Chapter 7
Elara
The door to my chamber was heavy enough that I had to lean my shoulder into it to make it move. The faint creak sounded far too loud in the silence, and I froze halfway through, heart in my throat.
I wasn't sure why I'd opened it at all. Maybe it was the stillness of the room, or the way the pale silver light from the balcony outside had been calling to me. Maybe it was because the man—god?—who had saved me from Kieran had left me with more questions than I could stand.
I peeked down the long, dim corridor. The air here was cooler than the warmth of my chamber, carrying with it the faint scent of rain on stone. Torches burned low in their sconces, casting shifting shadows along the walls.
My bare feet made no sound on the polished floor as I stepped out. Every few paces, I glanced over my shoulder, half-expecting him to appear out of the darkness.
The palace was strange—grand, but not in a way that screamed for attention.
Its beauty was quieter, woven into the curved archways and the way the stone seemed to drink in the moonlight.
I passed wide windows draped in silks the color of midnight, their edges stirring as if an unseen breeze had wandered through.
Somewhere ahead, faint voices drifted through the hall. I stilled, straining to hear.
"...not like the others," a low, male voice said. Not Hades. Someone else.
"She should not be here."
"She is here," came the reply, deep and certain, and my breath caught. That one I recognized.
Hades.
I crept closer, every instinct screaming that this was a bad idea, but I couldn't stop myself. I found the edge of an open doorway and pressed my back to the wall, tilting my head just enough to listen.
"You have not brought a mortal here in years," the first voice continued. "It is not wise to grow attached."
Attached. My chest tightened.
"She is... different," Hades said after a pause. "I cannot explain it yet."
The silence that followed was heavier than the stone beneath my feet. My pulse was loud in my ears, my palms damp.
I didn't know whether to run back to my room or step inside and demand answers. But before I could decide, I felt it—that prickle along the back of my neck.
He knew I was here.