The murder of Briareus.
The last communication he’d had from the goddess was the note she’d attached to Persephone’s article about Apollo, reminding him that she had control over their future as husband and wife. Though something she had said intrigued him—that allies among the Olympians might influence Zeus’s decision. Hades knew his brother well enough, knew there was potential for that to be true, so how did he sway them to his side?
There was a knock, and he looked up as Hermes burst through the door.
“He’s coming,” Hermes said. “He’s angry.”
The God of Mischief didn’t need to specify. Hades knew he was referring to Apollo.
“I want you to watch Persephone,” Hades instructed. “Keep her occupied while I talk to Apollo.”
Hermes raised his skeptical brow. “Because you’re so good at conversing?”
“That’s a big word, Hermes,” Hades replied. “Have you been reading a thesaurus?”
Hermes narrowed his eyes. “Deflect all you want, King of Corpses, but I know you, and you aren’t a talker. What are you planning?”
“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?” Hades pointed out.
“Hardly, and I’m your best friend.”
It was Hades’s turn to raise a brow.
“Don’t deny it. Do you ask Hecate for fashion advice?”
Hades scowled. “Don’t make me regret my decision, Hermes.”
“Regret? Excuse me. Did you get laid in those gray sweatpants I suggested you wear?”
He rolled his eyes.
“Then you can’t regret it!”
“How do you know that was a yes?”
“Hades,” Hermes said, as if he were about to point out something very obvious. “Because I dressed you for sex.”
“Get Apollo, Hermes, and once he’s here, go to Persephone.”
“On it, best friend,” Hermes said as he headed for the door.
Hades left his office. As he started for the throne room, he changed directions and headed for his bedchamber, where Persephone still slept, swathed in silk. She hadn’t moved, still lying on her side, knees bent, hands curled near her face. He brushed a stray curl from her face, fingers lingering on her flushed cheek before teleporting to the throne room where Apollo already waited. He was like his mother, Leto, in appearance, crowned with dark curls and dark eyes that sometimes looked violet when he was frustrated enough, but that was where the similarities ended. Unlike her, there was no softness to his personality, nor his sister’s for that matter.
“I knew you wouldn’t let your little lover fight the war she started,” said Apollo.
“What’s the matter, Nephew? A few words have you ready for battle?”
“Her words were slander!”
“Is it slander if they are true?”
Hades noted the tightening of his fists. There was a part of him that wished Apollo would act against him in his realm. The affront would mean the god would be forced to end his pursuit of Persephone. While Apollo was often brash, he did not often challenge other gods, and it was likely he wouldn’t challenge Hades, knowing something far more lucrative waited for him if he maintained his composure.
“Truth has nothing to do with this slight,” Apollo replied. “Her blasphemy will be punished, Hades. Even you cannot stop divine retribution.”
Hades took a moment to speak, working to relax his jaw, and when he did, his words felt thick in his mouth. “And what if I offer to bargain?”
Apollo’s eyes flashed, and he lifted his chin, intrigued. Hades hated the slight twitch to his lips as Apollo implored, “Go on.”
“Forgive this slight, and in exchange, I offer a favor.”
“A favor,” Apollo echoed. “That is very generous.”
“The offer is not for your benefit, though you will likely reap the rewards.”
“You must really care for this mortal.”
Hades said nothing. He did not have to. The offer of a favor spoke volumes.
“Fine,” Apollo said. “But she will never—”
The doors to the throne room slammed open, and Hades’s eyes lifted to Persephone, who stood barely dressed in her black robe. Though her exposed skin meant little to Apollo, Hades would have preferred he not see her at all. Every muscle in his body tightened as the God of Music turned to look at her.
“So,” he purred, “the mortal has come to play.”
Hades’s body vibrated with frustration, his eyes sliding to Hermes, who had just come to a stop behind Persephone, looking a little too impish to be completely innocent. Hades glared.
“What?” Hermes asked, defensive. “She guessed!”
“The deal is done. You will not touch her,” Hades said, both as a reminder and as a warning.
“What deal?” Persephone asked, taking a few more steps into the room.
He had not told her of his plans, and now that they were here in this room, he wished he had, even if there had been no time, and even though she wouldn’t have approved, at least she wouldn’t have had to find out this way. He knew it looked bad.
“Your lover has struck a deal,” Apollo said, his disdain for Persephone evident in his tone. It was an insult, and Hades considered challenging the god, but it was a dangerous prospect now that he owed him a favor. “I have agreed not to punish you for your…slanderous article…and in turn, Hades has offered me a favor to be collected at a future time.”
Persephone’s eyes widened, which told him she understood perfectly the implications of his deal.
“Damn,” Hermes whistled, and Hades’s mood darkened. “He really does love you, Sephy.”
“I will not agree to this,” Persephone said.
Hades admired her words; they came out of a concern for him, no matter how futile.
“You don’t have a choice, mortal,” Apollo said.
“I’m the one who wrote the article. Your deal should be with me.”
“Persephone,” Hades warned. While he had accepted Hades’s offer, there was nothing to prevent Apollo from also taking Persephone up on hers.
But Apollo laughed, such was his arrogance. “What could you possibly offer me?”
Persephone’s eyes flashed, her fingers curled into her palms, and Hades allowed his magic to surface in response, hoping it would mask hers.
“You hurt my friend,” she seethed.