Chapter 2 Goodbye, Son Of Apollo

• Orion arrived before sunset, bringing the warmth of summer into my cold room.
• Three years had sharpened him. His golden hair was shorter, his shoulders broader beneath a white cloak fastened with Apollo's sun. Once, the sight of him would have made every careful thought leave my head.
• Now I noticed only that his fingers were linked with Melantha's.
• Paean, an older priest of Apollo, followed them with a box of healing herbs. He bowed to me, then looked away too quickly. Guilt made poor eye contact.
• "You are truly awake." Orion stopped beside the bed. Wonder softened his face, but irritation lived beneath it, as though my miracle had interrupted a plan. "How do you feel?"
• "Clearer than I have in years."
• Melantha squeezed his hand. He did not let go.
• "Callista, we should speak honestly," he said. "I honored our promise. I paid your healers. I sat beside you until even Athena told me you might never wake."
• "How heroic."
• His jaw tightened. "Melantha was there when I had no one. I love her now. But I will still marry you. I owe you that much."
• In my old life, those words had destroyed me. I had heard duty and tried to turn it back into love. This time, I heard the insult clearly.
• "No," I said.
• Orion blinked. "No?"
• I held out my hand to Melantha. "The pendant."
• Her eyes went bright with alarm, but she obeyed under Orion's stare. The silver owl lay cool in my palm. He had given it to me on my sixteenth birthday and sworn that only his future wife would wear it.
• I closed Melantha's fingers around it again.
• "It suits your dress," I said. "And his promise suits you just as well. You may have both."
• Paean made a strangled sound. Orion's face flushed. "Do not play games with me."
• "I am ending our betrothal."
• Sunlight flared around him, bright enough to sting my eyes. "You took a knife for me. Our names have been joined since childhood. Everyone knows you have wanted this marriage for years."
• "I wanted you. Past tense."
• Melantha placed one protective hand over her stomach. The movement was too neat, too practiced.
• "Please don't fight because of me," she whispered. "Especially now. The baby feels everything I feel."
• The room tilted even though I knew what was coming.
• Orion pulled her against his side. Pride and challenge mixed in his expression. "Melantha carries my child. Nothing you say will change that."
• Paean dropped the box of herbs.
• He knelt to gather the leaves, hands unsteady. When our eyes met, he mouthed, Forgive me. I did not know whether he meant the child I had lost, the years I had slept, or some truth still hidden. Before I could question him, Orion moved between us, as if even my conversation required his permission.
• The lid cracked. A bitter smell spilled across the floor, familiar enough to catch at an old memory: Paean standing over me after I lost my unborn child in an avalanche, telling me the Fates could be cruel.
• Orion must have seen my face. His anger cooled into pity, which hurt worse.
• "I am sorry about the baby we lost," he said. "But Melantha is stronger. She will protect this one."
• My grief became a clean white flame.
• I had dragged him and Melantha from the snow while bleeding. I had given our child for both their lives. He had found a way to make the loss my failure.
• I pulled the sun ring from my finger. "Then protect your new family. You are no longer part of mine."
• I dropped the ring into his cup of water. It struck the bottom with a bright little note.
• Orion stared. "You will regret that when your temper passes."
• "My temper passed while I was dead."
• His eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"
• Before I could answer, the bronze mirror on my table filled with black mist.
• Lysander's voice came through it. "She said leave. Even Apollo's son should understand a simple word."
• Orion wheeled toward the mirror. "Erebos."
• "Phoebus. Still holding a woman who is not your promised bride, I see."
• The air crackled between sun and shadow. Melantha watched the mirror with open fascination. In my previous life she had pursued Lysander after Orion died. Even now, while announcing another man's child, she could not hide her hunger for a more powerful prize.
• I almost laughed. Some people did not love men. They loved winning them.
• Orion stepped toward me. "Why is the prince of the dead calling your room?"
• "Because I called him first."
• His disbelief pleased me more than it should have.
• The mirror darkened, then showed Lysander standing before an arch of black stone. He wore no crown, only a charcoal tunic and a sword at his hip. His black hair had fallen over his brow, and his gray eyes fixed on me as though the others did not exist.
• "I will reach Athena's house by midnight," he said. "Do you need me sooner?"
• The tenderness in his question cracked something inside me. Not a command. Not a debt. A choice.
• "Midnight is fine."
• "No," Orion snapped. "It is not."
• Lysander finally looked at him. "You had three years. Do not complain because I need three hours."
• Paean coughed to hide a laugh. Orion turned on him, and the old priest suddenly became fascinated by the broken herb box.
• Melantha's nails dug into Orion's sleeve. "Callista is confused. She has been asleep for so long. Surely she cannot promise herself to someone else today."
• "I can," I said. "Watch me."
• I faced the mirror. "Lysander, when you arrive, bring a witness. I intend to accept your courtship before all Olympus."
• His slow smile was beautiful and a little wicked.
• "I will bring Hermes," he promised. "He loves delivering news that ruins someone else's evening."
• The mirror cleared.
• Orion seized the bedpost hard enough to scorch it. "You are doing this to punish me."
• I met the eyes of the boy I had once loved enough to die for.
• "No, Orion. Punishment would require me to care what you feel. This is goodbye."