“That all sounds well and good,” said Hephaestus. “But what about Cronos? The Titan can manipulate our world, make us see things that are not there.”
“He will have to be distracted so he cannot use his power again,” said Hecate.
“I can manage that,” said Ares.
“You cannot,” said Hephaestus.
Hermes snickered.
“Are you trying to challenge me, metal leg?” asked Ares.
“Shut up, Ares,” Aphrodite snapped.
“I am warning you,” Hephaestus said. “You do not know Cronos’s capabilities because you were not there today.”
There was a beat of silence, and then Persephone spoke. “What about Prometheus?”
“He would certainly distract Cronos,” said Hades. “There is no love between the two.”
“Will he join our side?”
“He will not exactly join our side,” said Hecate. “But he will help if mortals are under threat. We will not have to ask him for that. He will just appear as he did today.”
Prometheus was the creator of man, and he had sacrificed a lot to see them thrive—namely his quality of life.
“I hope you aren’t wrong,” said Ares.
“I am never wrong, Ares,” she said.
“Hmm, debatable,” Hermes said.
Hecate elbowed him in the ribs.
“Ouch!” he cried. “Motherfucker!”
With their plans set, the gods dispersed. Hephaestus, Aphrodite, and Ares left to arm the mortals who had agreed to fight tomorrow. Hades had hoped Persephone would stay behind so they could talk about his decision to surrender to Theseus, but she left his office with Hermes in tow.
He knew she was upset but also scared. With Cronos’s reality fresh on her mind, all she could think about was the possibility of his death, and he could not blame her. It was the same for him.
“Are you well, Hades?” Hecate asked.
She had yet to return to her duties—whatever they were. Harvesting organs, apparently.
He took a breath and then stood. “I think I need fresh air,” he said.
“I will join you,” she said.
Together they made their way to the floor of Nevernight and stepped just outside the entrance.
Hades stared up at the sky.
“I have never known you to stargaze,” said Hecate.
“I am not,” said Hades. “I am looking at what isn’t there. The ophiotaurus has not returned to the sky.”
Hecate looked. “Hmm. You are right. Pity.”
Hades’s gaze fell to her. “I know that voice.”
“Of course you do,” she said. “It is mine.”
“I mean, I can tell you are disappointed,” he said. “What did I do? What did I miss?”
“I am not disappointed,” she said. “But your creativity is lacking.”
“I admit I am only creative in one area of my life,” he said.
She snorted. “That is because nothing else interests you.”
“You are not wrong.”
“Tell me the prophecy, Hades.”
He had thought of it so often over the last month, he knew it by heart.
“If a person slays the ophiotaurus and burns its entrails, then victory is assured against the gods.”
“Victory,” she said. “What is victory, Hades?”
“Victory is winning,” he said.
“Very good,” she said, and though Hades glared, she continued. “And what can you win?”
“A battle,” Hades said. “A war.”
It was the obvious first choice.
“You are almost there,” she said.
He stared at her for a moment and then answered, “A game.”
“And there it is,” she said.
“You are saying I can fulfill the prophecy by losing a game to Theseus?”
“I am saying that he has won a lot of battles against the gods, and still the ophiotaurus remains absent. Is it not worth a try?”
Hades supposed anything was worth a try.
“I do not just want to sabotage his future,” Hades said. “I want him dead.”
“Ah yes. Too bad he is invincible.”
“You know you are not helping.”
She shrugged. “Aphrodite was right. Even Achilles had a weakness. You already know Theseus’s.”
He did, although it was obvious for anyone to see. The demigod was arrogant.
It is not hubris if it is true, he had told Hades, though his comment was just another example of his excessive pride.
Hades was determined that it would be his downfall.
There was silence for a moment, and in the quiet, Hades thought he could hear the shuffling of feet. He turned to look down the street, and his heart seized when he met Dionysus’s gaze. The God of the Vine had returned. He looked exhausted, angry, and devastated. Beside him was a woman Hades did not recognize, but he guessed she must be Medusa.
“Dionysus,” Hades said, turning to face the god.
“My maenads,” Dionysus said and stopped.
“I know,” Hades said. “Come.”
He led Dionysus and Medusa inside to Hecate’s infirmary. When he pulled the curtain back, he was surprised to see Naia awake, propped up with pillows. She looked pale, and there was a cloudiness to her gaze that Hades attributed to her grief.
When she saw Dionysus, she burst into tears. He went to her and knelt beside her, taking her into his arms.
“He has Ariadne, Dionysus,” she wailed. “He took her and her sister and the baby. There was nothing we could do.”
“Shh,” Dionysus soothed. “You did everything you could, Naia. Everything.”
Hecate took Medusa away, and Hades left the two to reunite and grieve together.
Hades was surprised when he found Persephone standing with Artemis, though as he approached, the Goddess of the Hunt departed. Hades watched her go before turning his attention to his wife.
“What was that?” he asked.
“A truce,” she said. “Did I hear correctly? Dionysus has returned?”
He nodded. “Naia is also awake. She says Ariadne, her sister, and the baby were taken by Theseus and the other demigods, which means they are likely behind the wall of Theseus’s fortress.”
Persephone paled. It was evident that breeching the wall would be an important element to winning this war, but now it was necessary to rescue the three.
“I know you are angry with me,” he said.
“I am not angry,” she said. “But it is hard to think of you walking into Theseus’s territory. It is like the labyrinth all over again.”
“If I felt there was another way, I would take it,” he said.
“I know,” she said.
There was a quiet pause, and then Hades spoke. “I wish to show you something, but I do not know if you are ready to return to the arsenal.”
She shivered as she took a deep breath. “I suppose that depends on what you wish to show me,” she answered. “Is it a memory that will overshadow what happened there before?”
“I’m not sure anything can do that,” said Hades. He pressed his forehead to hers. “There is no wrong answer here, Persephone.”
“I will go,” she said. “If I cannot face what I have done, do I really deserve to heal?”
Hades tilted her head back. “Everyone deserves to heal, if not in life, then in death. It is the only way the world evolves when souls are reborn.” He paused. “If it is too much, you will tell me?”
She nodded, and then he cradled her in his magic and took her to the Underworld.
He did not appear inside the arsenal, hoping that entering it from the hallway would prove to be far less overwhelming. He pressed his hand to the pad beside the door, and it opened.
“You repaired it,” said Persephone, standing at the threshold.
“Yes,” he said. He had done so when he had brought Hephaestus’s weapons to the Underworld.
He watched her as her eyes scanned the room, halting when she spotted the armor at the center. Without a word, she left his side and went to it. He had displayed it beside his own, a smaller version of what he wore on the battlefield—layers of black metal, embellished with gold. Elaborate details decorated the breastplate. She traced the design with her fingertips.
“It is beautiful,” she said and then met his gaze. “Thank you.”
“I have something else for you,” he said and produced the bident Hephaestus had made for her.
It had been his weapon for centuries, a symbol of his rule over the Underworld, and now she would have one too.
“Hades,” Persephone whispered, wrapping her fingers around the handle. “I…but I don’t know how to use it.”
“I will teach you,” he said. “It is not for this battle.”
She met his gaze. “Not for this battle but for others?”
“If we have lifetimes ahead of us,” he said, “there is sure to be another.”
“When I think of our future, I do not want to think of war,” she said.
“What do you want to think of then?” he asked, tilting her head back.
“I would like to think of all the things we will celebrate with our people and our friends,” she said. “Endless ascensions, the opening of Halcyon, your first birthday.”
“My first birthday?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “You’ve never celebrated, have you?”
“I don’t exactly know when I was born,” he said. “Even if I did, it isn’t a day I would wish to celebrate.”
“That is why I have chosen a new day of birth for you,” she said.
“Oh? And what day is that?”
“November first,” she said.
He stared down at her, curious. “What made you think of this?”
“Other than you, it was the only good thing that came out of the labyrinth.”
CHAPTER XXXIX
HADES
Hades chose to dress in his usual black, tailored suit.
When he appeared before the gate of the House of Aethra, he did not want to do so in armor. He was not going to fight; he was going to make a deal—perhaps the greatest bargain of his life.
“Are you ready?” Persephone asked.
He turned to look at her, dressed in Hephaestus’s fine armor. She was beautiful, a warrior in her own right.
“Are you?” he asked. He touched her chin, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip.
“I am ready for it to be over,” she said. “So we can start our life.”
He gave her a small smile and then kissed her, his hand slipping into her hair. He held her close and tight, tasting her until she was the only thing that filled his senses.
When they parted, Persephone touched the pocket of his jacket, and there, a red polyanthus flowered.
Her eyes lifted to his. “I will look for you at the gates,” she said.
He took that as a promise, and with a final kiss, he left.
Hades was not surprised to hear the groan of several bows nocking when he appeared before the gate of Theseus’s house. He stared up at the mortals who aimed at him, the tips of their arrows gleaming beneath Selene’s moon.
He said nothing as he waited. He was not often anxious, but today the feeling burned his chest and churned in his stomach. Despite believing this was the right course of action, he knew it would be difficult. He did not like the idea of surrendering to a man he hated, even if it was only to gain entrance and proximity to his target.
He hoped he could maintain the act.
As he expected, Theseus kept him waiting under the threat of his archers. When he finally appeared, it was on the wall at the very center of the gates.
He looked down at Hades, eyes glittering with amusement.
“What a surprise,” Theseus said. “To what do we owe the honor of your presence, Lord Hades?”
The demigod was already testing his patience. Hades worked not to show his frustration—or his hatred.
“I have considered much and consulted many,” said Hades. “I hoped we might speak.”
Hades wanted the demigod to be intrigued by the vagueness of his statements and let his imagination run wild with possibilities of what had brought Hades to his gates in the middle of the night, but if that was the case, Theseus did not let it show. Instead, he tilted his head to the side and offered a single word. “Speak.”
“I have convened with the Fates and borne witness to your future,” said Hades, though it was a lie. “The promise is great.”
“You have told me nothing I do not already know,” said Theseus.
“No,” said Hades. “You have always been certain of your destiny.”
“It is hard to argue with prophecy,” said Theseus.
That was not true, but Hades would not disagree.
“So you have come to what?” Theseus asked. “Do not dance about, Hades. Neither one of us has time for that.”
“I have come to surrender,” said Hades. “To offer my allegiance to your side.”
He was not prepared for how horrible those words would taste. He wanted to spit the moment they left his mouth.