“Helios is the God of the Sun,” Hera said. “His role is important—more important than a minor goddess’ obsessive love.”
“If he were so great, could he not melt the snowstorm that ravages the earth?”
“Enough!” Zeus’s voice echoed in the chamber; his eyes gleaming as they fell upon her. Persephone felt her insides shake. She did not like Zeus’s gaze, did not like whatever thoughts were churning inside his head. Still, when he spoke, she was pleased by his words.
“You have given us much to consider, goddess. We will search for Demeter—all of us. If she is in league with Triad, let her admit it and face punishment. Until that point, however, I will defer judgment on your wedding to Hades a little while longer.”
Hera glared at her husband, clearly unsatisfied with this choice.
“Thank you, Lord Zeus,” she said, bowing her head.
She hated speaking the words or thinking too long upon why he’d made this decision. She had a feeling he hoped to somehow gain her favor.
Persephone’s eyes shifted to Hades as Zeus continued.
“On this night, we will say goodbye to Tyche.”
One by one, the gods vanished from the room.
“See you later, Sephy!” Hermes said.
Hades left his throne and Persephone spoke as he approached.
“I’m sorry. I know you asked that I stay hidden, but I couldn’t. Not when they wished—”
He silenced her with a kiss—it seared her lips and her mouth and when he pulled away, he held her face.
“You were wonderful,” he said. “Truly.”
Her eyes watered. “I thought they would take me from you.”
“Never,” he whispered, and he spoke the word over and over again like a prayer—a desperate plea—until she almost believed it.
CHAPTER XXI – A TOUCH OF FEAR
The pyre upon which Tyche rested was beautiful—marble, set with emeralds and rubies and dusted with gold. Upon it were stacks of wood, and atop that, Tyche herself. Her face and limbs were pale white, bathed in moonlight. Her body draped in black silk. Her hair, as dark as midnight, spilled over the edge of the pyre.
The gods stood several feet away in an arc while other residents of Olympus gathered behind them. There were no words spoken as Hephaestus lit the pyre with his magic. The flames were small at first but consumed quickly and Persephone couldn’t look away.
My mother has done this, she thought.
Her eyes watered, as the air filled with smoke. The sprigs of lavender and rosemary meant to help cover the smell, could not mask the overwhelming scent of burning flesh. Hades’ arms tightened around her waist.
“Tyche’s death was not your fault,” he said. She felt the vibration of his voice against her back. She did not feel at fault, but she did wonder who would be next? How soon until her mother and Triad struck again?
“Where do gods go when they die?” Persephone asked.
“They come to me, powerless,” he said. “And I give them a role in the Underworld.”
“What kind of role?”
Persephone was curious, given the bargains he made with mortals.
“It depends on what challenged them in their life as a god. Tyche, though, she always wanted to be a mother. So, I will gift her with the Children’s Garden.”
Something thick gathered in her throat and it took her several moments to swallow it down.
“Will we be able to speak with her? About the way she died?”
Persephone hated to ask, but she wanted to know Tyche’s story just as they knew Harmonia’s.
“Not immediately,” he answered. “But within the week.”
Persephone did not relish the idea of asking Tyche to relive her death, especially once she was in the Underworld. It was supposed to be a space of renewal and healing, but they could not fight this enemy if they did not know what they were dealing with.
Her gaze lingered on the flames consuming the goddess until they dwindled and nothing but the bright, blurred image of embers remained.
***
It was late when Persephone woke. The hazy light of the Underworld filtered in through the windows. She rolled, surprised to find Hades lying beside her.
“You’re awake,” he murmured. He lay on his side, hair down, eyes shadowed.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Have you slept?”
“I have been awake for a while.”
It was his way of answering no.
Hades brushed her lips with his fingers. “It is a blessing to watch you sleep.”
With so much happening, Persephone hadn’t thought much about her nightmares. Since Hades had brought Hypnos to visit her, they’d remained at bay, though Persephone doubted that had much to do with the God of Sleep, and more to do with the fact that she had been healing from severe injuries.
They stared at one another for a long moment, and then Persephone let her head fall to Hades’ chest. He was warm and she could feel and hear his heart beating against her ear—a steady rhythm that kept pace for her.
“Did Tyche make it across the river?” Persephone asked.
“Yes, Hecate was there to greet her. They are very good friends.”
That was comforting. Hades’ thumb brushed lightly up and down her lower back. His hands were warm, the movement lulled her, making her eyes heavy with sleep.
“I would like to train with you today,” Hades said after a moment.
“I would like that,” she said. She had trained with Hades before and always learned something. He was gentle and patient in his instruction, and it inevitably resulted in sex.
“I don’t think you will,” Hades said.
Persephone pushed away just enough to meet his gaze.
“Why do you say that?”
His gaze bore into hers—a darkness lingered there as deep and as ancient as his magic.
“Just remember that I love you.”
***
Persephone felt a deep sense of dread as she stood opposite Hades at the center of her grove. It was the way he was looking at her—as if he’d buried all his warmth. He was dressed in a short, black chiton that showed off his powerful arms and thighs. Her gaze drifted over his skin, the rise and fall of his muscles and when she found her way back to his eyes, a deep ache settled in her chest. He stared back, emotionless, when desire would normally ignite his eyes.
Then he spoke, his voice low and gruff, shivering down her spine.
“I will not watch you bleed again,” he said.
“Teach me,” she breathed.
She’d requested the same of him the night they’d met, when she had invited him to her table to play cards. Then she hadn’t understood what she was really asking—she wasn’t sure she understood now, but the difference was this god loved her.
“You love me,” she whispered.
“I do.”
But the truth of it wasn’t written on his face. He looked severe, the hollow of his cheeks deep and shadowed. Then the air around them changed, growing heavy and charged. She had felt this before, in the Forest of Despair when Hades’ magic had risen to challenge her own. It raised the hair upon her arms and made her heartbeat feel sluggish in her chest.
Then, everything went silent.
Persephone hadn’t even noticed the noise before; she just knew there was an absence of it now. She glanced at the silvery trees that surrounded them, at the dark canopy overhead—and then she noticed movement to her left and right. Before she had time to react, something shadowy passed through her, shaking her very bones, jarring her soul. It wasn’t exactly painful, but it did steal her breath. She fell to her knees, her stomach churning. She wanted to vomit.