The Goddess Inheritance

“It’s all right,” I whispered, reaching for him. He calmed, and this time when his blue eyes met mine, I knew he saw me. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The moment my fingers brushed his downy cheek, someone cleared their throat behind me, and I turned. Calliope stood framed in the doorway, and she held the dagger to Henry’s throat.

All of the air escaped my lungs. This was it. He was going to die. I was going to lose my husband, my baby, my entire family to a crazy goddess who didn’t care who she hurt, so long as she got her way. So long as she got to torture me.

“Don’t hurt him—you can’t, please,” I whispered, clutching the edge of the cradle. Henry’s eyes were open, and he stared at me—no, not at me. Beyond me. He stared at Milo. It was a small comfort, knowing that he would die with the knowledge he had a son. That at least he would have this moment.

“Please,” spat Calliope, a mockery of my desperation. “Always please, as if that’s enough. You know it isn’t, Kate. Why bother?”

It didn’t matter if nothing I ever did was enough; I had to try. I couldn’t live with myself if I surrendered and let her have everything that mattered to me. “You love him. If you kill him, you’ll never have him. You’ll lose.”

She scoffed, but a hint of doubt flashed across her face. “I’ll be the queen of the world. I’ll never lose again.”

“Being queen won’t make you happy.” I studied the way she held Henry. He could break her grip if she lowered the knife. All we needed was that split second, and I could distract her long enough for Henry to take the baby and disappear. “You’ll still be alone. You’ll still be miserable.”

Calliope’s eyes narrowed. “Whatever it is you think you’re doing, it won’t work. I don’t need him anymore.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I already have exactly what I want.” Behind her, Cronus loomed, somehow taller than he had been moments before. The power radiating from Henry was gone now. “First I’m going to kill Henry, and then I’m going to kill your mother and every single member of the council. Once I’m done, when the world kneels at my feet, I will hold your son, and he will call me mother and you a traitor. And together, we will watch you die.”

Henry roared and struggled against her, coming to life at last, but whatever chained him held strong. She pressed the blade to his throat. This wasn’t about winning anymore—she knew she had me, and I knew this was the end. Now it was about causing me as much pain as possible.

The joke was on her, though. Without Henry, without my mother, without my son, I would welcome death.

Focus. This couldn’t be it. There had to be something I could do—some magical combination of words I could say to get her to lower that dagger. Anything.

Behind me, Milo’s cries grew louder, and I groped around until I touched his hand. This was it. These were the only few moments I would have with him. Despite the dagger to Henry’s throat, I would have given anything to make them last forever.

“Then kill me,” I blurted. “Right now, in front of Henry, in front of the baby—just do it. Because I promise if you hurt either of them, I will make sure you spend eternity burning in Tartarus.”

Calliope tilted her head, and I held my breath. She had to agree. Anything to get her to lower that knife, to give Henry that split-second advantage—anything.

But before she could say a word, Cronus exhaled, and fog crept across the floor of the nursery. “No.” The word was barely a whisper, but it burrowed inside me, refusing to be ignored. “You will not harm Kate, my daughter. If she dies, so will you.”

Behind the flush of her excitement, Calliope paled. “You can either keep Kate or her spawn alive. Not both. Choose.”

“I have already told you what you will do,” said Cronus. “You will obey me, or you will be the one to die. That is your choice to make, not mine.”

Clenching her jaw, she dug the blade deeper into Henry’s skin, and he winced. Forget me. His voice echoed through my mind as clearly as if he’d spoken. Do whatever you must to escape before it’s too late.

“No,” I whispered, and Henry narrowed his eyes. He could glare at me all he wanted. I wasn’t leaving, not without him. Not without the baby.

Though she was still pale, Calliope’s lips twisted into a smirk. “How cute. You can try all you want, but she isn’t getting out of here ali—” She stopped. “What’s that?”

Cronus’s expression went blank, and I twisted around, searching for whatever it was that had caught her attention. What was what?

Calliope’s gaze unfocused, and her smirk faltered. “Father, do something,” she hissed, and at last I heard it.

The distant rumble of thunder, growing louder with each passing second.

The crack of lightning that lit up the sky beyond the indigo curtains in the hallway.

A burst of wind so strong that it howled through the corridors.

And a dozen war cries blending together, forming a fearsome harmony.

The council had arrived.

Calliope’s face went from pale to ashen, and her grip on Henry slipped. I didn’t think. In that moment, I memorized the feel of my son’s tiny hand in mine, and I let go.

As fast as I could, I hurtled toward Henry and Calliope, knocking him out of the way. Grabbing her fist, I smashed her knuckles against the wall to make her let go of the dagger. She wasn’t human though, and just like me, she couldn’t feel pain. No matter how much force I used, it was pointless.

But I had to buy Henry enough time to grab Milo and leave. Together we struggled, goddess against goddess, and I let out an enraged cry. Something inside me took over, something primal. As Calliope fought, so did I, with everything I had.

“Cronus!” shrieked Calliope, but he vanished into an eerie fog. His true form. With a dozen screaming gods surrounding the castle, no matter how powerful he was, he had no choice but to fight. He wouldn’t be any help to her now.

Calliope must have realized the same thing, because with a surge of power, she shoved me, and we toppled to the ground. She twisted my neck, and I scratched her face, attempting to gouge out her eyes, but neither of us could hurt the other.

“You bitch,” she snarled. “You conniving, useless bitch.”

“Can’t kill me.” I worked my fingers around the handle of the dagger and struggled to pull it from her grip. “I die, you die, remember?”

“Father won’t touch a hair on my head.”

“Are you willing to bet your entire existence on that?”

She screeched and wrenched the dagger from me. I had no chance against her immense strength, and I watched in horror as my grip slipped and the tip of the infused blade plunged into my arm.

White-hot pain ripped through me, burning everything in its path, infinitely worse than the brush of fog against my leg during my botched coronation ceremony nearly a year before. This was inside me, fusing together with my very being, choking it until only a few pitiful gasps remained.

I was dying. Two more seconds, and I’d be—

A black blur slammed into her. As the weight of Calliope’s body disappeared, the choke hold vanished. Agony burned inside me, leaving me breathless, and fire replaced the ice of the blade as I bled freely. What was happening?

I opened my eyes, half expecting to see wherever gods went when they died, but instead all I saw was Calliope’s maniacal grin as she lay on the floor beside me.

No, that wasn’t all. Henry hovered above her, pressed oddly against her body at an angle I didn’t understand. His eyes widened, his mouth dropped open, and his hands clutched something against his ribs.

“I win,” whispered Calliope. And as she pulled the bloody dagger from Henry’s chest, I finally understood.

Chapter 3

The Darkest Hour

For four years, I’d stayed by my mother’s bedside and watched her fade away. Her once strong and healthy body had withered into a poor imitation of the woman I remembered, and not an hour had passed without me imagining what it would be like the day death claimed her.

I’d lived in constant fear of waking up and finding her gone, a shell where my mother had once been. I would watch the clock flip over to midnight and wonder if that was the date I would mourn each year for the rest of my life.

I knew what it was like to lose. I knew what it was like to fight the inevitable.

But none of that had prepared me for watching Henry die.

Blood spurted from the wound in his chest. He fell to his knees, one hand clutching his rib cage, the other reaching for me. I’d never seen such real terror in his eyes. Gods weren’t supposed to die. Not unless they wanted to.

I reached for him with my good arm as the life drained from him. Was the blade strong enough to kill me, too? Once it was over, would we be together on the other side, wherever that might lead?

Was there even another side for the Lord of the Dead?

The moment our fingers met, my body lurched. It was a familiar feeling—much more jolting than I’d ever experienced before, but the instant it happened, I knew. We were going home.

One second, I was only feet away from Milo as he cried. The next I lay in a heap with Henry, and silence surrounded us. We weren’t in Calliope’s palace anymore. We weren’t even on the island. But we weren’t in the Underworld either, or at least any part of it I’d ever seen.

Instead we were in the middle of a massive room devoid of anything but a sky-blue ceiling and sunset floor. The golden walls seemed to stretch out forever, and with the sun in the middle of the ceiling as if it were a real sky, everything glittered with light. It should’ve taken my breath away.

But Milo was gone. Wherever we were, I knew instinctively he wouldn’t be joining us, and unspeakable pain spread like acid inside me. I would have gladly been stabbed a thousand times over rather than feel this for even a moment.

There was nothing I could do, though. My mother was on the island with him, along with James and the rest of the council, and that would have to be enough. The only person I had a prayer of helping now had me pinned to the sunset floor.

“Henry.” Even though the last thing I wanted to do was hurt him, I had no choice but to roll him gently off me. Blood soaked through his shirt, and I pressed my hands against his chest in an attempt to stop the flow, but it was useless. After everything we’d gone through together, after everything he’d done to protect me, I couldn’t do a damn thing to save him. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.

“Kate?” His voice was thick and hoarse, as if he were ill, but he wasn’t. He was dying. “Are you—are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I lied, and my voice broke. “Don’t sit up. You’re losing too much blood.” How much did gods have in them? The same as mortals? How much could they live without?

“I didn’t know,” he whispered. “I thought— Ava said—”

“It’s not your fault.” I shakily brushed my mouth against his. He tasted like rain. “None of this is your fault. I should’ve never trusted her. I should’ve never left you. I’m sorry.”

He kissed me back weakly. “Was that—was that baby...”

A lump formed in my throat. “Yeah. He’s your son.” I managed a watery smile. At least Henry knew. “I named him Milo. We can call him something different if you’d like.”

“No.” He coughed, and a few droplets of blood stained his lips. “It’s perfect. So are you.”

I leaned against his chest, putting as much weight on the wound as possible. I refused to say goodbye like this. Not to Henry, not to our life together, none of it. I wasn’t ready, and Milo deserved to have a father. I hadn’t had one growing up, and like hell would I let him experience that same emptiness and uncertainty. He deserved more than that. He deserved to have a family.

My arm bled freely, and within moments the room began to spin. Henry’s moonlit eyes remained open, and he smiled. “Never thought I’d have a son.” His voice trembled. “Never thought I’d have you.”

I gritted my teeth against the dizziness, my body growing weaker by the second. “You’re going to have me for a hell of a lot longer than this.” My vision blurred, and I struggled to look around us. Where was everyone? Why couldn’t they feel the life drain from Henry the way I could?

Because it wasn’t his life I felt draining away. It was mine.

“Kate? Henry?”

My mother’s voice washed over me, and I let out an exhausted sob. “Mom?”

She knelt beside me, radiating warmth and the scent of apples and freesia. “Let go, sweetheart,” she murmured. “I’ve got you.”

I couldn’t force my hands from Henry, though. He was cold now, his eyes wide and unblinking, and his chest was still. Gods didn’t need to breathe, but Henry always had. His heart had always beaten, but now I saw no hint of a pulse.

He was dead.

I didn’t remember the others appearing. One moment my mother held me against her chest, her hand wrapped around my bleeding arm as I screamed and cried and disappeared into myself. The next, Walter hovered over us, and Theo knelt beside Henry’s body, his lips moving at a furious pace.

“Get her out of here,” said Walter, his booming voice distant as I cowered in a dark corner in the recesses of my mind. Gentle hands lifted me, and I thought I heard James’s voice murmuring words of comfort I didn’t understand, but outwardly I thrashed and shrieked. I couldn’t leave Henry. If I left him, I would never see him again, and then he really would be gone.

He couldn’t be, though. He just couldn’t be.

Another pair of hands joined us, but I was so completely submerged into myself that I might as well have closed my eyes and disappeared in the dark. In here, nothing could touch me. In here, Henry was everywhere. In here, it was winter again, and we curled up together underneath the down comforter in the Underworld as the hours passed by. His chest was warm under my palm, and his heart beat against my fingers, steady and eternal. In here, no one died.

A whimper caught my attention, and I opened my eyes again. The golden room was gone, replaced by the sunset nursery in Calliope’s palace, and my heart sank. There, lying in the cradle, was Milo. My mother hadn’t saved him, after all.

I stood beside him, pretending I could touch him and rock him to sleep. Pretending that it wasn’t just a matter of time before the Titan fire in my veins consumed me and Milo would be orphaned. I had never known my father, but I treasured the time I’d spent with my mother. Milo would never have that either. The only time we would have together were those few seconds before Calliope had killed his father, and he would never remember them.

No, we had now. Even if he didn’t know I was with him, I could be there. I would be. Settling in beside his cradle, I watched him unblinkingly, soaking in every second.

And I waited for the inevitable to come.

* * *

Kate.

James’s voice floated toward me and wound its way through what was left of my heart. I blinked. How long had it been? Minutes? Hours? Days? No, Calliope might have been a monster, but she wouldn’t have left Milo alone for that long. He slept soundly in the cradle, his little chest rising and falling. I took comfort in each breath.

Come back, Kate.

His words were a whisper against my ear, but I stayed put. There was nothing left for me in reality. My mother had lived for eons before I’d been born; she could do without me once more. She would have to.

The air grew thick with annoyance. Kate, I swear, if you don’t come back, I will tell Henry you kissed me. And that you said I have a nice ass.

“Henry?” My eyes flew open—my real eyes this time. As it had each time before, the wrench of leaving Milo took my breath away, and fuzzy shapes floated in front of me until I managed to focus.

A sky-blue ceiling and undoubtedly a sunset floor. But unlike the room bathed in golden light, this was different. Smaller, muted, and darker somehow.

Frantically I looked around the room for any sign of Henry, but he wasn’t there. James’s sick idea of a joke then, to pull me away from the only thing that gave me any small measure of comfort now.

“How are you feeling?” My mother hovered beside my bed, applying a compress of something that smelled like honey and tangerines to my arm. Noticing my stare, she smoothed my hair back and offered me a small smile that didn’t meet her eyes. “A compress to stop the pain. You’ll have to wear a sling, but it won’t spread anywhere else for now.”

I shook my head. “Take it off.”

“What?” Her brow knitted. “Sweetheart, this is saving your life—”

“I don’t want it.” I sat up, and my body screamed in protest as I ripped the compress from my arm. It didn’t matter. Henry was dead, and I would never hold my son again. I didn’t want anyone to save my life.

My mother set her hand against my good shoulder, and firmly but gently, she guided me back onto the bed. I didn’t have the strength to fight her. “Too bad. I’m your mother, and whether you like it or not, I’m not going to let you die on my watch.”

I sniffed, staring at the cloudless ceiling. “I can’t do this, Mama.” I hadn’t called her that since the second grade, when the most popular girl in my New York City private school had overheard and proceeded to tease me for the next four years.

“Can’t do what?” She laid the compress on my arm again, and though it hurt like hell, the pain didn’t spread.

“I had a baby,” I whispered. Did she even know she was a grandmother? Did she know about Calliope’s plot? Or did she think I’d run off with Ava for nine months and forgotten about her?

She hesitated, not meeting my eyes. “I know. I’m so sorry, Kate.”

That was it. Simple acknowledgment. No offer to find him. No promise to take him from Calliope the first chance she got. I swallowed thickly, half an inch away from hysteria. “His name’s Milo. Henry—Henry liked that name.”

“I’m sure he still does.” James’s voice filtered through the haze around me.

“Still does?” My voice cracked, and though my mother held me down, I raised my head. James leaned against the open doorway, his blond hair tousled and his cheeks flushed, as if he’d run a marathon. Or maybe it was because I hadn’t seen him in the sunlight for so long.

“He’s in another room. Theo’s tending to him,” he said. Theo, the member of the council with the ability to heal wounds caused by Titans. Or if not heal, at least make them less painful.

Was it possible? The way Henry’s eyes had stared unseeingly, the lack of heartbeat, of any effort at all to keep his body going—it couldn’t be. “Is Henry alive?”

The moment between my question and James’s answer lasted for an eternity. All at once I needed to hear it, yet I didn’t want to know. I could have clung to the delicious hope James gave me for the rest of my endless life. Henry could always be in the next room over, alive and waiting for me.

“Yes,” he said, and I let out a soft sob. My mother touched my cheek, but I looked past her, focusing on my best friend.

“Can I see him? I need to see him.” Forget lying still. I struggled to sit up again, but for a second time, my mother held me down, more insistent than before.

“You can see him as soon as you’re well enough,” she said, but she glanced at James, and they exchanged a look I didn’t understand.

“What?” My neck strained with the effort of keeping my head upright, but I couldn’t look away. “What’s going on?”

James faltered, and that delicate balloon of hope inside me burst. “He’s unconscious, and there’s a chance he might never wake up.”

I gripped the sheets with my good hand. He wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t alive either. Caught between, like my mother had been during the time I’d spent at Eden Manor when the council had tested me. Except Henry was immortal, and he would have no release.

I didn’t know what was worse—death or this.

“Theo stopped the spread, but Henry was stabbed in the chest,” said James. He approached the bed and took my hand, grasping it gently. My fingers twitched. “We don’t know how bad the damage is. Or if Henry will ever recover enough to wake up.”

“Is—is there a cure? A way to fix him?”

“There’s nothing we can do,” said James, and on my other side, my mother dabbed the corners of her eyes with a tissue. “We just have to wait.”

My throat constricted. There had to be a way. There always was. If Henry could bring me back from the dead, then I could find a way to do the same for him. “What about Cronus? Couldn’t he do something?”

Dead silence. Seconds ticked by, and without warning, my mother and James started talking at once.

“I can’t possibly allow—”

“Even if he could, do you really think—”

They both stopped and stared at each other, and finally my mother went first.

“You are not going back there, sweetheart,” she said. “It’s a miracle Henry got you out in the first place, and he risked everything for you. He wouldn’t want you to walk back into that. You know he wouldn’t.”

If it was just me, then my mother would have been right. However, it wasn’t just about me anymore. It was about Milo, too. I might’ve been powerless to rescue our son, but if Henry could save me, then he could save him, as well. And if there was a way I could help Henry—if there was a way I could give Milo the father he deserved, then I had to try.

“Can Cronus help Henry?” I said again in as steady a voice as I could muster.

James leaned in closer, clasping my hand in his. “Yes,” he admitted. “He could. But even if you did go back to Cronus, he wouldn’t undo the damage he’s already done to Henry. You know he wouldn’t.”

“Right,” I whispered. James was wrong, though. If Cronus had enough incentive, he might. And I wasn’t going to give up just because they insisted there was no point in trying. Even if it meant marching straight up to Cronus and giving him everything, I would really do it if it meant Henry might live.

* * *

While bedridden, I planned.

Every word I’d say, every argument I’d use, everything I’d offer Cronus to make him save Henry. Layer after layer of blueprints that would give Henry his life back and our son a father. Whatever it took.

I spent my hours with Milo, watching him sleep, watching as Ava changed him, watching as Calliope attempted to coax him to eat from a bottle. To my immense satisfaction, he refused.

“You must eat,” said Calliope sternly as she offered yet another warm bottle to my son. He turned his head away, his face scrunched up and bright red from crying, and she narrowed her eyes. “Callum, you must.”

Callum after herself, undoubtedly. He was Milo, not Callum, and no matter how long he stayed with that bitch, he would never be hers.

However, as the hours turned into one day, then two, my worry surpassed my hatred for Calliope. Milo wasn’t eating. He fussed in his sleep, and when he was awake, his eyes constantly leaked with tears. He was miserable.

I didn’t know what to do. Was there anything at all, other than storming the palace and demanding Calliope give him back to me? It wouldn’t work anyway. I could have the entire council backing me up, but without Henry, it would be nothing more than an exercise in defeat. Cronus would keep me, Calliope would hide my son away, and he would only grow weaker.

“Come on, Milo,” I whispered as I leaned over his crib. For the umpteenth time, I tried to touch him, but once again my fingers passed through his cheek. “I’m sorry I’m not here. If I had any choice...” My voice caught in my throat. “I know Calliope’s horrible, but you need to eat. You need to be healthy and strong for when I finally get to be with you again.”

At last he opened his blue eyes, and in that moment, I swore he saw me.

“There you are.” I gave him a watery smile. “You’re beautiful, you know. You put Adonis to shame.”

His whimpers quieted, and he lifted his arms, as if he were reaching for me. I tried to touch him again, but it still didn’t work. I’d never stop trying, though.