Ink of Copper

71. In Which the King of Death Leads to Healing

Chapter 71

In Which the King of Death Leads to Healing

Modern-day Palace of Hades in the Underworld

W hen they arrived, Liam’s mangled body was taken to the surgery, and Callassa refused to leave his side. He had been unconscious for days, and it worried her how long he was taking to heal. Most on Olympus recovered quickly, a perk of being immortal, but not Liam. She was braced against the wall, watching the flutter of daemons at work all around him. They moved in a graceful dance, chattering in their native tongue, weaving in and out of each other. Liam lay on his stomach, gauze stretching over his back and wings. Large portions of feathers on one wing were gone, the other mangled.

“You wouldn’t think they would be so proficient in healing as they are,” the deep timbre of Hades rumbled beside her.

Callassa gave him a look and nodded. He was nothing like the stories she had been told as a fledgling. Hades was tall—taller than her or Evander. He was dark in every sense of the word, dark complected, leathery wings, black eyes. His palace was dark stone, dark corridors devoid of sunlight. Across one arm, flowing up to his chest and neck, were a series of tattoos, the meanings of which she didn’t know. When Camulos showed up inside his palace with their beaten and bruised company, Hades had extended an invitation to stay. An oddity that seemed at war with everything known about him. And so, in the kingdom made for the dead, four friends tried to pick up the pieces of their destroyed lives.

“It is odd to see daemons working to help recover someone instead of tearing them apart.”

Hades nodded. “Persephone has them trained well. I was against it, but it has come in handy a time or two.” He turned toward her, his massive arms coming across his barreled chest. “I don’t know that I would be as calm as you are if I had found my Kore in the same manner you found your mate.”

She glanced up at him; her dark-brown eyes flashed as a muscle ticked in her jaw.

“I’m not calm.” She stared at Liam, who flinched as a cloth strip lay over his shoulder. “I will rip Aerelia wing-from-wing and burn the pieces the moment I find her. She will wish she had killed me when she had the chance.”

Hades agreed. “I’d be honored to hold her down while you do, Your Majesty.”

“I might let you, Your Majesty.”

Flashing another hard look at Hades, she walked to Liam. In seconds, the daemon nursemaids had pulled up a chair, and Callassa collapsed into it. She leaned forward, laying her head next to him, stroking his curls, and trying her best not to fall entirely apart. She stayed there for hours. Every groan, every wince was agony. Her own body was healing, but his wounds were taking the longest. Laying a cool cloth along the back of his neck, she did her best to comfort him as his body convulsed from the stress. Sometime during the night, Callassa fell asleep, her head on his mattress, her hand on his body, not wanting to leave him.

Her hair was brushed aside awkwardly, clumsily. Callassa leaned into the soft touch as it swept her forehead. Jerking her head up, she looked down to see Liam staring at her with one good eye.

“Liam? Oh, gods, you’re awake!” she whispered and leaned in close, relief washing over her.

His fingers wiggled toward her, and she grabbed at them. Liam licked his bottom lip; the split in the middle gleamed in the candlelight.

“Water.” His voice was raspy like dry leaves.

Immediately, she reached for the pitcher on his bedside and poured him a drink. She helped him to sit up, his movements causing him to wince in pain; he took a sip and then another, then collapsed back onto the pillows.

“You look tired, love.” His soft brogue floated over her.

Callassa let out a strangled half-laugh of relief. She had held herself together over the last few days, sat beside him, refusing to leave, feeling every hurt and pain of his torture and his healing. The well-established dam she built to protect herself cracked, and emotions poured out in a flood. Bursting into tears, her body rocked as sobs tore through her. Her eyes flooded as she took in his bruised and beaten face, his battered body, and it broke her. Laying her head back onto the mattress, she soaked a ring into the sheet, gasping for breath as she did.

“ Mo chuisle mo chroí ,” his voice soft, he cooed at her. He laid a battered hand on the top of her head. He was met with more sobs from Callassa’s bent frame.

“Look at me, Callassa,” he said.

She picked up her head, her cheeks wet, tears streaming, dropping onto the blankets.

“I’m alright. I’m alright.”

She wiped her face, but not before more tears spilled their banks.

He wiggled his body over, grunting in pain as he did.

“Come here, my love.”

Callassa didn’t hesitate. She climbed into the small cot, curling herself around him as best she could, careful not to hurt him. Gingerly, she lay her head next to his and his arm came around her, patting her side. She lay for several minutes, sobs turning into hiccups. Taking a few shaky breaths, she quieted down.

“I thought I lost you.” She sniffed.

Liam squeezed her as best he could and grunted.

“I’m not going anywhere, a chroí .”

“You took my place. Liam, why? Why did you take my place?” Fresh tears welled in her eyes and spilled over her cheeks. “I deserved my punishment. I’m the one she wanted. It should have been me . . . You are kind and good; I am nothing. Why, Liam, why take my place?”

The one side of his face that could lifted in a mangled smile. “I meant what I said when I vowed my loyalty to you. I will do everything in my power to protect you as my queen and my mate.”

A sob escaped her. “I never wanted this.”

“I wasn’t going to let her kill you, and she would have. This will heal.”

Callassa touched one of his wings, running her hands over the feathers, watching the reds and browns glistening in the light. Liam closed his eyes at her touch and then slowly opened them.

“It will heal, a chuisle .”

“But what if it scars? Your beautiful wings.”

“It will be okay.” He gave his head a little shake. “I’d do it again.”

Callassa’s face fell, and she shook her head from side to side, “No, you wouldn’t. Don’t say that.”

“Yes,” Liam said sternly. “I would. When I saw you strung up and helpless at her mercy, I wanted to tear her to pieces. I offered the Dark Oracle something she couldn’t refuse, because I knew I couldn’t beat her alone. I offered her time. Time for you to save me, and I knew you would find a way to save me. I hung on, Callassa. I hung on and heard you through our bond, saying you were coming. To not let the darkness win. I clung to that like a prayer.”

Callassa still shook her head, smoothing her hand over his hair, tracing the side of his face with her fingertips.

“How did you find me?” she asked quietly. “How did you escape, Valerius?”

Liam sighed and closed his eyes. “I gave him the only thing of value I had.”

Callassa sat up and covered her mouth with her hand. “No. No! Liam, no.”

“I had nothing to bargain with but my soul, love. If I had a second soul, I’d give that up too to keep you safe.” He sighed and coughed, wincing in pain. “I had no company, no backup, and my mate needed me.”

“No.” Her heart was in her throat, but he smiled at her as best he could.

He patted her side again and let out a painful breath. “You have been a pillar of strength for far too long. I will never allow any harm to come to you so long as there is breath in my lungs. If a few scars and bruises are the price I had to pay to protect my queen, I welcome them. And I will do it again and again.”

Callassa snuggled into him, wanting to pull him closer, reassuring herself that this was real, that she wasn’t dreaming.

“Liam?”

Callassa snapped her head at Evander’s voice coming from the doorframe. He tentatively descended two stone steps into the room, ducking under several dried herbs hanging from the ceiling. She moved quickly, blocking him with her wings. While she knew the company had split, and Evander and Camulos hadn’t abandoned Liam, she didn’t trust them. If Liam could give up his soul to keep her safe, she would gladly take Evander’s life for his.

“You’re awake.” His words landed soft around them, unsure.

Liam grunted and took in another shaky, pain-filled breath. “I’m awake.”

“Liam,” he looked at his hands and then to Liam’s face. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I ask it all the same. I didn’t want to leave you to face Valerius alone, to go after Aerelia without me. That wasn’t my choice, but I beg your forgiveness, deartháir . I don’t care that you are siren; your species matters not. I see now why you acted the way you did, that you could no more help falling for Callassa than I for Ellie. I have been such an ass.”

Liam snorted. “You have. A mighty large one.”

“I know.”

“A giant horse’s ass.”

“Yes, I know.”

“A right shitehawk.”

Evander thinned his lips and gave Liam a pointed look.

“A fucking tool.”

He didn’t respond but his eyes darted between the pair.

“A pile of—”

“Alright, yes, I’m an idiot.”

“Just so we are clear.” Liam nodded his head, but in his eye, mischief played.

“We tried to find you, but you broke the bond. Camulos, myself, we returned to Valerius. We tried to bargain but were rejected. And we couldn’t go to Tartarus without permission. You were abandoned by us to face this alone. But more than that, I abandoned you when you needed me most. It will never happen again.”

Then he turned and looked at Callassa, bowing his head. “Your Majesty, I humbly ask for your forgiveness as well. Your people are my own. I am indebted to you for the rescue of my brother.”

Callassa’s face hardened. “I’m not as quick to forgive as Liam.” She leveled her chin at him. “You will need to earn my forgiveness.”

“I expect nothing less.” He nodded at her and stood to go, but Liam reached out. Grabbing his forearm in a grip, Evander squeezed and let go, crossing the room. Turning in the door frame, he looked back at Callassa. “I meant what I said, Callassa. I am indebted to you.”

“And Max?” Her voice was sharp.

“Max can hang.”

She was healing, although her muscles ached, and her shoulder felt like fire anytime she moved. Ellie sat shakily on the side of the cot as a daemon cleaned her bandage. Evander was fluttering around her. He could not sit still for longer than a few minutes, pacing as the daemons worked. He had been impossible when they came to the Underworld—marching around, huffing, and ordering daemons about. Evander became even more unreasonable when Persephone stitched up her shoulder, letting out a roar when Ellie protested with a whimper. His hands scrubbed through his hair as if he could pull it out. Every hiss or groan and Evander came undone, so much so that Persephone ordered him from the room. She had healed some since then, but he still hovered like a mother hen. In any other circumstance, she would have been annoyed, but Ellie had learned that this was Evander’s way. He wanted to care for her, and she was finally able to let him.

“I’m fine,” she said for the thousandth time.

He came close, the corners of his eyes creased with worry. “Your beautiful face.” He tenderly stroked down the side without the massive bruise from where she struck the stone ground.

“It’s better than yesterday, at least.”

Letting out a low grunt in protest, he pursed his lips together. Taking his offered hand, she slipped off the table. She was still off balance with her arm in a sling. He held on to her, and she wrapped her arm around him.

“I’m okay,” Ellie said softly, looking up at him. “I’ll have a cool battle scar.”

She was desperately trying to lighten the mood and help him focus on anything else. Evander winced at the sight of her bruises. Leaning forward, he laid a kiss on her purple temple.

The room surrounding them buzzed with activity as the daemons moved about. Persephone’s apothecary was smaller than the infirmary. One wall had cabinets with dried herbs shoved on top; from the ceiling hung dried flowers and herbs upside down in haphazard rows. Glass containers and bottles filled every shelf behind the glass doors of the wooden furnishings. On the bottom of one, across a table, stood rows and rows of thick books.

“Stop worrying, Your Highness.”

He jerked his head back, a wide smile playing on his lips. “What did you call me?”

The edges of her mouth curled into a coy smile. “Your Highness.”

Tapping her nose, he brushed a curl back behind her ear. “You haven’t called me that in a long time.”

“You haven’t acted like a royal pain in my ass in a long time.”

He snorted a laugh through his nose, making a most indelicate sound.

“I see you’re feeling better, Ellie.”

She snapped her head up to see Persephone standing in the doorway. When they had come to the Underworld, Ellie had almost fainted at the sight of Hades. But it was Persephone that had her the most giddy. Of all the goddesses she secretly wanted to meet, Persephone was at the top of the list. Smiling from the doorway, she sauntered towards them, and Ellie and Evander both bowed their heads.

“I apologize for being a bit absent.”

Ellie noticed she wasn’t wearing shoes, making her love the goddess even more. Her wings were delicate, shining like gossamer. She looked like a fairy in a book Ellie had as a child. Wrapped around her was a long piece of fabric that swaddled a tiny treasure. One hand absentmindedly patted a small round lump in the cloth.

“This little one is a fussy one today.” She beamed at them and walked over to the table Ellie had just vacated in the middle of the room. Speaking in the dialect of the daemons, the nursemaids rushed about and then left the room.

“I was coming to ask you if you’d like tea?”

“How old?” Ellie asked, interrupting her. She snapped her mouth closed and popped a hand over it. “I apologize, Your Majesty.”

Persephone just smiled. “It’s quite alright. I stand on less formalities than my grump of a husband.” Lowering one side of the fabric, she turned so Ellie could see the sweet, tender face. Her cheeks held that baby-soft glow, and her little bow mouth smiled in her sleep. She had long dark eyelashes that rested atop chubby cheeks. “Just a few weeks now.”

“She’s precious,” Ellie whispered, wrinkling her nose as she grinned.

“I think so,” Persephone said, replacing the fabric over the baby’s head. “How are you healing?”

Ellie looked up at Evander, whose forehead had creased.

“Better than when I first came. My arm hurts like crazy, though.”

Persephone nodded. “I should have some herbs to help, but you should be healed in a few more days. Ichor blood courses through you; it will aid in your healing. Tea?” Arching a delicate, blonde eyebrow at Ellie, she motioned towards the doorway. “Don’t worry, Evander, I shall take good care of her.”

Dismissing him with a wave of her hand, she motioned again to Ellie. Following Persephone through several large corridors, they walked along the palace halls. It was dark inside and out, with no sunshine through the windows and no light except for candles or chandeliers overhead. But the palace also felt cozy somehow. With very little in the way of furnishings, the appearance of fresh-cut flowers shoved into random makeshift vases gave an inviting feel, if not a little chaotic. The two entered a chamber with a long wooden table down the middle. Persephone motioned for her to sit as she made her way to a small table nearby. She set about preparing the tea as Ellie looked around the room. The heavy wooden table occupied most of the space, with chairs lining both sides. Two large candelabras stood at each end, lighting the surface below. Long, black candles in various degrees of use were shoved in the holders. Several pieces of clay pottery, animal skulls, and other trinkets lay on the table, flowers haphazardly placed in them. Wheat lay scattered about or bundled into some of the pots with flowers sticking out. Skulls sat upturned; one had flowers sticking out of the eye socket, and others had wheat laid atop, tied with ribbon.

Ellie’s eyes traveled around the room and stopped at the various artworks, each depicting scenes from hell. One wall displayed paintings of fire and brimstone, bodies stuck in silent screams. Under one painting was a table laden with flowers and wheat and a beautiful sculpture of a naked Persephone dancing with a ribbon in her hand. The marriage of life and death displayed in all its forms around her.

Persephone sat in the chair at the head of the table, the tea service between them. She poured into delicate bone china, and a delightful aroma wafted in the air. Ellie took it, and one side of her lips tweaked up as she noticed the design encircling the cup depicted one of the circles of hell from Dante’s Inferno. Ellie took a sip.

“Oh my, that’s good,” she said, licking her lips at the sweet, floral taste.

“It’s my special blend.”

Persephone took a sip and settled herself and the baby into the seat. Pulling her feet up, she crossed them, patting the baby’s bottom through the fabric—the goddess of spring, content in a kingdom of death. It filled Ellie with hope. Ever since she came to Olympus, doubts had plagued her, though she hadn’t voiced them or wanted to name them. Doubts she would ever rise to whatever occasion called for her weird set of skills. Doubts she was, in fact, the destroyer of this world. Doubts even in her feelings for Evander. That last thought struck her heart. She had doubted her feelings, waiting for his honeyed words to turn sour, for his fiery touch to turn to ice. Wrestling against her head and heart had kept her silent for weeks now. She didn’t want to make a second mistake, because, she feared, she might not get over the heartbreak if it turned out Evander grew to hate her as Penn had. Taking a sip of tea, she added a cube of sugar. Her thoughts rattled in her brain, pinging off one another. Persephone cocked her head and set her cup on the saucer. She had been watching Ellie intently and had come to some conclusion.

“I wanted to talk to you alone.” Her voice was soft but serious.

“Okay.” Ellie twisted her lips and sat back in the seat.

“My home is yours to use as long as your company needs. We are very fond of Camulos and trust him.”

Ellie nodded.

“But,” her eyes flashed dark and stony, “my family comes before you. Before your company or your life.” Lowering her chin, her jaw set. “You are safe here, as Athena wouldn’t dare come without an invitation; however, I will not risk my family or anyone who lives in my kingdom for the squabbles of the Olympians.”

Ellie nodded again, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. The look on Persephone’s face had her shrinking back in her chair—the bringer of destruction indeed. Patting the new princess’ bottom, the Queen of the Underworld calmly laid out what coming here would cost them if they didn’t play by her rules. And something told Ellie that anyone bold enough to ask the rulers of death for help, fell in line with the queen. She continued as Ellie gulped past a lump suddenly in her throat.

“Hades has agreed with Valerius, especially now that the Titans and the Dark Oracle have been released from their cages.”

“Valerius?”

Persephone cocked her head to one side. “Yes. He came several weeks ago, pleading his case and asking for assistance. He feared your blood would be spilled and needed a backup plan.”

“Pleaded his case?”

The queen snorted, her eyes tightening at the corners at the interruption. “Like I was saying, he came to speak to Hades. Athena can be stubborn and insufferable, but once we learned that Ares had aligned his armies with hers, and Athena declared war on the Celestial Legion, Hades thought it wise to ask Apollo to join, as his centurions would be of great help in—”

“I don’t understand.” Ellie was shaking her head. Nothing Persephone said made any sense. Valerius wanted his mate imprisoned? Athena had declared war? When had all of this occurred?

“What don’t you understand?”

Ellie’s mouth was agape. “Any of it.”

A crease formed between her eyebrows, and Persephone huffed through her nose. “Which parts?”

“Valerius wants his mate in prison, for starters. He kidnapped me, sent daemons after me, held me in a cage.”

She arched an eyebrow again, confusion written on her face as much as Ellie’s. “The Serathena’s blood unlocked the prison doors, part of how Pandora created the prison in the first place. It was his way of ensuring your blood didn’t spill.”

“Wait, what?”

“Who do you think imprisoned her?”

Ellie’s mouth dropped to the floor. She couldn’t wrap her mind around what Persephone was saying. Valerius had kidnapped her to keep her safe? It didn’t make sense. Persephone must have noticed the look on her face because she reached over and patted her arm.

“You have no idea what is going on, do you?” Genuine concern crossed her delicate features.

Ellie shook her head, and Persephone patted her arm again.

“Well, little one, we have much to discuss then.”

Later that evening, the two women sat before the fireplace, exchanging pleasantries and laughing. Evander watched them from across the room, not wanting to intrude. Ellie had glanced up several times, catching his eye and smiling. They exchanged words with just looks as Ellie listened to Persephone tell story after story about Hades, her faithful griffins sitting at their feet. Her head was still reeling from finding out that Valerius was also trying to protect her in his own way. Protecting her by caging her, lying to her, tormenting her with that damn story of Evander didn’t make her want to run out and trust him. But it did make her feel sorry for him. When she looked over again, Hades had joined Evander to stare at the two of them.

“Would you like to hold her?” Persephone said as the baby wiggled and stretched her tiny fist into the air. Ellie stuck out her unbattered arm so Persephone could nestle the baby in it. She glanced to where Evander stood.

“She’s a beauty, is she not?” Hades startled him when he spoke, rattling him out of his thoughts.

Evander nodded, leaning against the sideboard. He glanced up and bowed his head in reverence. “She certainly is, Your Majesty.”

“I was speaking of your chosen lover,” he said with a flick of his chin.

Evander let a half-smile curl his lips. “Yes, she certainly is.”

“It is rare to find such a jewel. Soft and yet stitched together with iron. Your lover is a gentle soul. I hope you realize what a gift you have been given.”

He nodded, watching Ellie as she cooed at the little princess and smiled. “I knew it the moment she looked at me.”

Hades watched the two women, his enormous arms crossed over his chest. His gaze followed his wife and new daughter’s every move.

“I know what you mean.”