[This post is from J.T.’s point of view.]
“I’ve heard your name,” he said. “I’ve heard stories. His reluctant queen, the stolen girl, the mercy in Hades.”
I was all of those things—all of them and more. She held his gaze. I want to help you, but I need your help as well. Not in return, but I need it nonetheless.
His stomach dropped, mouth suddenly sour. “My help.”
I would not ask if my continued plight would not mean danger to you and yours, know this to be true. I swear that it’s true. I need your help for your own safety as well as mine.
J.T. hadn’t thought his stomach could feel more hollow, but all of a sudden it did. He cleared his throat, trying to steady himself. It felt like the blows just kept on coming. His fingers curled into fists against his knees.
“Tell me,” he said, his voice hoarse.
Relief washed across Persephone’s face and she dropped to her knees in front of him, slumping to sit on the grass, near enough to touch. He almost reached out but somehow managed to restrain himself.
He wasn’t sure what he would do if he was actually able to touch her.
I am their prisoner still.
“Whose?” He feared he already knew the answer, but needed her to confirm it. He wasn’t sure what he would do once he got the confirmation.
That’s not true. You know exactly what you’ll do once you get the confirmation. You’re just worried about everything that’s going to come after it.
Well, he had reason to be worried, didn’t he?
If she gave him the answer he suspected she would, it would mean marching to war—a war he wasn’t sure that they were equipped to fight, let alone win.
That’s assuming the others agree to help.
Persephone held his gaze for a long moment before looking down. You already know, her voice whispered.
“I do,” he murmured. “Olympium.”
Olympium, she echoed.
J.T. closed his eyes, shoulders slumping.
Now what am I going to do?
