Hope turned to Athan. Emotions flashed across her face: confusion, horror, pain. “You saved me.”

He wouldn’t agree to that. He’d done nothing more than what was necessary. And after the pain he’d caused, it was the least he could do. A small token of recompense. “With a lot of help, you will save yourself.” He nodded to Xan.

Tears filled her eyes. “I . . . I don’t think I deserved that.”

“It doesn’t matter if you deserved it. It’s what I wanted.” The sacrifice had felt right.

“It’s a strange thing, love. It can be so selfish and selfless all at the same time.” Hades twisted a pale gold band on his finger. He glanced at his wife.

Xan extended his hand to Athan.

Surprise flitted across Athan’s face, but he accepted the outstretched hand, and Xan pulled him in for a brief one-armed hug. Xan then extended his hand and waved Hope toward them. “Let’s get out of here.”

Athan couldn’t agree more.

Xan winked at Hope and Athan then turned to Hades. “I’d like to thank you for your hospitality, and I wish I could say it was a pleasure, but . . .” Xan held his hands up. “I can’t.”

Hades’s demeanor morphed in an instant and surprised them all. His chuckle was deep and long. His frustration seemed to evaporate. “Demigod of war, you are nothing and everything like your father. I wish you the best of luck in your next adventure. And when it is your time to come here to the Underworld, I will be very glad to have you.”

Xan backed away from the lord of the Underworld. “Right. I still hope that’s not for a very long time.”

Hades inclined his head. “That’s understandable.”

Athan watched the discussion unfold with awe. It was like the god was possessed with multiple personalities or something.

Hope seemed to share all of his thoughts but none of his reserve when she asked, “Are you always like this? All over the board with your . . .” She waved her hands.

Hades turned his dark eyes on her. “No, Hope.” He drew in a breath before he continued. “I’m much more tolerable, and tolerant, when I have my wife with me. And I calm much more quickly.”

He turned to Athan. “Your sacrifice speaks volumes about the depth of your feelings.” He looked again at Persephone. “I understand that, and I will give you a promise: no Skia will harm you, ever. As soon as you cross the threshold to the mortal world, your immortality will be gone. Do you understand?”

Athan nodded. He had known the cost, and looking at Hope, he would do it again. Even with Hades’s gift, part of his soul ached with his loss. But, this wasn’t the end. “I understand.”

“There is nothing else here for you,” Hades addressed them all. “You may leave. My guards will see to your safety until you return to the portal.”

They acknowledged his command and prepared to go. Athan and Xan left to get their backpacks. When they returned to Hope’s room, she was alone, dressed in regular clothes with her hair pulled up in a ponytail, and slipping on a pair of shoes.

“Well, that’s it then?” Xan asked. He crossed the room but stopped in front of Hope. “Are you ready to go?”

She nodded, her gaze flitting to Athan.

He’d hoped she would forgive him. Trust him. That she’d be able to—

Hope crashed into him, wrapping her arms around him. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry you had to give up your immortality.”

He wanted to tell her it was okay. That it didn’t matter. But the words would’ve been false. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Her body molded to his perfectly, and the hole in his chest, the emptiness that had ached ever since he’d woken up, filled with a warmth he’d never felt before.

“Let’s go home,” he whispered into her hair. He punctuated the words by brushing his lips over her head.

As they stepped from the room, two Skia flanked them, guiding them out of Hades’s home.

Hermes met them outside the palace. His hazel eyes were rimmed in red, and worry lined his features and hung heavy from his shoulders. He said nothing as he pulled Athan close and wrapped him in a hug.

His father’s sorrow hit him like an anvil. “I’m sorry, Dad.” Athan wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for. He wouldn’t change it. Hope’s freedom was more important than his immortality. But somewhere deep inside, he felt like he’d let his father down.

“Nothing for you to be sorry about.” Hermes’s voice was thick with emotion. “No matter what, I will always be your father, and I will always love you. If you need anything . . . anything at all, I’ll always be here for you.”

“Thanks.” And despite the loss, Athan was at peace with it. “I saw Isabel while I was here.”

“Really?” Expectation flashed across Hermes’s features. “How is she?”

Athan chuckled. “Dead. But seeing her made me realize . . . I’ve moved on. Not that I didn’t care for her.” To say that would’ve been a lie. “But my feelings for Hope run much deeper. I’ve healed from the pain of losing Isabel, and I’m at peace with it. But more importantly, Hope’s made it possible for me to have a real chance at love . . . with her.”

Hermes’s face darkened as Athan spoke. Rather than congratulating him or wishing him well, Hermes said he needed to have a word with Hope. He probably realized he would have to express his gratitude for saving Athan’s life, and Hermes, like all gods, didn’t like to swallow the bitter pill of humility.