The next morning, two divine guards walked me into the side hall of the Council.

I was wrapped in bandages, the burns still bleeding through, and I limped.

The door opened, and Seraphina walked in.

She waved the attendants out, and the moment the door shut, the look of holy compassion peeled away from her face, layer by layer.

She stood in front of the chair I was sitting in and looked down at me. There was a small, pleased curve at the corner of her mouth, pure amusement.

“You didn’t actually believe Nia had a curse, did you?” she said, easy, unhurried.

I stared at her, and something dropped inside my chest.

The Fates’ prophecy. The curse. Had she fabricated all of it?

She watched the hate rise in my eyes, and her smile widened. “There it is. And just so you know, while you were rotting in Tartarus, your precious daughter was suffering right alongside you.”

She lifted one finger and tapped my forehead. “While the mist was taking you apart, Nia was on her knees at my feet. Bowing. Crying for her mama between every bow. It was unbearable to look at.”

“I got tired of the noise eventually.” She straightened, smoothing her sleeve, her voice flat and conversational. “So I turned the fire up. Better to be done with her quickly.”

“But don’t worry. Caelum has no idea. Even if you ripped out your own heart and showed it to him, he would only think you’d lost your mind. Who believes a filthy mortal?”

She tilted her head. “Elara. You should never have set your sights so high. The King of the Gods? Really?”

I couldn’t even hear her past the first words. All I could see was Nia, on her knees in front of this woman, bowing, crying for me.

I threw myself at her. I gathered every drop of the half-divine blood Caelum had once poured into me and put all of it into the strike.

Seraphina didn’t have time to react. The blow landed, and she actually staggered back and coughed up a mouthful of blood.

The hall doors slammed open. Caelum charged in and caught her against his chest.

I laughed, low. “What kind of goddess can be hurt by a mortal?”

Seraphina’s face went black.

Caelum swept his hand, and I was thrown into the wall. The back of my skull cracked against stone, and my vision went out for a moment.

“Elara. When did you turn this cruel? I gave you my blood for this?”

I spat out the blood in my mouth and pulled the echo conch from my pocket. I’d had it ready.

The conch can record anything spoken within ten feet.

I played back every word Seraphina had just said.

“You didn’t actually believe Nia had a curse, did you?”

“I got tired of the noise eventually… so I turned the fire up.”

Seraphina’s face went white.

Caelum snatched the conch out of the air.

I thought he would listen.

He didn’t. He crushed it in his fist.

“How many fake proofs are you going to invent in Nia’s name?” His face was a thundercloud.

I looked up at him, and suddenly all of this was funny.

I pushed myself up from the floor and lifted my head to meet his eyes.

“Caelum. If there’s a next life, I only pray Nia never has a father like you.”

His pupils contracted.

His mouth opened, but he didn’t get a chance to speak.

Behind him, Seraphina spoke softly. “Don’t waste your breath. She’s completely lost her mind. Send her back to Tartarus. At least there she can’t hurt anyone.”

She leaned against his shoulder, her voice soft with sorrow, as if she pitied me.

Caelum looked at Seraphina, then at me.

He called for the guards. “Drag her back to Tartarus. This time use lightning. She comes out when she confesses, and not before.”

The guards took me by both arms and dragged me toward the door.

Outside there was a massive crack of sound, an explosion, and a figure stood in the doorway, wrapped in gold lightning.

The Caelum from five years ago walked in carrying Nia’s urn.

His face was murder. His gaze raked across Seraphina, across the guards, and locked on the face of his older self.

“Stop.”