The Goddess Legacy
Page 98
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“I wish to fade.”
The words he’d practiced for so long in his head slipped out as if they were nothing. And given the council’s silence, for a long moment he wondered if perhaps he really hadn’t said anything at all.
“Fade?” said Walter, as if he were speaking in tongues.
“Yes, fade,” said Henry with utmost patience. He’d expected this. “I understand my role in this world is great, but I cannot bear to face eternity any longer. We have all lived countless lifetimes, and I wish to end mine now.”
“But—why?” said a small voice beside him, and Henry looked down at Demeter—Diana. They hadn’t spoken much since Persephone’s death, but their bond was still there, having grown even stronger in the everlasting fires of grief. If she did not understand, he had no hope of convincing the others, either.
He looked her straight in the eye. “I am alone. Up here, you all have each other, but I have no one. And despite my best efforts to be the king my subjects need me to be, I can no longer endure it on my own.”
“You can no longer endure what?” Calliope’s voice rang out, much steadier than his own. “You can no longer endure your rule without a queen? Or you can no longer endure your existence without a companion?”
There was a sly tone to her question, but Henry ignored it. If she was implying she could stay with him, either as his queen or his companion, he would not have it. Nothing had changed in the past four hundred years.
“Both,” he said simply. “As a king, the influx of new subjects is far too much for me to handle on my own. And as a man, I can no longer endure being alone.”
“But surely there must be another way,” said Diana, reaching for him. He allowed her to take his hand. “James knows the inner workings of the Underworld. Perhaps he could—”
“No.” Henry spoke as gently as he could, but he would not work side by side with James no matter what the stakes. “I have made my decision, and if you wish for James to take over my position after I am gone, then so be it. But I wish to step down from my throne now.”
“And we will not let you,” said Calliope.
“With all due respect, sister, you are not the head of this council,” said Henry, and despite the look of utter shock on her face at his dismissal, he looked to Walter for the final word. His brother may have been the epitome of pride, but if he loved Henry at all, he could not deny him this. It was his life; his eternity to spend as he wished. And he wished to step down and fade.
Walter said nothing for a long moment, his eyes locked on Henry’s. “Is this what you truly want? To abandon us? To succumb to cowardice over a few lonely centuries?”
“Over an eternity alone,” corrected Henry.
“Because you are not willing to go out and find a new queen.”
“Because I cannot.”
“Your unwillingness to move on does not mean the rest of us should be punished.”
“And your unwillingness to move on does not mean I should be punished, either,” said Henry. “Allow me to be clear—this is a courtesy. For now, I am willing to wait a century before I fade, in order to give the council time to train my replacement. If you will not give me your blessing, then I will step down immediately.”
Silence. Walter’s lips formed a thin line, and in the throne next to his, Calliope looked as if she were near tears. But what did they expect? He was not one of them. He never had been. He had already lived the happiest years of his existence, and his duties were simply no longer enough to keep him here.
Beside him, Diana rose, sandwiching his hand in hers. “Brother,” she said in a voice meant only for him. “I understand your pain. I carry it, too, and I wish for nothing more than to move beyond it. But fading is not the answer.”
“It is for me,” he said quietly.
“But there must be some solution. Something you would stay for.”
He closed his eyes, and an all-too-familiar face appeared in his mind. The same one that had haunted him for nearly a millennia. “You know the answer to that,” he whispered.
Her throat constricted. She did. Of course she did. “And what if I were to find you a new queen?”
A new queen. The idea was so preposterous that he nearly smiled. “I have no desire for a new queen, or a new companion. That part of my life is over.”
“Is it?” Something flashed across her face, a determination he knew all too well. “What if we agreed with you, brother? What if we allowed you to transition your realm to another for the next hundred years, under the assumption you will fade at the end of it—but in return, you allowed us to find you a new companion?”
His heart sank. Another game. “I would never be able to love her, not the way she would deserve.”
“How can you be so sure?” Before he had the chance to protest, Diana turned to the others. “I say we accept our brother’s choice and allow him one hundred years to get his affairs in order—with the condition that during this time, he also allow us to find him a new bride. Someone he can love, who loves him in return. Someone who can help him rule. Someone who will give him a reason for staying.”
A murmur rippled through the council, and Aphrodite—Ava was the first to nod her agreement. “I think it’s brilliant,” she said. “I bet between us, we could find someone who’d be perfect for you.”
Her enthusiasm was contagious, and soon enough the others had joined in, planning in low, excited voices. Their words were nothing but buzz to Henry as he watched his plans slowly slip away. They could say they would uphold his choices as much as they wanted, but eventually, as the decades passed, they would find a way to trap him here.
The words he’d practiced for so long in his head slipped out as if they were nothing. And given the council’s silence, for a long moment he wondered if perhaps he really hadn’t said anything at all.
“Fade?” said Walter, as if he were speaking in tongues.
“Yes, fade,” said Henry with utmost patience. He’d expected this. “I understand my role in this world is great, but I cannot bear to face eternity any longer. We have all lived countless lifetimes, and I wish to end mine now.”
“But—why?” said a small voice beside him, and Henry looked down at Demeter—Diana. They hadn’t spoken much since Persephone’s death, but their bond was still there, having grown even stronger in the everlasting fires of grief. If she did not understand, he had no hope of convincing the others, either.
He looked her straight in the eye. “I am alone. Up here, you all have each other, but I have no one. And despite my best efforts to be the king my subjects need me to be, I can no longer endure it on my own.”
“You can no longer endure what?” Calliope’s voice rang out, much steadier than his own. “You can no longer endure your rule without a queen? Or you can no longer endure your existence without a companion?”
There was a sly tone to her question, but Henry ignored it. If she was implying she could stay with him, either as his queen or his companion, he would not have it. Nothing had changed in the past four hundred years.
“Both,” he said simply. “As a king, the influx of new subjects is far too much for me to handle on my own. And as a man, I can no longer endure being alone.”
“But surely there must be another way,” said Diana, reaching for him. He allowed her to take his hand. “James knows the inner workings of the Underworld. Perhaps he could—”
“No.” Henry spoke as gently as he could, but he would not work side by side with James no matter what the stakes. “I have made my decision, and if you wish for James to take over my position after I am gone, then so be it. But I wish to step down from my throne now.”
“And we will not let you,” said Calliope.
“With all due respect, sister, you are not the head of this council,” said Henry, and despite the look of utter shock on her face at his dismissal, he looked to Walter for the final word. His brother may have been the epitome of pride, but if he loved Henry at all, he could not deny him this. It was his life; his eternity to spend as he wished. And he wished to step down and fade.
Walter said nothing for a long moment, his eyes locked on Henry’s. “Is this what you truly want? To abandon us? To succumb to cowardice over a few lonely centuries?”
“Over an eternity alone,” corrected Henry.
“Because you are not willing to go out and find a new queen.”
“Because I cannot.”
“Your unwillingness to move on does not mean the rest of us should be punished.”
“And your unwillingness to move on does not mean I should be punished, either,” said Henry. “Allow me to be clear—this is a courtesy. For now, I am willing to wait a century before I fade, in order to give the council time to train my replacement. If you will not give me your blessing, then I will step down immediately.”
Silence. Walter’s lips formed a thin line, and in the throne next to his, Calliope looked as if she were near tears. But what did they expect? He was not one of them. He never had been. He had already lived the happiest years of his existence, and his duties were simply no longer enough to keep him here.
Beside him, Diana rose, sandwiching his hand in hers. “Brother,” she said in a voice meant only for him. “I understand your pain. I carry it, too, and I wish for nothing more than to move beyond it. But fading is not the answer.”
“It is for me,” he said quietly.
“But there must be some solution. Something you would stay for.”
He closed his eyes, and an all-too-familiar face appeared in his mind. The same one that had haunted him for nearly a millennia. “You know the answer to that,” he whispered.
Her throat constricted. She did. Of course she did. “And what if I were to find you a new queen?”
A new queen. The idea was so preposterous that he nearly smiled. “I have no desire for a new queen, or a new companion. That part of my life is over.”
“Is it?” Something flashed across her face, a determination he knew all too well. “What if we agreed with you, brother? What if we allowed you to transition your realm to another for the next hundred years, under the assumption you will fade at the end of it—but in return, you allowed us to find you a new companion?”
His heart sank. Another game. “I would never be able to love her, not the way she would deserve.”
“How can you be so sure?” Before he had the chance to protest, Diana turned to the others. “I say we accept our brother’s choice and allow him one hundred years to get his affairs in order—with the condition that during this time, he also allow us to find him a new bride. Someone he can love, who loves him in return. Someone who can help him rule. Someone who will give him a reason for staying.”
A murmur rippled through the council, and Aphrodite—Ava was the first to nod her agreement. “I think it’s brilliant,” she said. “I bet between us, we could find someone who’d be perfect for you.”
Her enthusiasm was contagious, and soon enough the others had joined in, planning in low, excited voices. Their words were nothing but buzz to Henry as he watched his plans slowly slip away. They could say they would uphold his choices as much as they wanted, but eventually, as the decades passed, they would find a way to trap him here.
