“Well, I must say,” Hermes said nervously, “that was the most dramatic fight night I have been to in a long while, wouldn’t you agree?”
Hades just stared.
“I mean, of course you couldn’t agree. You’ve never been,” Hermes continued, wringing his hands. “Let me tell you, though. I have never seen one so…bloody. Leave it to you to set a record.”
Hades did not wish to set records, and the comment only made him feel disgusted. A sickening twist tore at his stomach. He averted his eyes, ignoring Hermes’s incessant talking in favor of the greater conversation at hand.
“Theseus was with Hera,” Hades said, frowning as he recalled how they’d sat together in Hera’s box and conversed as if they were old allies. “Did you know?”
The God of Mischief looked affronted that Hades would ask such a question. “This was the first time I saw him here.”
“And how often are you here?” Hades countered.
Hermes seemed to shrink in on himself, as if realizing why Hades might not trust him in this moment when he admitted, “Every week.”
“Hmm.”
Hades had long suspected Theseus of plotting to overthrow the Olympians. Given the reason for his trials, he could not help wondering if perhaps Hera had formed some kind of alliance with the leader of Triad.
But why be so blatant about their partnership?
“What?” Hermes asked.
Hades looked at the god, arching a brow.
“What does ‘hmm’ mean? You do it all the time.”
Hades blinked, and Hermes continued. “Does it mean you don’t believe me? Or are you disappointed in me? Is it both?”
“It means I am thinking,” Hades said, though he’d have liked to not answer at all and let the god suffer, especially after the day he’d had.
“Oh,” Hermes said, and there was a beat of silence before he replied, “Well, in that case, please continue.”
But Hades rose fully to his feet, downing the rest of the nectar Paean had given him. Once he was finished, he pushed the cup into Hermes’s hands and said, “Perhaps you would not be so defensive if you did not feel so guilty.”
To that, Hermes had nothing to say, so Hades vanished.
Chapter XVII
Iniquity
Hades had been summoned to Hera’s fight night nearly twelve hours ago, and though he’d been healed by Paean, he felt restless and uneasy. There was a kind of horror that thrummed through his body, a darkness he had yet to channel away. It was there when he blinked, in the form of bloodied rocks and crunching bone and the phantom pain of acid burning his skin.
He returned to the Underworld, where he had expected—or rather hoped—to find Persephone. There was a part of his brain that needed to lay eyes on her after the ordeal he’d been through, not only to ease his pain but to know that she was still here, that he had fought for her and not lost her.
He was not prepared for the sinking feeling in his chest when he did not find her asleep in their bed, roaming the garden, or at Hecate’s cabin.
“What has you so uneasy, my king?” Hecate asked when she found him outside her home.
“Could it have something to do with the fact that I have been killing all day?” he snapped.
“Murder does put one on edge,” Hecate agreed airily. “Would you like some tea?”
“What I would like is to be free of Hera’s labors,” he said.
“Hera,” Hecate said. “The Goddess of Women who does nothing but punish them. How did you earn her scorn?”
“I told her I would not overthrow Zeus,” Hades replied.
“Yet.” Hecate paused and looked at Hades, who raised a questioning brow. “What? All things must come to an end.”
Hades paused for a moment, then said, “She has threatened my future with Persephone.”
“No one but the Fates can truly threaten your future, Hades.”
“Perhaps, but Hera can turn her scorn on Persephone,” he replied. “And that would be my fault.”
“Is it your fault because you love her?” Hecate asked.
“Isn’t that enough?”
“Your greatest battle, Hades, will be recognizing that Persephone too has made the decision to love you. So there is no fault, only choice.”
It was a pretty sentiment, but he was dealing with gods—gods like him.
“That was before she knew the consequences.”
“You think so little of her love?” Hecate asked.
Hades flinched. He opened his mouth to speak but shut it once more.
“If you continue to project your doubt on her, then you do not deserve a future with her.”
They were harsh words, but Hades knew they were true.
“Now, would you like some tea? It will take your mind off things.”
“I think I’d rather have a clear mind, Hecate. I know what you put in your tea.”
She arched her brow. “Does all that alcohol give you a clear mind?”
“At this point,” Hades replied, “yes.”
Hades returned to his office, still on edge. His short conversation with Hecate made him want to see Persephone even more, if only to confirm that she still wanted this—them, their future—but once more, his fears overwhelmed him.
What would it take, he wondered, to feel such assurance?
He scrubbed his face and crossed the room to pour himself a drink. It was probably best that he put off seeing Persephone until he had a shower and real sleep anyway. Besides, it was likely she was at the hospital with Lexa, and he did not wish to intrude on their time together.
Just as he set out a glass, his phone rang. Hades answered without a greeting, though Ilias did not need one to offer his update.
“Persephone’s at Iniquity,” he said.
Hades was overcome with a sudden coldness that settled heavily in his stomach, but the shock quickly melted into something far more fierce. Once more, his uncertainty welled.
This was part of his life he had wanted to shield her from. It was one thing for her to know and attend Nevernight, another thing entirely for her to attend Iniquity.
“What is she doing there?”
Ilias’s hesitation assured Hades that he would not like the answer.
“She was dancing,” he replied. “But Kal has summoned her to his suite.”