up all her tears, but her chest felt hollow as she descended the stairs to the river Lethe. The cheerful splashes mocked her, and she looked for a rock to toss into the crystal waters.

How dare Athan? But that wasn’t even a fair question. He’d loved Isa once; that much was clear. And was it so wrong to eventually move on? Was that what Hope was, his moving on? The idea made her chest tighten. And was it wrong that she still wanted him? Oh gods, what if he decided to stay in the Underworld with Isa?

Hope had said she’d get over it. She’d told Priska that Athan wasn’t anything special, but that wasn’t true. There was no one out there quite like him. He’d been so patient, and when they dated, he’d been so courteous. He’d risked his life to fight for her, and even come to the Underworld for her . . . or had that been for Isabel?

“Here you are,” Thanatos said with a relieved smile. He stood on the other side of the river, extending his hand toward her. “I was worried for you.”

The god of death disappeared and reappeared next to where Hope stood staring out at the water.

“Thanatos.” She pushed the palms of her hands into her eyes, as if she could push down her emotions. “Are you going to tell me everything happens for a reason? Or it will all work out for the best?” She looked up at him, and the tears she’d been holding back refused to be dammed.

Thanatos scowled, his pallid skin even more pale in the bright light of the Isles of the Blessed. His dark eyes flashed with a strength held in check. “I wouldn’t pretend to patronize you.”

She wrapped her arms around her torso as if she would be able to hold together her breaking heart.

“He hurt you very much,” the god said, glaring up the hillside. “Come.”

He touched her, and suddenly, while still on the banks of the Lethe, Hope could no longer see the gate that led up to Persephone’s gardens.

Not that Hope wanted to go back there now. If she had waited with Xan, maybe she wouldn’t have seen that. This hurt so much more than when she found out about Obelia, even more than thinking he was just playing her. Why did she hurt so much? She couldn’t even answer. If she opened her mouth, she would start sobbing.

“He’s a fool. And definitely doesn’t deserve you.”

The words should have felt a kindness, but the thoughts they invoked continued to shred her heart. It didn’t matter that he didn’t want her. She still loved him. She loved him, and it hadn’t been enough.

Thanatos pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. “I hate to see you mourn so. You are pure, dedicated, and so, so determined. Anyone who cannot see your radiance is an idiot.”

He whispered soothing words, and his hands rested on her back.

She’d thought she had no more tears, but somehow her eyes found a way to pour out more and more. She soaked through his dark shirt but had to pull away. She’d never been this close to Thanatos before, and he smelled of death.

The rational part of her brain told her of course he did, and it shouldn’t matter. But it did. He smelled of overripe decay, antiseptic, the copper scent of blood, and the pus rank of infection. He was the god that ripped the soul from her mother’s body.

Thanatos went to the water’s edge and scooped up a handful of the crystal liquid. “I hate to see you mourn. Here.” He thrust his hand toward her. “Three drops will make you forget what you saw. Three drops and your pain will evaporate.”

She shook her head. It would be nice to forget about Athan kissing his previous girlfriend. It would be nice to forget about Priska’s death. And Leto’s. There were so many memories that hurt, but those were the same memories that had given her purpose. Those were the memories that drove her to break the curse, to defeat Apollo, to seize her own destiny. “No.”

He turned his hand upside down, and the water dropped back into the river. “You are stronger than that, yes.”

She drew herself up. “Yes, I am.”

His lips curled in warm appreciation, and he stepped through the grassy bank. “Mother Gaia. You are incredible.”

He continued to draw closer, and the smile, the tenderness, the comfort he’d offered all hit Hope with sudden clarity.

Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened in horror.

He glanced behind him and then faced her with an intent gleam. “We are quite alone. No one will interrupt us.”

She swallowed. “It’s okay. I’m better. Will you take me back?”

Thanatos shook his head, his dark hair curling around his ears. “Not yet. There is something I want to ask you.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest like a caged bird. In fact, that was exactly what she felt like. This could not be happening. The sweet smell of peaches became cloying. The bank of the river that only moments before felt like an escape from pain became a trap.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?”

His intensity smothered her, and she shook her head. “No.”

Instead of it deterring him, he acknowledged her refusal of the idea with a nod of appreciation. “Me neither. When you came here, I had every intention of using you to blackmail Apollo.”

As if that would endear her. Her stomach turned with his admission.

“But you are wicked smart, and you pay attention. You have a hefty spark of divinity within you already. It wouldn’t take much . . .”

He advanced again, and once again Hope stepped back. What he was saying was madness. She would not become the consort to a god. It would not end well. It never did.

As if he could read her mind, he said, “The gods of the Underworld are not the same as those of Olympus.”

Then what was he saying? Her eyes narrowed, and her mind spun with the possibilities, but it continued to land on only one, and the supposition was ridiculous.

“Will you be my wife, Hope?”

Her mind went blank, and her jaw dropped. Time slowed, and the sound of the river lapping at the banks teased her. Nothing in her life was simple. Nothing. And Thanatos . . . “I don’t know what to say.”

He laughed, a low chuckle. “Just say you will.”

Understanding struck her. He thought she was considering it, but really she was trying to think of how she could refuse without offending him. Had she ever done anything to lead him to believe she loved him? “I cannot, Lord.”

But it was clear the god did not see that as refusal. “Apollo’s curse will not hold here. He has no power in the Underworld. We can petition Hades. He will see the wisdom in our union.”

Hope shook her head. “I . . . I do not love you that way.”

The idea of having him close, of kissing him, of lying with him made her shudder. She respected him. She valued his friendship, but marriage was for love. And she didn’t know him well enough to say she loved him.

“Love grows with time and trust. I’m confident it will grow.”

But shouldn’t she be attracted to him? She wasn’t attracted to him. She could see that he would be attractive to some, but he wasn’t to her. Was that wrong? Was there something wrong with her?

“I can’t. I can’t make that kind of commitment. You’re asking for something I can’t give right now.” Not ever. Not to him. She wanted freedom from the gods, not to be tied to one. “I’m so sorry.”

His face clouded in confusion. “You . . . you are refusing me?”

“I don’t love you,” she whispered. She hated to repeat it. And she wished there was some other way of refusing him, but accepting his offer was impossible.

His jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed. “You think your life will be better with someone else? You think anyone else will offer you what I’m offering?”

“No.” It wasn’t about what anyone could offer her. It was about what she wanted. “Your offer is very generous.” She swallowed.

“And yet,” he said, “still you refuse me?”

Why was he making her repeat herself? She wanted so much to run away from this. She even glanced at the river and wondered if she could swim across it but quickly dismissed the idea. Hope took a deep breath and told the truth. “I like you, and you’ve been very kind to me. But I don’t want to be here. Not forever. In fact, not at all. And I know, someday I will be, but at that point it won’t be a choice.”

He worried his lip in a very human gesture. “Are you refusing me or the Underworld?”

She steeled herself. “Both. I don’t like it here, but—”

“You don’t like me either,” he snapped. “You used me. You used me to get what you wanted.”

Hope opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off with a wave of his hand.

“Oh, I know all about your meeting with your parents. Was this all a game to you? Manipulate whoever you needed to get what you want?” He clenched his fists. “You are a very selfish and manipulative girl, Hope Nicholas.”

She scrambled back, moving up the riverbank. But he was faster.

Grabbing her shirt, he pulled her close. “You have tried to make a fool of me. You used me, and then . . . you made my offer of marriage a mockery.”

His smell . . . Oh gods. It was rotting decay, and her stomach churned. Her eyes watered, and she tried to pull back.

He clenched her arms, and breathing in her face, he growled, “Do you think I don’t know what you’re thinking?”

She was going to throw up. Hope tried to suppress the bile at the back of her throat.

With both hands, Thanatos shook her. “You think I’m disgusting? You wish this had never happened? I can make that come true!”

Panic exploded in her chest, and she struggled and writhed to free herself from his grip. Her feet tangled with his as she kicked to get away. But it was not enough. She was not strong enough.

The ground disappeared from under her feet, and the world tilted as she fell. The water in the river Lethe was cool and welcomed her with an embrace of acceptance. She immediately pulled herself above the surface and looked to find the shore. Her legs pumped in circles to keep her up, treading water to prevent drinking any of the mystical river that now surrounded her.

There was a splash from behind her, and her breath escaped in a gasp of terror as someone pushed her under.

Memories flashed through her mind as Hope held her breath. Seeing Athan kissing Isabel. Hugging Xan in the orchard. Her mother and father holding hands. Thanatos saving her. Charon refusing her passage. Obelia in the Underworld. Hermes abandoning her.

Her lungs screamed for air, but she could not breathe. She struggled against the force that held her under, clawing at what felt like a solid layer of ice blocking her from the air above. She couldn’t see anything holding her down, and her hands moved over the invisible surface trying to find the edge so she could get out.

The dark rock above the water fractured in the rainbow crystals of the river. Her lungs were burning, but she refused to give up. Somehow there had to be a way out. She beat against the barrier to no avail, and she wanted to scream her frustration, but there was no air.

The gasp was involuntary, a reflex panic, and Hope choked on the water as it flooded her lungs. Her tears disappeared in the water, and her acceptance of failure came only as she faded into unconsciousness.