Chapter 31
Chapter thirty-one
ILIANA
The thought of Hermes being ordered to kill her turned Iliana’s stomach. She couldn’t explain why, but deep down, she knew he wouldn’t harm her. Just as she believed Thanatos, Anubis, and Hypnos wouldn’t. But that certainty only raised more questions. Why was she so sure?
Sorting through her odd feelings about Hermes and his intentions would have to wait, though. There was still so much more she didn’t know.
“Let’s get back to the Fates.” The thought of meeting them sent a ripple of unease through her. “I should know more about them before I walk into their lair and find out what they have in store for me.”
“What do you know of them?” Thanatos asked.
Iliana searched her memory. “I know there are three…sisters? I think I remember something about them being old women and sharing an eye?”
His laugh startled her—deep, warm, and unexpectedly unguarded. He seemed surprised by it.
“Sorry,” he said after composing himself, still looking mildly surprised by his own amusement.
“They have presented themselves as hags before, but that is not their true form. And no, they do not share a physical eye, only a shared sight regarding visions of destiny. You are thinking of a different trio of sisters, the Graeae. Clotho loved starting that rumor among ancient poets.” His lips twitched.
“And that confusion still lingers in the world.”
Iliana cocked her head. “Clotho, is she one of the Fates?”
He nodded. “Yes. She’s the spinner. She weaves the thread of fate when a mortal is born.”
She tried to picture it. “So, everyone gets a thread? Like, literally?”
“When they wish it, yes. Most are metaphorical,” he clarified. “But yes. Your thread was spun the moment you came into the world.”
The thought of her entire life being reduced to a string made her shiver. “And the other two?”
“Lachesis measures the thread. She determines how long it should be—your lifespan. She places the trials you will face.”
“She sounds fun at parties,” Iliana muttered.
Thanatos smiled, despite the serious topic. “And Atropos…” His look darkened slightly. “She’s the one who cuts the thread. At the end.”
Iliana’s hand went unconsciously to her throat. “Cuts it. You mean—”
“When your life ends, yes.”
How many times had Atropos nearly snipped her string? At the very least, her thread would show fraying in several locations. “Do other gods influence them?” she asked. “Do they cut a mortal’s life short because of someone else’s demand?”
Thanatos shook his head. “No, not even Zeus has the power to force them to shorten or extend a life. They have been tricked before but are never controlled. They are fanatical in their belief that fate must remain untouched.”
“So, you’re telling me humans don’t actually have a choice in their fate? What’s the point of fighting if my ending is already written, or spun? How do I know that struggling won’t just lead me to the same outcome, only more exhausted?”
I have no control.
The thought sank into her, heavy as a stone, threatening to drown her in hopelessness.
Warm hands cupped her cheeks, his broad palms framing her face. She tried to look away, but he angled her face up until she had no choice but to meet his eyes. They were intense, as if refusing to let her drown alone.
His touch steadied her. It cut through the despair threatening to pull her under.
“Every mortal has a choice in their fate, Iliana.” His voice was urgent in a way she’d never heard from him before.
She wanted to believe him. Gods, she wanted to.
“The Moirai see possibilities, not absolutes,” he continued. His palms remained on her face, his thumb caressing her cheekbone. “Every choice you make changes the outcome.”
“But how can you know that? If they already spun my—”
“Clotho does not spin one path. She weaves in every possibility,” he said, as if willing her to understand.
She frowned. “So Lachesis chooses the moment I die?”
“No, she marks moments where your choices will matter most,” he said kindly. “Atropos is much the same. There is no fixed moment in time when she will cut your thread. When she does, it will be based on whatever decisions you make in your life.”
“So, I still have time.” It wasn’t quite a question.
“You have choices,” he noted gently. “And that means you have a chance.”
She wanted to believe, to cling to the idea that she wasn’t powerless. Thanatos’ words were more than reassurance. They were hope.
He leaned in. “Every decision you make changes the path of your fate, and you create that path. Do not forget that. You could have done nothing, just let us protect you, but you chose to fight.”
She wanted to say something, needed to, but all she could see was the space between them.
How close he was. How his golden-brown eyes focused on hers.
For a moment, she questioned whether this was the right decision, whether giving in to this would alter everything.
The uncertainty was short-lived, vanishing in the next instant.
And then she stopped thinking. She chose.
Closing the distance, she kissed him.
Thanatos groaned against her mouth, pulling her close. His lips were demanding; consuming. The restraint he’d shown before was gone. His earthy scent filled her senses, soothing and intoxicating.
Heat flared inside her. She splayed her hand across his chest, needing to anchor herself.
She wanted more.
Just as the thought crossed her mind, Thanatos pulled away. He sat back against the other arm of the couch, putting distance between them.
Iliana touched her lips, still sensing the heat of his kiss. She had to force herself not to close the distance between them again.
Thanatos cleared his throat, his gaze flicking from her lips to her eyes before he composed himself.
Whatever emotions had burned in his eyes faded, replaced by his usual steady demeanor.
When he spoke again, he sounded more like himself, but she still caught the roughness underneath his more serious tone.
“The Moirai rarely meet with mortals, gods, or even their own family outside their duties,” he said, his tone more controlled now. “If they want to see you, it means your destiny is something they cannot ignore.”
Destiny. The Fates.
She latched onto one piece of his statement. “You said ‘family.’ Who are they related to?”
Thanatos looked at her and smiled. “The Fates are my sisters.”