The goddess appeared. When she saw Dionysus, her eyes widened, and she moved to place the golden wool over him. There was no silence as they waited for the god to heal between Ariadne’s sniffling and the baby’s frustrated cries, which only seemed to grow louder the longer Phaedra tried to comfort him.
Persephone drew nearer to Hades as they watched Dionysus. She wondered if there were limitations to the fleece. Was there a point when even it could not heal?
Dionysus’s breaths deepened, and then his eyes fluttered and opened. For a brief moment, he seemed confused, but that was quickly eased when his gaze found Ariadne’s. He whispered her name and pressed his palm to her cheek. The detective smiled, though her mouth still quivered, and she covered his hand with her own.
“I’m so sorry,” Phaedra said, still unable to calm her newborn, whose cries seemed to move an octave higher.
“Do not apologize,” Persephone said. “He cannot help it, and you are doing your best, especially given these…harrowing circumstances.”
She could not be sure exactly what they had witnessed, but seeing Dionysus in this state was enough, especially since Phaedra had just given birth.
“Come,” said Hecate, nearing. “I will show you to the library so that you may ease your little one.”
“I will come with you,” Ariadne said, rising to her feet, letting Dionysus’s hand slip from hers.
“I think it is best you stay,” said Hecate. She looked past her to Hades and Persephone. “Lord Hades and Lady Persephone have questions, and I think it is likely you are the only one who can answer them.”
Persephone noted Ariadne’s curled fists, though she did not think it was frustration. The detective likely felt anxiety without eyes on her sister. Persephone knew that feeling because it lived in her heart every day. It was the fear that one day, she would wake up in a new world, one where Hades no longer lived, just like the day she arose without Lexa.
“Anyone want to explain what happened?” Hades asked.
Dionysus sat up, his hand going to his head.
“Are you all right?” Persephone asked, frowning.
“Yes, just dizzy,” he said. “I…I have never felt anything like that.”
“You mean pain?” Hades asked.
“Exactly,” Dionysus said, rising to his feet. “I am usually able to heal, but whatever I was struck with…”
His voice trailed off, but they did not need any more of an explanation.
“Who attacked you?”
“I am certain it was one of Theseus’s men,” said Dionysus. He was looking at the floor as he recalled what happened before he arrived in the Underworld. “I did not see him until it was too late. He had your helm, Hades.”
Dionysus met Hades’s gaze as he spoke the last words, and Persephone felt Hades’s anger rising, a wave of energy that heated her own skin.
“His name is Perseus,” said Ariadne. “He is a skilled warrior and an excellent tracker.”
“Perseus,” Hades repeated. “A son of Zeus?”
Ariadne nodded. “Of all the demigods, I would say he is the closest to Theseus.”
There was silence, and then Dionysus spoke. “I thought you might rejoice, Hades. You were right. Theseus did come.”
“I take no pleasure in your pain, Dionysus,” Hades said. “And if that is what you think, then you misunderstood my words.”
The silence that followed was strained, though something in Dionysus’s demeanor shifted. For a moment, Persephone thought he might apologize for his comment, but Hades was quick to dismiss them.
“We were just about to summon our allies to hear council on how we should proceed with Theseus,” he said. “At least now I do not have to go looking for you. Go. Bathe and be ready in an hour.” Hades looked down at Persephone. “Brief Aphrodite, Harmonia, and Sybil. I will return with Ilias, Hephaestus, and Apollo.”
“What about Her—”
Hades pressed a finger to her lips.
“Do not speak his name,” said Hades, dropping his hand.
Persephone drew her brows together. “Is…there something else I should know about?”
“Unless you want to hear another monologue about the faults of our hospitality and how loud you moan when I fuck you, then I suggest waiting until the last possible second to summon the God of Glitter.”
Persephone arched her brow. “As I recall, his monologue included an impression of you, not me.”
“That was before our most recent interlude,” he said.
She narrowed her eyes. “You know he doesn’t have any magic, right?”
“He doesn’t need magic to be summoned. At this point, it is a sixth sense. He’s just selective when he decides to use it.” Hades tilted her head back a little farther. “I will see you in an hour.”
She smiled as he kissed her, ignoring the dread that seeped into her stomach when he vanished, unable to keep from worrying that he might not return. The thought frustrated her, but she knew it would be a long time before that fear ever went away, given the horror of the labyrinth.
Persephone left the foyer in search of Aphrodite, Harmonia, and Sybil. When she did not find them in the queen’s suite, she wandered outside. As she stepped into the light, there were no signs of the decay that had plagued her realm during Hades’s absence. The air smelled like spring, earthy and floral, and everything seemed brighter and fuller. While it should feel normal, Persephone thought it seemed almost overdone, almost as if Hades thought he could make everyone forget what had happened during his absence.
She wondered if she had made a mistake when she’d allowed the Underworld to wither. In that moment, it had seemed like the right thing to do. She did not know if she would have been capable of summoning anything beautiful and lively with how she had felt, and what would she have done had he not returned? She thought of how Hades had described the start of his reign in the Underworld, how he’d lived a colorless and desolate life. Would she have subjected her people to that existence again?
The thought scared her.
She did not wish to be that kind of queen.
“Persephone!”
She looked up at the sound of her name and saw Sybil, who had risen to her feet at the sight of her. Persephone had been so lost in thought, she had nearly walked past her, Aphrodite, and Harmonia. They sat on a marble bench among the palace gardens, looking ethereal beneath the glow of the sun.
She smiled, feeling a genuine burst of happiness warm her chest, her anxiety momentarily forgotten as she crossed the green to them, embracing Sybil, then Aphrodite, then Harmonia. She held on to her longest before pulling away, holding the goddess’s clear-eyed gaze.
“I am so glad you are well,” Persephone said.
“I am well because of you,” said Harmonia. “Thank you, Persephone.”
“I do not deserve your thanks,” said Persephone. “You would have never found yourself in such a position if it wasn’t for me.”
“Do not shoulder the guilt of what happened to us,” said Harmonia. “You could not have known Theseus would be so evil.”
It was true that Persephone had not understood the extent of his malice until it was too late. Perhaps that would not have been the case had Hades been honest about his own dealings with the demigod.
All of a sudden, she felt an incredible rush of anger. It was like lightning in her veins, burning her body. As quickly as it shot through her, it was gone, leaving her cold and shaken. It was the first time she understood how she really felt about the entire thing, and it scared her.
“As much as I wish to give you more time for peace, I’m afraid I have come with bad news,” she said. “Hypnos arrived at the gates of the Underworld, slain by Theseus’s hand.”
Aphrodite looked pale, and Harmonia pressed a hand to her mouth. She decided she would wait until the meeting to tell them about Zeus and the lightning bolt.
“We are summoning our allies to discuss how we will move forward in our war against Theseus. I would like for the three of you to be present. Hades has already left to call on Hephaestus and Apollo. We will meet in Hades’s office within the hour,” Persephone said.
There was silence for a moment. Persephone’s attention was drawn to Aphrodite as the goddess shook her head.
“We act as if we are not gods,” she said. “We should have killed this man years ago.”
“We may be gods,” Persephone said. “But we are ruled by a power greater than us.”
“You mean the Fates?” Aphrodite sneered. “There is no greater betrayal than their golden threads, weaving pain and suffering while they sit idly in their mirrored halls. Perhaps it is they who should—”
“Aphrodite!” Harmonia snapped, her tone full of warning. “You sound like them.”
Like the Impious. Like Triad.
Except in some ways, Persephone agreed. The Fates were not directed by a sense of justice. They measured, wove, and cut to control under the guise of maintaining balance. When Hades took or gave life, they demanded an exchange. When Demeter had begged for a child, they had given her a daughter but entangled her fate with one of her greatest rivals.
It had been a punishment for Demeter and a gift to Hades and Persephone, but even now, they knew not to take it for granted, always aware that at any moment, the Fates might unravel their destiny. While Hades had always sworn to find his way back to her, deep down, she knew that while the three lived, it would be impossible.
Persephone could not help wondering what they had prepared for the future of the world.
“Do you think the Fates will really allow Theseus to overthrow the Olympians?” she asked.
“If they wish to punish us,” said Aphrodite.
“Even if Theseus intends to kill them?”
“The Moirai cannot see their end,” said Sybil. “It is the price they pay for weaving the fate of the world. It is likely they do not expect to die any time soon, especially at the hand of a demigod.”
Zeus had assumed the same, and now he lay tangled within the bonds of eternal sleep, weaponless and vulnerable, but perhaps that was the end they had woven for their father. It was impossible to know, and the sisters certainly wouldn’t tell.
It left Persephone wondering if, in some ways, Theseus was right. Should their battle begin with the end of the Fates?
CHAPTER XXVII
HADES
Hades manifested in a dark room within his palace where Hermes had taken up residence. He was immediately hit with the sound of the god’s guttural snoring. It was so loud, it vibrated the air around him, and he wondered if Hermes was actually breathing.
Hades summoned light in the fireplace and the sconces on the walls, but Hermes didn’t even flinch.
“Hermes!” Hades’s voice thundered in the small room, but the god did not startle.
He probably cannot hear me over the sound of his own snoring, Hades thought.
He approached the bed on which Hermes lay starfished on his stomach.
“Hermes!” he said again.
Then he grasped the coverlet and pulled it off.
“Fucking Fates,” he muttered.
Hermes was naked.
Of course he was naked.
Hades summoned a splash of ice-cold water. As it hit his bare back, Hermes screamed. It was the same high-pitched tone he’d managed while on Ares’s island. He rolled onto his back and somehow managed to jump to his feet. He looked as if he were ready for a fight.
Hades tossed him the blanket, and Hermes grabbed it, hugging it to his front.
“What the fuck, Hades,” he snapped. “A gentle shake would have sufficed.”
“I am not interested in being gentle with you.”
“Oh, come on,” he groaned. “Now you’re just fucking with me.”
“I am not fucking with you.”
“Yes, you are,” he hissed. “Don’t you know how sexual that sounds?”
“No,” Hades said.