Persephone’s eyes shifted to his, and she saw within him a virtue his wife did not possess. As much as he would try to honor her, his wife would not. She was surprised by the thought, though she felt deeply that it was true and wondered if this was how Hades felt when he looked at souls.
“I will not hold you to a promise she should make,” said Persephone, and then her eyes fell to the little boy. “You are welcome to play. I only wished to know that you were okay.”
“We are grateful, my lady,” said the man as he pulled his wife and child away.
Persephone stared after them. She did not mean to, but she could not look away.
She would not say that she could see their souls, but she understood them—the man was hardworking and honest, but his wife carried hatred in her heart, and it had made her angry and bitter. Inherently, she was not bad, but she sought someone to blame for her pain.
In the end, she would curse her name.
“Are you all right, Sephy?” Hermes asked as he approached.
“Yes,” she lied, but that was easier than the truth, which felt complicated and confused, swirling inside her like a terrible storm. “Did you come through the tunnels?”
“I did,” he said, and Persephone knew by his expression that it was as they feared. “It’s not good, Sephy.”
Her stomach twisted violently. “You don’t think…they aren’t all dead?”
“I don’t know. Hades is still investigating,” said Hermes, and he paused for a moment. “Dionysus will be devastated.”
She did not know the god very well, but she had learned more about him since meeting Ariadne. She knew that he had spent a lot of his years helping women escape horrible situations only to now have them die a terrible death at the hands of Theseus.
“I hate him, Hermes,” Persephone said.
“So do I, Sephy,” he said. “So do I.”
Ilias was the last to arrive with only a handful of people.
“Is this everyone?” Persephone asked, only confused because every other group had been far larger.
“No,” he said. “Quite a few refused to leave.”
“Refused?” Persephone repeated.
“I told them what would happen tomorrow, what Theseus was planning,” said Ilias. “But they did not wish to abandon Athena.”
“It’s her temple, not the goddess herself,” said Persephone, immediately frustrated.
“I won’t pretend to understand it,” said the satyr. “But it complicates things for tomorrow.”
“Fuck.”
Battle should serve a purpose beyond bloodshed, Athena had said the last time Persephone had seen her outside Thebes. That was before the Olympians had battled, and neither she nor Hestia had participated. Persephone wondered now if the goddess would change her mind, especially if it meant her followers would face needless and violent deaths.
“What do we do?” Persephone asked.
“We’ll talk to Hades when he returns,” said Ilias. “Perhaps if the other temples are destroyed, it will be enough of a distraction to keep Athena’s safe.”
Persephone frowned but agreed, her anxiety returning as she was once again reminded how long Hades had been gone.
She distracted herself with tasks, passing out water and replenishing snacks. Eventually she found herself sitting at the base of the steps, growing wildflowers to make crowns for the children who sat around her, entertained by her magic. Harmonia joined her, and Persephone could tell by the feel of her magic, warm and radiant, that she was using it to maintain peace within the crowded space.
Eventually, everything got quieter as the mortals settled in. One by one, the children left to sleep, and Persephone rose to her feet with Harmonia.
“Are you all right, Persephone?” the goddess asked.
“No,” she said, meeting her soft gaze. “If I don’t distract myself, I think I might break.”
“It’s okay to break,” said Harmonia. “Do it now before tomorrow comes.”
She almost did. The tears were already burning her eyes, but then she felt a rush of Hades’s magic, and her heart rose in her chest only to fall into the bottom of her stomach when he manifested in the middle of the floor with an unconscious woman in his arms.
Persephone ran to him.
“Hecate!” he snapped, lowering the woman to the ground.
“What happened?” the goddess asked, appearing beside him in an instant.
“I don’t know. I found her in the tunnels,” Hades said. “Her name is Naia.”
Naia.
Persephone recognized her from her short visit to Dionysus’s tunnels, though she barely resembled that person now, her face pale and her lips blue. She was nearly drained of life.
Hecate placed a hand to Naia’s forehead and then over her chest. After a few seconds, a trickle of water came out of her mouth but nothing substantial.
“Bring her,” said Hecate, rising to her feet.
Hades glanced at Persephone as he followed, disappearing behind the curtained area Hecate had designated as the infirmary. He placed Naia on one of the pallets while Hecate worked to concoct some kind of bitter medicine.
“Is she the only one who survived?” Persephone asked.
“There are more parts of the tunnel I have not checked,” said Hades. “I will return with help. Hopefully we can cover more ground and find more survivors.”
“Is there no chance others escaped?”
She thought of Ariadne, Phaedra, and the baby. Please say it is possible, she begged.
“It is possible,” he said. “We can try to broadcast within the underground and see if anyone responds, but with communications down, it will be far more difficult.”
Persephone’s gaze fell to the woman. When she looked at her, it seemed that her soul was almost underwater, like her body had been in the tunnels. She understood what it meant though—that she was in limbo.
Naia had not decided whether to stay or go.
“I will treat what I am able,” said Hecate. “The rest is up to her.”
Persephone stepped out of the curtained room, and Hades followed.
“Are you well?” he asked. Slipping a hand around her waist, he drew her close.
“That has a complicated answer,” she said.
“I am sorry to leave you again,” he said.
“I could help,” she offered.
He shook his head. “It isn’t that I do not want your help or need it,” he said. “But I do not wish for you to see what I have seen.”
She understood, trusting the horror in his eyes.
“I love you,” she said, closing her eyes against the feel of his lips on her forehead.
“I love you,” he replied. “Rest, darling. There will be none after tonight.”
When he released her, she felt like she might collapse, but she managed to remain on her feet as she watched him cross the room to Ilias, Hermes, and Artemis. When they left, she made her way upstairs to Hades’s office, slumped against the doors, and broke.
Persephone was roused by a gentle shake. When she opened her eyes, she found Hades sitting beside her. She had fallen asleep on the couch in his office.
“Hades,” she said, her voice thick with sleep.
“Come,” he said. “Let us spend the rest of the night in our own bed.”
It took Persephone a few moments to rise, but when she did, she felt more awake.
“Did you find any more survivors?” she asked.
“Only two,” he said. “Though I do not have much hope for their survival.”
Persephone’s eyes instantly watered, and Hades’s fingers danced along the height of her cheekbone. Her face felt tender.
“You have been crying.”
“I tried not to,” she said. “But I could not contain it.”
“You do not have to,” he said. Rising and gathering her into his arms, he teleported to the Underworld.
The familiar smell and warmth of their room eased the tension in her chest.
Hades placed her on her feet and slid his hand into her hair.
“I know I have not been able to make you forget,” he said. “But I would still make love to you tonight.”
Her eyes watered even as he kissed her, his hands dipping beneath the collar of her dress. As it slipped from her shoulders to her feet, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he drew her legs around his waist, carrying her to bed.
When he laid her down, he kissed her long and slow, and as his fingers danced over her skin, she grew warm, and a different ache overtook the one that had burdened her all day, one so deep and desperate she had no desire to wait for him any longer. She reached for him and guided him to her heat, and when she was full of him, all the air left her lungs. It was blissful—a death like no other.
Hades kissed her, one hand cradling her head, the other hooked beneath her knee, and for some reason—maybe it was the way he looked at her or the heat—she was reminded of when she had dreamed of him. For a moment, she feared this wasn’t real and that soon she would wake to find all this had been a dream.
Her fingers bit into his skin, desperate to keep him.
“Where are you?” he asked, brushing damp strands of her hair from her face. She held his gaze, and he bent to kiss her, whispering against her lips. “Live in this moment with me.”
“Don’t say that,” she said. Her chest ached. “It is what you said when you weren’t real.”
“I am real now,” he said. “I am here now.”
She wept. “I’m not worried about now,” she whispered. “I am worried about after.”
Hades cupped her face, brushing away her tears. “I will be here,” he promised. “So do not leave me now.”
He pressed his mouth to hers, and it unlocked something frenzied in each of them. Hades took her by the wrists and held them over her head, pressing them into the bed. His thrusts went harder and deeper. Persephone wrapped her legs around him, her heels digging into his ass. She wanted to move with him, but all she could do was hold on as he thrust. His pace set a dizzying rhythm that had her body twisting and tightening. A moan welled in her throat.
“Yes,” she whispered over and over, and all the while, Hades’s eyes never left her face.
When she came, he kissed her with his tongue and teeth, his hips grinding hard into hers as he followed her over the edge.
He settled against her, his head resting on her chest, and she held him tight.
He did not disappear, and she refused to cry.
CHAPTER XXXVI
PERSEPHONE
A knock woke Persephone from sleep.
Hades was on his feet before she had even opened her eyes, making his way across the room, his magic cloaking him in robes as he went.
“Hades!”
It was Ilias. The sound of his frantic voice made Persephone’s heart race.
The doors opened, and the satyr rushed in, his eyes wide with panic.
“Theseus has struck. Artemis sent word. He is raiding Athena’s temple as we speak!”
Persephone rose from bed.
“He wasn’t supposed to act until morning,” Persephone said, using her glamour to dress.
“He must have gotten word that we emptied the temples,” said Ilias.
Or someone had betrayed them. Either way, the battle was happening sooner than any of them had anticipated.
Hades turned to Persephone. There was a haunted look in his gaze, and she knew that he did not want her to come, that he did not want her to be part of this battle.
“I have just as much need to watch him die as you do, Hades,” she said.
He held out his hand, and she thought that he meant for her to take it, but instead, a ribbon of shadow came from his palm and wound around her body, turning into leather-like armor.
“Come,” he said, and this time, she took his hand.
They teleported together.
Persephone did not know what to expect when they arrived, but she certainly did not think it would be so bright. It was supposed to be night.
“Helios,” Hades growled.
Persephone blinked, eyes watering, and as her vision adjusted, the true horror of what was about to unfold became clear.
Hades had appeared beside Artemis, Hephaestus, and Hecate. Opposite them were four familiar demigods. Each one held a blade to the throat of a priestess. The women had their eyes closed, their mouths moving in silent prayer. In the distance, she could hear screams from inside the temple where the other mortals were locked inside.
“It’s good that you could join us,” said Theseus.
“Why are you doing this?” Persephone demanded. “None of these people have harmed you.”
“If I am to make a new world, there can be no one left who believes in the old gods.”
“We are not old gods yet,” said Hades.
“But you have old weaknesses,” said Theseus. He glanced up at the sky. “How is the sun treating you, Hecate?”
Persephone looked at the goddess, who offered a small smile. “It is kind of you to ask, Theseus, but I am well.”
She did not understand the exchange. Did the sun weaken Hecate’s magic?
“I am nothing but concerned for your well-being,” replied the demigod.
It was then Persephone’s gaze caught on something in the distance—the gleam of steel. It was an army of foot soldiers—of hundreds of mortals.
It was also a distraction. A series of low gasps sounded, and Persephone’s and Hecate’s magic flared to life, freezing the demigods’ hands, but it was too late. Their blades had landed, and blood was already spilled.
A strange sound followed, like the air was being sucked out of the world, and the demigods broke the hold Persephone and Hecate had on them, dropping the priestesses to the ground.
The air flooded with magic, thick and heavy—a dizzying mix of all the gods. Debris began to rise. Persephone couldn’t tell who was responsible. Maybe they all were—their power collectively reacting to the horror before them.
The demigods drew their weapons, Hades summoned his bident, Hephaestus his fiery whip, and Artemis her bow. Persephone and Hecate remained weaponless. As she eyed the sharp tips of the demigods’ blades, anxiety swirled in her chest.
Magic did not matter if that poisoned end met her flesh.
She started to consider her first move, glancing to her left and right. She was flanked by Hecate and Hades—Hades, who looked magnificent, towering in black armor. In some ways, she wished she was as battle honed as he was, but she would not be a liability.
Then Hecate vanished.
Persephone’s heart raced, and the demigods raised their weapons.
Theseus chuckled.
“It appears your Titaness has abandoned you. Perhaps you should get used to the feeling.”
But Persephone knew that wasn’t true. She could still taste the metallic tang of Hecate’s magic on the back of her tongue.
Then Theseus looked down, scraping his shoe against the pavement.
“Oh, now isn’t that unfortunate?” he said. “There is blood on my shoes.”
Persephone gritted her teeth, and her nails bit into her palms. Her magic raged inside her. She knew Theseus had said it to provoke, that he liked jabbing an already-raw wound, and as much as she wanted to attack, she didn’t make the first move. Artemis did.
The Goddess of the Hunt gave an angry cry as she darted toward Theseus, grief fueling her rage, and as their blades clashed, the demigods who had murdered the priestesses attacked.
Persephone had expected Sandros to challenge her first, given that she had buried him under a pile of adamant outside the labyrinth, but she was surprised when Kai appeared before her. Looking at him was like looking into the face of Poseidon and Theseus, his eyes the same sparkling aqua.
She had come to despise them.