Chapter 22
Elara's POV
The morning light spilled through the tall windows, gilding her room in a soft glow.
Elara sat on the edge of her bed, fingers curled in the sheets.
She hadn't slept much. Every time she closed her eyes, the garden returned to her — the deep rumble of Cerberus's breath, the warm feel of his fur under her palm, and then. .. Hades.
She touched the side of her face where he had brushed her hair back. The memory was sharper than it should have been, and it unsettled her. He probably didn't even think twice about it, she told herself. I'm just overthinking.
But the truth was harder to ignore: when he'd touched her, the world had felt still. And she couldn't decide if she was more unnerved by his closeness or by how much she didn't mind it.
With a heavy exhale, she forced herself to move.
Dwelling wouldn't help. She pulled on a soft gown the palace maids had left, simple but elegant, and smoothed her hands down the fabric as though that could press her nerves flat.
Today, she told herself, she would focus on what mattered: the library.
Answers. Something to help her understand why she was here.
Book clutched to her chest, she stepped into the long marble corridors.
?
Hades's POV
The Underworld rarely slept, but Hades had not rested. He had sat long into the night in his study, documents untouched before him, fingers drumming against the table as his thoughts circled the same thing: her.
He had seen wonders that would drive mortals to madness, but nothing compared to what he'd witnessed last night.
Cerberus, the fiercest of beasts, bowing to her touch like a gentle pup.
And her... looking up at him with eyes both defiant and unsure as though she hadn't realized what she had just done.
But it wasn't only that. No, it was the way she made him feel. The ghost of her hair still lingered against his fingers, soft, forbidden. He had crossed a line — one he told himself he would never blur. She was mortal. Temporary. A bridge between worlds, not his to hold onto.
And yet...
He pushed the thought away as he rose from his chair. His duties awaited, and with them, a distraction. His steps echoed down the palace corridors toward his office, papers tucked neatly under his arm.
?
The palace was vast, yet fate had a way of drawing two paths into one.
Turning the corner, Elara nearly collided with him. She froze mid-step, heart lurching. Hades halted just as quickly, papers shifting in his grasp. For a moment, the silence between them hummed with the memory of last night.
"Good morning," she murmured, her voice soft, almost hesitant.
His gaze lingered on her longer than necessary before he inclined his head, voice low and steady. "Good morning, Elara."
The way he said her name carried a weight she couldn't quite name. She clutched her book tighter, shifting to let him pass, but the hallway narrowed where they stood. He gestured with one hand for her to go ahead, but as she stepped forward, their arms brushed.
It was nothing, a fleeting contact — yet it sparked through her skin like fire. She drew in a sharp breath and kept walking, her back straight, refusing to look back.
Hades stood where he was, watching her retreating figure. Something twisted in his chest, a quiet ache he hadn't felt in centuries.
Careful, he warned himself. She is not yours to keep.
And yet, long after she disappeared down the corridor, he found himself still standing there, caught between duty and the pull of something far more dangerous.