Chapter 48
The True Labyrinth Down Here
LYRA
Boone is still gone.
It’s a truth that snags at me like the bare limbs of trees reaching for lost souls in a darkened winter wood.
The worst part is, there’s nothing I can do but wait.
My internal thoughts must come out externally, because Iapetus suddenly says, “What was that, Lyra?”
I can’t see him because of the blindfold over my eyes, but I tilt my head in his direction.
Theia, Hyperion, and Koios have all been taking this time to help me memorize the paths and doors through the myriad tunnels carved throughout the rock prison of Tartarus.
Tunnels that they apparently expanded on themselves, first while trying to escape, and later to hide from the Pandemonium.
Which is also why they are helping me memorize everything—safety for when the Pandemonium come, so I have places to hide no matter where I am.
Also, apparently, so I don’t get lost if I have to run.
And, for whatever reason, Iapetus decided that he should be the one to test what I’ve learned.
He and I are in a better place than we were, after what I saw in the past, but I’m still pissed at him for dumping me down that Lock. “What was what?” I ask him.
“That noise you just made.”
I guess I did make that out loud. “Just me thinking.”
“And thinking requires noise?” he prods.
I turn my head in the direction of his voice. “You can feel free to think out loud less.”
A laugh turned into a cough sounds behind us. Hyperion, I think. The other three, plus Cronos, all joined us to observe this test.
“Keep going,” Iapetus grouses.
“You wanted to talk, not me.” I keep walking, trailing my fingertips along the roughly carved tunnel walls, counting turns and doors.
Unfortunately, that doesn’t shut him up. “I just am curious why you do that. The talking.”
“And the humming,” Theia tacks on.
Oh hells. Have I been humming? I swallow. I’ve been trying so hard not to.
As far as I can tell, the reason she, Koios, and Hyperion all are my teachers for this is because they all glow in different ways. They light the way through, and bringing multiple is a contingency if we have to split up.
I tap my finger against the handle of my axe strapped to my leg. “It relaxes me.”
“So it’s a tell.” Iapetus is still harping.
“Yes.”
He makes an annoyed sound at the back of his throat, and I smile, because making him annoyed is quickly becoming a favorite pastime. Immature? Yes. Satisfying? Very.
He makes the noise again, probably thanks to my smile. “So why don’t you stop yourself—”
“Shut up, Iapetus,” Theia and Hyperion say in unison. As usual, Koios stays quiet.
I don’t join them. The thing is, he’s right. I really need to stop.
“I was just curious,” Iapetus grumbles.
The way he says that snags at my ears. I pause to lower my blindfold and blink in the glows coming off the Titans.
The pinks and purples and oranges of Hyperion’s sunrise blend with the greens and purples of Koios’ northern lights, brighter in the total blackness of the tunnel.
Theia has her fists closed around the light that comes from her hands.
I study Iapetus’ face in the twinkling and blink. Am I reading him right? He’s not being an asshole about this. “Wait. Have I made noises in the times I’ve been down here before this?”
The way he glances to Cronos, who shrugs, tells me the answer even before he says, “It’s new.”
Ah. I look down to my feet. A coping mechanism from the effects of my curse, maybe? Zeus and I really need to have a chat when I get out of here. I look back up. “It just comes out when my brain is working through things.” Or when I’m nervous.
For once, Iapetus doesn’t grumble or make a snarky comment. He just nods. Then gently pulls my blindfold back into place. “Where are we?”
That’s easy. The groans coming from just ahead tell me exactly where.
“Two more doors down is Tantalus.” The man who served his own son as a meal to the gods.
His punishment is eternity without ever feeling satisfied by any meal.
I think he got off easy. I would have given him much more pain—something like what Prometheus got for sharing fire with humanity.
The whole eagle-eating-his-liver-every-day thing.
“Then the next left takes us down the loop back to one of the exits to the pillars.”
“Good,” he says.
I very much ignore the feeling of pride trying to puff up inside me at the single word from the critical Titan.
“Keep going.”
I force myself to move, hand trailing along the way, and we’ve already turned down the tunnel to the pillars when Theia suddenly gives a little chuckle.
“Do you remember how Koios’ and Pheobe’s daughter, Asteria, used to stick her tongue out when she was thinking, and it would make her snort every time she breathed out? ”
Theia doesn’t tend to make conversation, as she’s usually in a hurry to get back to Tethys, who doesn’t like to have her sister out of her sight. The frail Titaness only seems at ease with Theia nearby. So Theia tends to rush these lessons.
“I think Koios actually smiled,” she says a second later.
“She was…precious,” Koios says in his even cadence.
Iapetus chuckles. “She was like the cutest little piggy. Snorting and snuffling.”
“Are you calling my child a pig?” Koios snaps. No more smile, I guess.
“Theia brought it up,” Iapetus insists. There’s a rustle of clothing. I think he might be pointing at the Titaness.
A smack sounds close enough that I’m pretty sure she thumped him in the forehead. “But I didn’t call her a pig,” she says.
I duck my head to hide another smile. The second time in a few minutes. It feels weird on my face, but they sound like what I always pictured a family sounding like. And the thing is, I’m learning that this is how they always sound—like a squabbling, teasing, affectionate family.
The thieves were similar in some ways. Obviously, many made friends or at least allies within our ranks, but there was always a wedge of competition driven between us. And of course, thanks to my curse, I was always only looking in from the outside at moments like these.
But now it doesn’t feel like I’m on the outside. Even though I should be.
I make a face at that thought.
Cronos clears his throat. “You can ignore them,” he says softly, closer than I realized he was. He’s been oddly quiet this whole time. “Especially Iapetus. But eventually, you get used to…them…”
The way he trails off makes me want to stop and look at his face, but I keep going. “We’ve done this before?”
There’s a short pause. “Not exactly like this.”
Iapetus sighs. “Cronos is always very grumpy until you figure out that you can trust us.”
“I’m not the only one,” Cronos grumbles. “Iapetus, you—”
I run into something that knocks my blindfold wonky, letting me see that the something is Iapetus, who is glaring over my head at his brother. “Don’t bring me into this,” he says as he sets me back from him, hands steadying at my shoulders.
Theia snickers.
I must be more like the two Titans than I realized, because the warmth that sparks in my chest is something I don’t know how to deal with. So what I say next comes out just as grumpy-sounding as they are…and maybe a little out of left field. “I’m finding all the glamouring around here distracting.”