Page 12 of Queen to the Sunless Court (Brides of Myth #2)

Unanswered

Calliste

They found the ruler of the Underworld in a vast, lustrous black corridor, standing before a female bust carved from ebony and adorned with an intricate golden necklace. An endless array of them stood on snowy marble pedestals along both sides of the corridor, each decorated with jewelry.

“Amatheia Amyntasides,” Hades repeated, his thick brows furrowing as he looked to Morpheus for confirmation.

“This is the name I found in Calliste’s memory of that moment,” Morpheus replied.

“King Theron’s late wife.” Calliste clasped her hands to steady them. “She died seven summers ago during childbirth. This is why I’m saying it’s impossible.”

Hades turned his attention to the statue before him, repositioning the necklace and angling his head as he examined it. “It’s certainly surprising, but not impossible. You weren’t the only one who heard the name, correct? Morpheus was there with you.”

“Yes,” she admitted, wishing she could deny it. But she couldn’t have misunderstood or misinterpreted the name, not with Morpheus there.

It was what it was.

Amatheia Amyntasides.

She refused to contemplate the questions it raised.

For distraction, she examined the bust in front of Hades: a likeness of a fiercely regal woman, styled in an elegant updo held in place by combs adorned with pearls and crowned with an ornate tiara.

Then she noticed that every bust in the corridor depicted the same woman, but in a different pose—head tilted, looking down or to the side, some smiling, some serious.

Every necklace on display was unique, each one a breathtaking work of art.

“Amatheia Amyntasides,” Hades mused aloud, clearly familiar with the name.

“She married into the royal Amyntasides line, becoming queen, but reigned for only a year before the Fates summoned her here. In which case I should have been present for her trial in the Underworld. Unless there was an oversight, I don’t recall her, and my memory extends far beyond seven human years. ”

Calliste gave him a puzzled look. “I don’t understand…”

Morpheus moved next to her. “The Shades arriving in the Underworld must enter the Everlasting Enclave to find their tree, where they stay to reflect on their life and gather the orb of light, which holds the record of their actions in the mortal realm. This marks the first stage of their journey.”

“Exactly.” Hades crossed his arms. “Then they board Charon’s ferry to reach my court, where they face my judges—or me.

Any royalty would require my presence at the trial, so I would have been there for a deceased queen.

Since I don’t recall seeing her, it means she never reached my court.

The question is: why? And why is she in the Roots instead? ”

Calliste pieced everything together, reeling from the image that formed in her mind. “Are you saying she never crossed Styx?”

“Correct.”

She phrased her next question carefully. “But... if she’s royalty, how could no one notice she never arrived at your palace?”

“Because we don’t restrict the time Shades spend in the Enclave.” Hades replied. “They can stay as long as they like. You’ve visited the Enclave, so you know how enchanting it can be.”

It was hard to deny it.

“Also,” he added, “if she had been missing for a century, I might have questioned it. But seven mortal summers mean nothing to me.” He returned to adjusting the necklace on the bust.

A simple question that surfaced from nowhere stole her breath. “Could this be why Prince Kalias’ tree vanished from the Enclave and collapsed into the Roots? Because she… she’s his mother and… and she somehow drew it to her?”

Both Hades and Morpheus glanced at her, their brows raised, and for a moment she thought she’d said something stupid.

But then Morpheus exhaled with a glint of appreciation in his eyes. “Clever. I hadn’t thought about it.”

“Yes. It’s possible.” Hades still tinkered with the necklace.

“Family trees are initially interconnected by roots, with the mother’s bond usually stronger than the father’s, especially when the child is young.

This connection fades as the child grows older.

Prince Kalias is seven, correct?” He sighed as he shifted the necklace on the bust. “However, only an immortal could draw his tree into the Roots. A Condemned would not have enough power.”

“I’ve given it some thought since I saw Calliste’s memories of that fight,” Morpheus said. “It might sound absurd, though.”

Hades narrowed his eyes at him. “Go on. I’m short on ideas, even the most outrageous ones.”

“I think… I believe that Tempest, whatever her real name, is playing a game with us—just like she told Calliste. She must have slipped into our realm sometime after the queen died and taken over her Shade to conceal her divine presence and travel to the Roots, where we don’t normally venture.

Then she started summoning the prince’s tree there.

She likely took her time with it, so she didn’t attract any attention to herself until the tree fully fell into the Roots. ”

Calliste glanced up at Morpheus, startled. It seemed logical and terrifying at the same time.

“Hmmm.” Hades’ hands paused, no longer fiddling with the necklace as he straightened up, his eyes on Morpheus now. “Continue.”

“But Tempest didn’t foresee Calliste confronting her using a similar trick: a mortal aided by a divine.

When Tempest couldn’t defeat Calliste with her Shades or tricks, she tried to scare her with that warning about being a mortal caught in our games.

” Morpheus’ eyes were unseeing as he continued his train of thought.

“Which is the actual clue to her presence here.” He paused.

“Tempest also failed to predict Epione’s intervention when she tried to kill Calliste, which was why she was unprepared for it and was forced out of the queen’s Shade. ”

Hades’ frown deepened. “I hate that it makes sense. Continue.”

“The key here is that the queen identified herself, and since she’s asked for help, she’s likely Tempest’s prisoner and a tool Tempest uses.

” Morpheus paused, pressing a finger to his lips in thought.

“Tempest knows that by keeping Prince Kalias asleep, she disrupts the work of the Fates. Which is exactly her game.”

Hades nodded, already straightening a segment of the necklace on the bust’s collarbone, as if he couldn’t stop himself.

His casual preoccupation with the jewelry jarred on her. Her head throbbed, not just from the lingering side-effects of Hypnos’ spell. The real reason was personal, and she wasn’t ready to confront it yet. “This necklace is stunning,” she said in a hollow tone. “Is something wrong with it?”

The ruler of the Underworld shot her a careful look. “It’s not as perfect as I’d hoped.”

“I can’t see any flaws.” Even a polite tone was an effort. “Whoever crafted it did a marvelous job and I’m sure any woman would be thrilled to own it.”

Hades released the necklace. “Why are you upset, Calliste?”

She faltered, but there was no denying that she seethed, and for a number of reasons. “This whole situation frightens me… It might not mean much to you, but to me—”

“Wrong,” Hades said, his voice dark and steely. “I do care about it, just not emotionally. But you do. Why?”

“Well, Tempest is the reason I’m here, so I must find out who she is and how to defeat her, and I don’t even know where to start.” Even to her own ears, her words rang false as they trailed off into silence.

“That’s only a part of the reason,” Hades said after a long pause. “The rest is something else, is it not?”

She pressed her lips into a firm line. I don’t want to talk about it.

“I’m a judge of souls, Calliste, because I can see through mortals.

Learning the name of this Condemned has unsettled you, and I don’t understand why you’re ashamed to admit the reason, if only to yourself.

” He towered over her, surrounded by opulence, clad in darkness, his narrowed eyes penetrating.

That scrutiny lessened for a moment when he brushed his finger against the bust’s onyx cheek, a distant warmth lighting up the depths of his eyes. “There is no shame in love.”

She hid her face in her hands. He’d already guessed everything—because he’d seen her argument with Hypnos about Theron. Her hands dropped by her sides and she fixed her stare on the black marble floor. “There’s no shame in love, I agree. But it makes me weak.”

“Does it?” He seemed amused. “I beg to differ.”

“You may be wrong.”

“I’m usually unapologetically right about most things. But for the sake of argument, tell me what I’m mistaken about.”

“The queen is alive, in a way that might be hard for her to understand, but she knows her name.” Her voice wavered.

“Theron—I mean, the king—grieved for her. He still does, from what I've seen. How can I face him now, knowing what I do?” The thought she had been avoiding hit her like an icy missile. “How can I expect anything from him right now?” Her throat tightened, but she met Hades’ gaze without flinching.

“How could the Fates be so cruel in making us cross paths and allowing us to believe in what we shouldn’t?

For what—anguish and heartbreak?” Her throat thickened even more as she finished. “That’s why I say it’s a weakness.”

“So, you’re angry that the king’s wife is alive—as a Condemned—because you think it will compromise his feelings for you.” He summed it up in the detached tone of a scribe tallying taxes.

Acerbic heat seethed in her chest. Truly, nothing to be upset about. She held back tears and didn’t answer.

“Would you rather there was no affection in the first place, Calliste? That you met, but never fell for one another?”

Her breath escaped in an unhappy sigh as she contemplated the question, which didn't need much thought. “No. But I never said it was easy to understand.”

“I disagree again. It’s straightforward to me, Calliste. What you need is to make a choice, which you haven’t. Hence you’re conflicted. You no longer walk a straightforward path, but you are at the crossroads. Pick your way. To decide is always to let go of one possibility.”

“What if deciding is impossible right now?”

His gaze was no longer so piercing. “It only means you need more time. And when the right moment comes, it will be the easiest decision in your life, as absurd as it might sound.”

Her eyes still stung. Her own honesty had come at a great cost—and it had only earned her a cryptic prediction. But what else could I expect from the god whose realm houses the Fates?

In the long silence that followed, she could hear Morpheus breathing beside her while Hades still towered in front of her, his gaze locked on her pendant.

“Judging by your emerald, you’ve recovered faster than expected,” Hades finally said. “And since we know the name of the Condemned, sending you to the Roots right now is pointless. We have the information we need… even though it raises new questions.”

She chewed on her lip as she pushed away her anguish, forcing herself to think without emotion—just like him.

“I’d like to know how it’s possible that the queen never crossed Styx and degenerated into a Condemned.

Hypnos explained to me that Shades turn into the Condemned when their bodies remain unburied, or their families fail to place a coin for Charon in their mouths.

She was given a proper burial, so we’re left with the missing coin, but it’s unlikely the king would neglect something so important.

” But then she recalled Theron’s stance on the gods of the Underworld. Or would he?

Hades stepped back, his gaze now icy enough to penetrate her bones. “This is precisely the question I have. And the only person who can answer it is your king.”

Chill crept up her spine as she intuited Hades’ next words, fearing them. And he uttered them in a tone that brooked no argument.

“Morpheus will take you back to your realm. Once you’re there, you’ll inform King Theron about everything that has occurred here. Everything. ” His gaze locked on her, stony and non-negotiable. “I want him to have a good grasp on the situation before he arrives.”

“Arrives… where?” She thought she’d misunderstood. “ Here ?”

“Yes. With you. When you extend my invitation to visit my court.”