Hades could not help looking at the woman who was staring down at her feet, and while she appeared stoic and unbothered by her punishment, he could see her pain in the details of her body—the way her toes curled into her sandaled feet, the tremor that shook her legs, the hard fists she made behind her back, the set of her mouth that seemed to make her jaw far more prominent. The metal at her back had to be scorching, and if he had to guess, her skin was covered in blisters.
They continued across the courtyard, though as Hades looked ahead once more, he found Hippolyta approaching. There was something enchanting about her face. Perhaps it had something to do with her eyes, which were pastel green and heavy-lidded. She looked perpetually bored but stern. Her blond hair was braided away from her face and she wore white. Cinched around her waist was her leather girdle. It was a plain piece of ornamentation that laced closed at the front, though as far as relics went, it was probably best it was so unremarkable. No one expected mediocrity from the gods. They’d assume it had no power save its utility.
“Lord Hades,” she said. “You are here to see me?”
“I am,” he said. “I’ve come to ask for your belt.”
He saw no need to be anything other than direct. He did not have time, and neither did Hippolyta.
There was a pause. “I appreciate that you do not dally, though your request seems out of character.”
“It is.”
He said nothing more, not wishing to offer an explanation, and Hippolyta did not ask for one, likely because she did not care. The Amazon queen studied him for a moment, then said, “I am not opposed, though it would need to be a fair exchange.”
“I have a trade in mind,” he said. “Though it is not conventional.”
He was not certain Hera would like it, though she had not said when he had to obtain Hippolyta’s belt, and her final message had given him more room for interpretation than she had probably intended—do what you must to trade.
“Go on,” she said.
“I am in need of an aegis,” he said, indicating behind him with a nod. “And one of your own is in need of honor.”
“Zofie is young,” Hippolyta said and, like the other Amazon, did not spare her a glance. “She has a wandering eye that causes her to lose sight of what is truly important.”
She was speaking of discipline.
“Perhaps a charge will give her focus,” Hades said. “If she brings honor, then I will return her to you in exchange for the belt. If she does not—”
“You will kill her,” Hippolyta said.
Hades was not surprised by the queen’s quick command. It was likely their plan for her to begin with, so he nodded.
Not one to delay, Hippolyta nodded.
“We have an agreement, Lord Hades,” she said and glanced at the Amazon who stood a few paces behind Hades. “Bring her.”
The guard left to retrieve Zofie, and with her departure, Hippolyta turned her attention to Hades.
“There is unrest out there,” she said. “I feel it in my blood.”
That premonition was something she had inherited from Ares. It was a type of magic that stirred their lust for battle, and it only confirmed what Helios had said about war.
“You are not wrong,” Hades replied, grimacing.
Hippolyta inclined her head. “You do not like war despite its benefit to your kingdom.”
“There is no benefit for traumatized souls,” Hades said, and as much as the Underworld could offer healing in peace, receiving souls who had died in battle was not an easy thing to witness.
The queen said nothing, and the guard returned with Zofie. Hades turned to observe the woman. He had been right about the blisters. Her skin was bubbled, not only from where the metal pole had touched her but from where the sun had beat down on her shoulders and arms. It was likely her scalp looked the same, though it was hard to tell given her dark hair, which was long and braided. Her hands were still bound, but she no longer looked down. She met his gaze with piercing green eyes.
“Lord Hades has offered you a chance at honor,” said Hippolyta, and when the Amazon heard her speak, her eyes lowered to the ground once more. “If you are found to be inadequate at any point, he has been ordered to kill you.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Look upon me once more, Amazon,” said Hippolyta, and Zofie obeyed. The address communicated the hope Hippolyta had that she would succeed.
“Thank you, my queen,” Zofie said.
Zofie said nothing more, and Hades could not tell what she thought. There were some who might see being in his care as a worse sentence than dying by exposure.
“Goodbye, Hades. Perhaps I will see you again,” Hippolyta said, though there was an element of dread that came with her words, given that she had spoken of war.
He nodded, and the armored Amazon returned them to the gate in silence.
Once outside it, he faced Zofie and tapped her shoulders, healing the blisters while releasing her from her bonds. Her eyes widened as her arms fell to her sides, and as she lifted them to rub each wrist, she whispered, “Thank you.”
“It is not for me to judge what has been viewed as an indiscretion by your people,” Hades said. “All I care about is that you protect my future queen. Do you understand?”
Her expression shifted from surprise and gratitude to one of serious acceptance. She nodded. “Of course, my lord.”
He had to admit, he felt a little less fretful, knowing that Persephone would be actively protected, but his peace was soon disrupted by a call, which he took outside the gates of Terme.
“Yes?”
“They’re dead,” Ilias said, and Hades felt his stomach clench. “All three. Recent too.”
* * *
Hades found Ilias in a cave off the side of a rocky cliff that faced Lake Tritonis. The satyr stood over three dead bodies. Each appeared to have attempted to crawl away from their attacker, with a hand outstretched and a foot curled into the dirt. It had been a long time since he had seen the three sisters, but even in death, they looked no different. Aged faces, hooked noses, and deep frowns. Their bodies were cloaked in black, their snow-white hair peeking from beneath a hood.
“They were stabbed,” said Ilias.
Hades could not see the blood for the black cloaks, but he could tell that the cloth had been sliced everywhere. The attack had been brutal and cruel. Still, the fact that the three sisters lay dead at his feet was shocking, considering they were deities in their own right and their powers included the ability to heal wounds, though these were numerous.
The wind outside howled and whistled, a harrowing wail that seemed to mourn the deaths of the witches. Hades made a circle around them, pausing to kneel near one—Deino, he believed. He reached out and touched one of the wounds. His fingers came away stained with red and black—blood and poison that burned.
“Hera,” Hades said quietly.
“What?”
Hades rose to his feet and smeared the mixture of blood and poison on the wall.
“They were stabbed with hydra blood–tipped blades,” Hades said. “I fought and killed the hydra days ago. I was on my way here when Hera ordered a new labor, which is why I sent you instead.”
It had been a distraction, and it had given Hera the time she needed to order the deaths of the Graeae. The question was why?
After a moment of silence, Hades nodded to Zofie, whom he had brought along, seeing no point in wasting time depositing her elsewhere.
“This is Zofie. She is Persephone’s new aegis. She needs armor and weapons. Get her settled. After that, I need you to look into Hera’s dealings with Theseus.”
He was beginning to see an end to her labors and any hold she had over his marriage to Persephone.
Chapter XXI
Divine Retribution
Night had come, and Hades was in search of Dionysus. He’d first gone to Bakkheia, only to be stopped at the doors and informed that the God of the Vine was not there. When Hades had asked where the god might be, he received no answer.
There were few places he might be, or at least to Hades’s knowledge, but one of them included the Theater of Dionysus, which had been erected to honor and worship him. It was there Hades ventured, to the horseshoe-shaped theater that was located downtown near the Acropolis where Persephone worked.
On this night, a comedy called Lysistrata was being performed. The play’s title character decides to end the Peloponnesian War by encouraging her fellow Athenian women to abstain from sex with their husbands, a tactic that eventually succeeds. Onstage, the actors and chorus wore grotesque masks with an array of expressions, and despite some that were to appear serene and content, they were all somehow horrifying with wide, gaping mouths and hollow eyes. Some wore wreaths on their heads wrapped with ivy and berries. Peals of laughter broke out during song and dance and spoken word, though Hades did not hear the performance, his gaze focused on the crowd.
He found Dionysus sitting at the very front of the orchestra. The seats to his left and right were empty, likely a request he’d made so that he could sit alone.
Hades approached and took a seat beside him. Dionysus kept his gaze on the performance as he spoke. “Have you come to tell me the Graeae are dead?”
“I assumed you would know by now,” Hades said. “Seems I was right.”
Dionysus did not offer any information on how he had found out, but Hades guessed that one of his maenads had spied Ilias handling the situation and communicated their discoveries.
There was silence between them, though all around, the performance continued and the crowd reacted, laughing and cheering.
“I don’t understand,” Dionysus said at last.
“Don’t you?” Hades countered.
It was the first time the God of the Vine looked at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“The Graeae were just as much a weapon as the secrets they kept,” Hades said. “It’s clear whoever killed them preferred to sacrifice their use rather than allow the power to fall into our hands.”
“You keep saying ‘our,’” Dionysus pointed out. “We are not on the same side.”
“Then what side are you on?”
Hades never thought he’d feel any kind of way about Dionysus’s allies until now, and he had to admit, he hoped that he’d align with him.
Though, he did not know what it meant to take sides yet. All he knew was that someone—potentially Hera and Theseus—was learning to kill the divine. The divide was complicated. Aligning against them seemed to mean siding with Zeus, which was not something Hades particularly wanted.
“I am on my own side,” Dionysus said.
As much as Hades respected that, this was not a situation where being neutral would work.
“You realize the death of the Graeae means more than the loss of Medusa,” Hades said. “It means that someone has found a way to kill us.”
“Then it sounds like I need to be on their side,” Dionysus said.
Hades’s lips flattened. “Is that your plan?” he asked, then tilted his head. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d be the first to kneel.”
Dionysus’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t about submission, Hades. It’s about lying low until the opportune moment.”
“And what moment is that, Dionysus? When everyone stronger than you is dead?”
“You’re not very strong if you’re dead.”
They were quiet for a few moments before Hades said, “I’ve never really liked you.”
“Nor I you.”
“But I respected you because I thought you were a protector.” Hades thought about all the women he’d pulled out of harmful situations, how he had trained them to protect themselves. He had helped them take back their power, yet here he would let the Graeae’s deaths go unavenged. He would hide. He was a coward. “Turns out, you are…but only of your own interests.”
He noted how Dionysus swallowed at his comment, and Hades rose to his feet.
“I am not saying choose a side,” Hades said at last. “I’m telling you to choose allies. This is not a war that will see any of us unpunished.”
With that, he left the theater.
* * *
It was late when he returned to the Underworld and found his bed empty.
He had not expected to find Persephone there, but it reminded him of how they parted and made his chest feel like an open chasm. Despite this, he tried to sleep, but all he saw when he closed his eyes was her on the floor before him, sobbing and bleeding.
I don’t know how to lose someone, Hades,she’d said, and as much as he knew what that was like, he realized he didn’t know how to lose her, but that was exactly what was happening. The ironic part was that all he’d been doing this whole time was fighting to keep her—or at least the possibility of their future together.
He must have fallen asleep eventually, because he woke later with a pounding headache. His mouth felt dry and his tongue swollen. He stumbled out of bed and poured himself a drink, but before he could take a sip, a strange feeling straightened his spine, and an unnerving silence blanketed the room. He set his glass down with a click and headed for the balcony, summoning his clothes as he did.
In the distance, beyond the mountainous peaks of Tartarus, the gray sky had begun to whirl and rumble.
The Fates were angry.
What the fuck had happened?
He started to teleport as dread gathered heavily in his stomach, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned to find a pale-faced Thanatos.
No. It can’t be.
He knew what the God of Death was going to say. He could already feel the betrayal in his bones, grinding away.
“She did it,” Thanatos said. “Persephone did it. She made a deal with Apollo to heal Lexa.”
There was something about this that dissolved his previous feeling of regret and turned it to rage. His body shook with it. How could she have been so reckless, and to involve Apollo? After he had been so clear about his hatred for the God of Music? After he had bargained to get her out of owing him anything? Had his sacrifice meant nothing to her?
Hades curled his fingers into fists and met Thanatos’s haunted eyes.
“Release the Furies,” he commanded.
Hades did not often like to call on the Furies. They were not discreet creatures, and their presence in the Underworld—as well as on Olympus—was always known.
He did not even flinch when their horrific cries breached the air, pricking his skin as he turned to see three winged creatures explode from the depths of Tartarus to retrieve Persephone and Apollo.
* * *
Hades felt like he was being torn to pieces from the inside out, his anger was so acute.
Was there no end to this turmoil?
He had killed friends and monsters, bargained and sacrificed. He had made deals to protect and promise a future that he was beginning to think only he wanted.
Hades teleported to Nevernight, where he waited for the Furies to bring his captives. He’d have done this in the Underworld, but he did not want to offer Apollo another invitation into his realm. It was not long before he sensed their approach, an energy so volatile, it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.