Page 38 of Until the End of Ever (To the Cruel Gods #2)

KLEOS

I glared across the table. “I walk like a penguin.”

Instead of seeming even a little bit abashed, Lucian looked smug. “I’d offer you a pain potion, but you’re the miraculous healer,” he reminded me. “Shouldn’t you offer me one? I may have pulled a muscle.”

“You didn’t,” I grunted.

In truth, I could have easily healed the vague ache at my core. My magic worked better on other people than it did on me, but a little numbing spell wasn’t a challenge. Instead, I wanted to feel it. Bask in it. But Lucian was far too impressed with himself, so I wasn’t going to tell him that.

My phone rang again. Mother. I knew I was going to have to answer sooner or later.

I’d accepted Cassiopeia’s offer last weekend, and after stopping by for a signature, she’d immediately filed the paperwork on Tuesday.

I was certain that sort of admin usually took ages, but her surname was Regis, so I received the confirmation earlier today.

With that out of the way, I could handle Mother.

The thing was, I really didn’t want to.

I received my own mail at the manor, as I’d requested, but Mother would also be notified. I couldn’t avoid her forever. I just had other problems today.

“Any news from Silver?” Lucian checked.

Demetria finally got back to her last night. Four days was pretty fast for her foster parents. “Not since yesterday. Tria said she’s on her way. Could be a week, could be a month.” I shrugged.

“So we’re still on for tonight,” he concluded, clearly still stressed about the ritual we had to perform.

He wasn’t the only one. I’d dealt with the old man who saved me once and a single look at one of his books obliterated me . I could say, after meeting Apollo, I had a healthy dose of fear associated with any Olympian god.

“There’s something I wanted to talk about,” he said slowly. “In case it was on your mind, too. I don’t want you to be afraid.”

I swallowed. I’d hoped no one else came to the same conclusion I did, but of course, Lucian had. “The prophecy.”

He inclined his head. “Five beyond death,” he quoted.

“That’s not exactly good,” I admitted, biting my lip.

“There are six of us tonight. Four elemental anchors, me, the caster, and you, the subject. It doesn’t compute. And don’t forget, the start of the prophecy is two by sea. Last I checked, none of us have gone on a cruise.”

I’d told myself exactly the same thing, but coming from him, it was a hell of a lot more reassuring.

“Right. It’s fine. Nothing to do with any prophecy. None of us are going to end up even a little bit dead, let alone beyond death.”

I wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince me or himself.

“Besides, I’ve been beyond death. It’s not that scary. The underworld’s not nearly as bad as a London subway at rush hour.”

I gasped. “Wait, what if that’s what they meant by beyond death? Like, the underworld. Wouldn’t that suggest Hades to you?”

“Sure. But then we have the sea bit, and also, the one who judges all.”

I groaned, in agreement. “Prophecies are rarely understood preemptively.”

“Except Orestes. The oracle just told him, go murder your mom.”

I cracked a grin. “Why couldn’t I get one of those prophecies?”

I was, naturally, only joking, but Lucian’s eyes were void of humor when he held my gaze.

“Would you?” he asked. “Murder your mother. If you needed to.”

I gave it serious thought, really considering the question. I wasn’t one for violence or murder. But if I needed to? If it was supposed to save someone I cared about, or myself? I was ashamed to admit that the answer was a resounding yes. In fact, I’d hesitate to kill his mother more than mine.

“Depends on what she would have done. Murder is a reasonable solution to some predicaments.”

“And that, Kleos Valesco, is why I’m keeping you.”

I flushed as he pressed his lips to my forehead.

Keeping me.

Would he? For how long? He kept dodging any talk of permanence, any mention of deals , when he’d been more than happy to make one with that Briar girl.

“What’s for dinner?” Cassius asked, strolling into the kitchen.

“You know, you could cook some time,” Lucian chastised him, without much heat.

“Any day. Would you like turtle soup or akratisma?”

“Never mind,” Lucian grumbled.

“Akratisma?” I repeated.

“Criminally dry barley bread, dipped in wine.” Lucian wrinkled his nose. “With olives, and if he’s feeling particularly mean, unripe figs. And I made ragù, Cassius. We have guests tonight.”

“Excellent!” he sat at one head of the table. “Is that Lucky girl coming with libations, by any chance?”

And here I thought his vocabulary was modern.

“Likely. We also have a couple of valers. Kleos’s cousin and her best friend.”

Gray eyes found mine. “Any friend of Kleos is welcome in our home. Will I need to restrain myself from murdering anyone?”

“The short one, possibly. But she’s hard to kill. Feel free to give it a go.”

I shook my head. “Hey! We’re not attempting to murder my best friend.” To Cassius, I said, “I’ll make sure she’s on her best behavior.” After a second, I tilted my head. “I have to wonder if you had a similar conversation about me.”

“No?” Cassius lied—poorly.

“Absolutely,” Lucian replied at the same time.

The house alerted us of our guests’ arrival, and given that Lucian was still adding herbs in the deliciously fragrant sauce simmering in the cast iron pan, I offered to open the door.

Cassius frowned, standing. “Not by yourself.”

I hesitated. If it was Silver and Gideon, rather than Ronan and Lucky, I wasn’t sure how they’d react to him without warning.

But then again, I’d been open to both about eating dinner with the patriarch several times. They’d behave.

Hopefully?