The Shadow Prince

I’d known it all along. Pushed way back in my mind so I wouldn’t have to think about it. But opening up to her like that—letting her see one of the rawest portions of my soul—and her not rejecting it, I cannot deny reality any longer. The truth is, if Daphne eventually agrees to come with me, if I am victorious in my quest, if I get everything I’ve ever wanted—whether she’s a regular Boon or this Cypher who the Oracle spoke of—she will die.

Just like my mother.

Just like every human who has been brought to the Underrealm—most barely making it through the first two years. Humans cannot survive without the sun.

They all die.

And so will she.

Chapter forty

DAPHNE

It’s nearly midnight, but the restaurant Joe takes me to in LA is packed. Despite the cold wind and the spattering of rain, there’s a line wrapping around the side of the building. Joe leads me past the waiting crowd to the front doors. People scream his name and he stops to sign a couple of autographs. Flashbulbs go off, and reporters shoot questions at him.

“Who’s your companion?” one of them yells.

Joe wraps his arm around me. “This is my daughter!”

The camera flashes go wild. He grabs me by the hand, and the doorman lets us in without making us wait.

“Sorry about that,” Joe says to me. “You’ll get used to them. Eventually.”

We follow a hostess through the crowded restaurant, passing people I recognize from the gossip magazines. Joe hasn’t let go of my hand yet. He waves at his friends, exchanges cheek kisses, and merrily introduces me as his daughter to everyone we see.

Most respond quite diplomatically, but I can hear the tones of utter shock coming off them.

We finally find ourselves at a window booth in the back of the restaurant. It’s quieter here, but the energy of the place still buzzes around us.

The hostess puts two menus in front of us and then offers Joe the wine and beer list. He waves it away. “Chocolate milk shake. With sprinkles.” He raises his eyebrows at me.

“Make that two,” I say.

A waitress comes and takes the rest of our order. I get a Kobe beef and applewood smoked bacon cheeseburger and onion rings that cost twice as much as the fanciest steak at Ellis Grill. Joe seems to request half the menu. It’s his drummer’s restaurant, so I am assuming that running up a huge tab on opening night is the polite thing to do.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get much time with the telescope,” he says.

“It’s okay. Neither of us can control the elements,” I say, watching the rain patter against the window.

“What made you change your mind?” Joe looks a bit sheepish. “About coming tonight. I mean, I’m happy about it. You just surprised me is all.”

“Just something a friend said to me.” I shrug like it’s no big deal. “And I like the stars.”

“Me, too,” he says. “Do you remember what my favorite constellation is?”

I do. I remember him telling me once when I was a kid. But I don’t want to admit that I’ve held on to that bit of information for this long. I shake my head.

“Lyra. It’s supposed to be Orpheus’s lyre. His father gave it to him when he was a boy. They say Orpheus was so talented, he could control the elements with his music. Animals, trees, rocks, rivers, monsters—even gods were not impervious to it. He used it as a weapon against Hades.”

“A weapon?” I ask. Ms. Leeds had said that we would eventually discuss the Orpheus myth, but we’ve been mired in Homer’s Odyssey for weeks.

“So to speak. Orpheus had one great love, his wife, Eurydice. She was bitten by a snake and died, but Orpheus was undaunted. Armed only with his lyre, he traveled to the underworld and tried to get her back. He used his music to convince the boatman to take him across the river Styx, and also used it to tame Cerberus, the three-headed dog that blocked his path. But his greatest feat was playing a song so melancholy and beautiful for the god and goddess of the underworld that even Hades himself could not deny Orpheus the opportunity to save his wife.”

“So he followed her into the dark?” I ask, thinking of Haden’s words from earlier today. “To save her?”

“Well, he tried, at least.”

“He failed?”

“Hades gave Eurydice to Orpheus and told him they would be allowed to escape under one condition—that Orpheus was not allowed to look back at his wife until they had exited the underworld. He led her out, using his voice to guide her, but just when they made it to the exit, Orpheus looked back and Eurydice was lost to him forever.”

“But why did he look back? They were so close.”

“I don’t know, really. Some say it’s because he thought they’d already reached safety. Others say it’s because she cried out because something was wrong. Or perhaps he’d lost faith that she was still there. Most storytellers agree that it was Hades’s punishment—that he knew Orpheus would fail.”

“Punishment? But he’s the one who said they could go.”

“To the ancient Greeks, questioning the will of the gods—let alone acting out against it—was the ultimate sin. Orpheus’s sheer audacity in thinking he could reverse his fate—get his wife back from the clutches of the god of death—was considered wrong. It’s a morality tale. You fight destiny, and it’ll come back to bite you in the arse every time.” Beyond the noise of the restaurant and the chattering patrons at the tables that surround us, I catch the most melancholy tone wafting up from Joe. “You can’t fight your destiny. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

I am about to ask him if he really believes in all this fate stuff or if he’s just being melodramatic for the sake of the story, but three servers appear with tray after tray of food. One of the servers asks for a picture of Joe. He poses with her and then digs into a plate of cheese fries like a man who hasn’t eaten in days. I bite into my bacon cheeseburger. I’d be lying if I didn’t say it is the best thing I’ve ever tasted—even better than the burgers we’d grill up behind the shop on Sunday afternoons. But I’d never tell my mom or Jonathan that.

“What happened to Orpheus after that?”

“Some say he died of a broken heart; others say he was torn apart by a group of crazed women because he was too sad to pay attention to them.…”