Awakenings

[This post is from Seamus’s point of view.]

Leinth grew tense, her arms tightening. Seamus stared at nothing, jaw getting tighter and tighter, muscles coiling into overwrought springs. Leinth leaned back for a second, peering up into his face. He wasn’t sure what she was searching for, but he thought it was likely she wouldn’t find it.

“What’s wrong?” she asked in a bare whisper.

“I gave him to Pluton,” Seamus said, feeling numb. It was almost as if his consciousness had left his body, that someone else was saying the words even though he knew they came from his lips.

Her brows knit. “What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t kill him outright when I faced him. I struck a deal,” Seamus said. “I struck a deal with Pluton. Orcus in exchange for leaving my isles alone.”

“I don’t understand.” Leinth caught his face between her hands again. Her palms were warm, rough, and Seamus squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden sting of tears. “Seamus, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I didn’t kill him, but I thought Pluton probably had,” Seamus said, his voice hoarse. “I’m saying that if he’s alive, he has more reason to kill me than he has anyone else. He’ll come to take you, but he’ll come to kill me. Our score is far from settled, I think.”

“Then he’s not dead,” Leinth said faintly. “But with Pluton’s death, somehow he’s been freed.”

Seamus nodded. Leinth’s fingertips dug into the flesh of his cheeks.

“Seamus, look at me,” she said, her voice a whisper. “Look at me.”

He forced his eyes open, sure he would see rage and censure in her eyes. Instead, there was neither.

“Seamus, if he’s escaped whatever captivity that Pluton had him trapped in, then perhaps Persphone’s managed to do the same.”

“Persephone,” Seamus echoed, his brow furrowing. “What has she—?”

“Maybe nothing,” Leinth said. “But maybe everything. She asked for our help, Seamus. Maybe she’s free—maybe she’s out there and lost and maybe this was the clue we needed.”

“She might not be.” Seamus swallowed hard. “We don’t know that. We don’t know anything for sure.”

“No, we don’t,” Leinth agreed. “But it’s something and right now, something’s all we’ve got.”

[This post is from Seamus’s point of view.]

Seamus took a slow, deep breath, reveling in the scent of Leinth’s hair for a moment longer than he likely should have allowed, then squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds before starting to rummage around in the drawer for a clean shirt. Leinth stayed with him, arms still around him, holding him up.

“Who were you promised to?” he asked in a whisper as he pulled a clean shirt from the drawer, trying to straighten enough to tug it on. “Before, all those years ago? Who did your father promise you to?”

His shirt eclipsed his view of her for a second and when he looked again, she was staring with something close to horror in her eyes. His brows knit.

“Why are you asking me that?” Leinth asked in a weak voice.

“I—” Seamus stopped, swallowed, then started again. “Because whoever it was, I think I did something to him to make sure he couldn’t harm you or come for you. It was after I was with the Hunt.”

She stared at him for a few seconds, biting down hard on her lower lip. “Even in the midst of all of that, you tried to protect me.”

“What else would I do?” he asked, his voice a murmur. “I loved you then and I love you now. How could I not make sure that you were safe even though I was gone?”

Leinth took his face gently between her hands, kissing him tenderly. “Seamus.”

He sighed and shook his head. “I just can’t remember who it was. I remember facing him, I remember beating him, but I don’t remember who he was.”

“Orcus,” she whispered. “It was Orcus. My father matched us when I was still just a baby. I think he forgot about it, honestly, and I really didn’t know—but Orcus remembered, and then you happened and I—”

She buried her face against his shoulder, arms wrapping around his waist again. She didn’t cry, just clung to him, voice coming muffled. “He’s supposed to be long dead and gone. Isn’t he?”

Seamus didn’t answer.

[This post is from Seamus’s point of view.]

“Do you know who it is?”

Seamus blinked at Leinth as she turned away from their chest of drawers, a shirt balled up between her hands, clutched against her chest. “What?”

“Do you know who’s out there? Who’s coming?” Leinth bit down hard on her lower lip, eyes gleaming in the dim of their room. There was fear in her eyes, enormous, real. His heart seized for a moment and he swallowed hard, slowly forcing himself upright.

“I think so,” he admitted, standing on shaky legs. “I just can’t—I just can’t grasp it. It’s just beyond my fingertips in the jumble.”

“Jumble?” She set down the shirt and came to him, hands reaching to cradle his face. “What do you mean?”

He leaned his head forward, resting his forehead against hers as his eyes slid shut for a moment. “I was dreaming before you woke me, that’s all. Everything’s jumbled up with what I was dreaming about. It’s okay. I’ll sort it out.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded, exhaling. “I’m sure. Just let me get dressed.” Seamus started to move away from her, stumbling toward the dresser. Leinth cursed in a whisper and moved to help him.

“This is a bad idea,” she murmured as she wrapped an arm around his waist to support him. “I shouldn’t be dragging you out there.”

“No,” he said. “No, you should be. This is about us, not them. We have to face it—at least alongside them if not alone.”

“I’m scared, Seamus,” she said, reaching to open the drawer for him as he leaned to brace himself with his good arm against the top of the dresser. “I’ve never been scared like this before.”

“It’s all right,” he said, turning to press a kiss to her temple. “We’ll be okay. We haven’t spent this long apart just to be separated now.”

“I love you,” she said, wrapping both arms around him and squeezing, maybe a little too tightly. He wrapped his injured arm around her anyway and held her.

“And I, you,” he whispered into her hair. “And I, you.”