Hermes’s reunion with Athan made Hope’s eyes sting and fill with tears. She’d had that briefly with her mom—that memory was solidly back in place.

She watched the father-and-son reunion with a sense of deep satisfaction and gratitude. Atropos had thrown her a bone and then backed her up. Perhaps not all the gods were selfish.

“I would have a word with her,” Hermes said, and then he stepped next to her. “May I?”

He led them away from Athan and Xan, just far enough that they were out of earshot.

Hope’s heart skipped and tripped in anticipation. Unease crawled over her skin, and she remembered when he’d dumped her in the Underworld as he took Priska to the Acheron for crossing.

“My son has become quite attached to you,” he said flatly. The god swallowed, and his gaze darted to Athan before returning to her. His eyes narrowed. “An attachment that appears to threaten his very existence.”

Hope wanted to protest. To tell him she’d actually saved his son. But there was truth in his words. Athan wouldn’t have ever been in danger if it weren’t for her. With slow, dawning horror, understanding washed over her. Every person she was close to suffered or died . . . because of her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. But the words were an empty shell. She couldn’t erase what had happened to Athan, and it would affect the rest of his now-mortal existence.

“Meaningless.” He waved away her apology and leaned toward her. “I want you to understand one thing, Sphinx.”

She waited for the threat she knew was coming.

“His infatuation will pass, and I can’t wait until it does. But in the meantime, I will not help you. You know how much I hate Apollo, but that is nothing compared to how I feel about you. You have taken my one remaining joy, risked it for your gain, and returned it broken and fragile.”

She opened her mouth to protest. She’d never asked Athan and Xan to come. She’d never wanted anyone to risk their life for her.

“Out of respect for my son, I won’t thwart your quest. And out of courtesy to him, I’m telling you: Don’t come to me for aid. If our paths cross, you’d better turn and run the other way.” He bent over her and stared into her eyes. “Am I clear?”

She stepped back. Pain, disappointment, and hurt buffeted her. Emotion burned her heart, and her eyes spilled the tears she couldn’t contain.

“I understand,” she choked.

“Good.” He patted her head. “Now be a good girl, and wipe away those tears. We both can agree he deserves better. You don’t need to give him anything else to worry about, right?” There was threat and condemnation in his words and tone, and then he sealed it with her own guilt.

She wiped her eyes and nodded. “Right.”