“Wait,” I say, “you told me you could only go to the mortal realm twice a year, but you went after Samhain, to see my father—” “I did.” “But… isn’t that your two times?” “Yes.” A strange realisation dawns. My stomach murmurs with something between panic and gratefulness. “You spent your only other allotted day doing that for me?” “Well, what else was I going to do?” “Thank you.” Hades shakes it away. “It was nothing.” “It wasn’t nothing,” I insist, “and thank you.”
