“That’s intense.”

“Tell me about it. I don’t even know what I would have done otherwise.”

“You still haven’t gotten to the part where Daphne kisses you,” Dax says. “Get to the goods.”

As amazing as Daphne’s kiss had been, I can barely muster the words to tell Dax the rest of the story. He lets out a low whistle when I get to the part when Daphne saw my scars and ran away.

“I can see how that would complicate things. She probably thinks you’re a total nut job.”

“A what?” I shake my head, getting it. “Never mind.”

“So what are you going to do now?”

“What can I do?” Fate had brought this down on my head. Perhaps as punishment for my acts of disobedience? My hubris? “She’s never going to talk to me again.”

Dax starts to say something, but a dinging chime rings through the house. I stand up, searching for the origin of the noise.

“It’s the doorbell,” he says.

“Ignore it,” I say.

“I bet Garrick forgot his keys.”

“Let him sit in the cold for a bit.” I don’t want Garrick to be a part of this conversation. He’ll probably go squealing it all to Simon.

Dax sighs and heads for the front door. I sit back in the armchair and bury my head in my hands. I’d been a fool for ever thinking I could pull this off.

“Seems I was wrong,” Dax says, coming back into the family room. “And so were you. You have a visitor, Haden.”

I tug at my hair and look up at Dax … and find Daphne standing right next to him.

She crosses her long, tanned arms in front of her chest. “I want answers,” she says. “And I’m not leaving until I get the truth.”

Daphne has planted herself beside one of the armchairs and shows no signs of leaving anytime soon. I pull Dax aside.

“What am I supposed to tell her?”

“Try the truth.”

“I’m not supposed to do that until the Eve of the Return.”

“I’d say your ox is in the mire.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“It means that based on the dire circumstances, an exception is in order.”

“As in, I’m harpied if I do, and harpied if I don’t?”

“Exactly. Always best to go for the truth in these situations.”

I drag my hand through my hair and turn toward Daphne. She looks at me expectantly—but not in a good way.

I huff out a big sigh. “So … this is going to sound a bit addled.… But … you see …” I look at Dax, hoping he can help me find the right words. He just shrugs. Damned useful guide he turned out to be. “Here’s the thing. I’m not from around here, and I’m not from the East Coast, either. I’m from somewhere much farther away than that. I’m from—”

“The underworld,” Daphne says, finishing my admission for me.

“Ummm … what? How did you know?”

“It was kind of a stab in the dark, but thanks for confirming it.” She taps her fingers on her arms. “Still not sure I believe it, though.”

Dax makes a gurgling noise like he’s either choking or laughing. “I told you I liked this girl.”

Daphne looks at him, her eyes narrowed. “Do I know you?”

“This is Dax. He’s my cousin, sort of,” I say. “But you’ve probably seen him around school. He’s a guidance counselor. Mr. Drool.”

“Hey,” he says. “That’s Mr. Drol. Though I do see my mistake in name choice now.”

“No,” Daphne says, shaking her head. “I haven’t seen you at school. Have we met elsewhere?”

He shrugs.

“He’s supposed to be my guide. But you’re not helping all that much at the moment,” I add pointedly to him.

“Guide? As in, you’ve been here before?”

“Yes,” Dax says.

“Six years ago?” Her voice has an accusatory edge to it, and I realize the direction she’s headed with this line of questioning. Tobin’s sister. That isn’t a road Dax and I want to go down at the moment. Not if I want a chance at salvaging this situation.

I clear my throat, stopping Dax from responding. “We were talking about the underworld.…”

“Oh yes,” Daphne says. “So are you a god or something?”

I almost laugh. “No.”

“You’re not Hades, then?”

“No.”

“Who is Hades, then?” Her eyes flick to Dax. He shakes his head. “Does he exist?”

“He did.”

“Did?”

“He’s dead.”

“Gods can die?”

“If you take away their totem, yes. But we’re getting off topic.”

“Who are you, then?”

“I am Lord Haden, son of King Ren—the current ruler of the underworld. Champion chosen to fulfill a sacred quest.”

Daphne steeples her fingers. “And let me guess. That quest is to bring me back to the underworld so I can be your queen or something?”

Her expression is cool and calm, and I wonder if she’s really as unfazed about all these reality-rocking revelations as she seems. For the first time since she walked away from me this evening, I wonder if I still have a chance of pulling this quest off. Of convincing her to come with me. Maybe this is the way the Fates wanted it to be. I am not to be a failure, after all.

Hope rises in my chest. I can practically taste the nectar I will be served upon my victorious return. I can see the expression on my father’s face when he will be obliged to offer me the seat at his right hand instead of Rowan. All I have to do is make Daphne understand.

“Yes, in a way. I was chosen by the Oracle. I’ve been sent here to convince you to return with me. You are my Boon.”

Daphne scowls. “Your Boon? Like your prize?” A shakiness creaks into her voice, and I realize too late that she’s not as cool with all of this as she’s been pretending to be. “That’s disgusting. That’s beyond wrong.”

“You’re not just a prize,” I say, lifting my hands. “You’re not just any Boon. You’re the Cypher.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”