[This post is from Marin’s point of view.]
A chill shot through me. “Why? I thought she was their prisoner.”
“It’s more complicated than that,” Matt murmured, closing his eyes and leaning against the forge’s doorframe. “You heard her talk about it, about what they did.”
I winced as Thom stiffened slightly. “When was this?” he asked.
“It’s been more than once,” I told him, my voice firm. “She’s my sister and I have every intention of treating her like my sister. Is that a problem?”
Some of the tension drained away and Thom looked down. “No,” he said, though there was an undercurrent of nerves and disagreement—and something else, something that might have been fear—that I was able to detect. From the looks on their faces, Matt, J.T., and Phelan had caught it, too. Thom shifted uncomfortably, as if suddenly feeling the weight of our gazes—and our judgement.
“She’s my wife, Thom,” Matt said softly. “She’s my wife and I love her and deciding to stay would be easier if everyone could put aside the past and the bullshit and let her at least try to start over here with us.”
Thordin reached over and squeezed Matt’s shoulder. He looked away, out toward the ravine.
“I don’t want to abandon you guys,” Matt murmured. “But for her sake, I will if I have to.”
There it was, the line in the sand. I looked up at Thom, who had an expression like he’d just been gut-punched.
“I—”
“Don’t say it if you won’t mean it, Thom.”
Thom shook his head. “I’m sorry, Matt. It’s just going to take some getting used to.”
“Work harder at it,” I told him, then shifted my attention back to Phelan. “You were saying?”
Phelan nodded slowly. “I was. Pluton had a strange trust of Hecate when it came to Persephone—at least, that’s what I was always led to believe. One usually escorted the other if he wasn’t anywhere to be found and I know I heard at least one tale of Hecate helping her escape, at least for a little while. I don’t know how much truth there was to that one, though.”
I glanced at Matt, biting my lip. “I’m not sure right now is the time to ask her about that.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, a thread of worry underlying his voice. “Is she okay?”
“That’s why I was coming for J.T.,” I admitted. “She said she is, but I think there’s more going on than she wanted to tell me. I just—it seemed like a good idea to have you take a look.”
J.T. took two slow, deep breaths before he nodded. “Okay. Okay. That I can do.”
He didn’t hesitate further, just started walking down the hill.
