Though Hades knew Persephone would teach her.
“Yes,” Persephone answered. “Just happy to see you.”
The Amazon smiled.
They continued on, and Hades kept a firm hand on Persephone at all times, though the goddess was handling every request with grace. They stopped for a million photos, and by the time they came to the end of the media circuit and were led into a large reception hall, all Hades could see was flashing lights. The hall was less crowded, but there was a roar to the room that was somehow worse inside. Perhaps that was because the noise was contained. Still, people gathered into small groups to chat, while servers darted around carrying trays of drinks.
Hades noted that Persephone kept her gaze on the ceiling, which was, essentially, an art piece—a field of glass-blown flowers in an array of striking, bright colors. She did not get to enjoy the view long because they were approached by people who wished to make Persephone’s acquaintance. Luckily, they were people Hades liked, mostly donors, some who ran within the circles of Iniquity and some not.
“Sybil!” he heard Persephone shout, and she left his side to embrace the oracle.
Hades hung back, watching her as she spoke animatedly with the mortal. He braced himself for Hermes’s arrival, which, true to his nature, was dramatic. He appeared behind her and gathered her into a tight hug, swinging her around, coming to a stop before Apollo.
Hades looked away when he noticed the God of Music, gritting his teeth. He had yet to forgive the god for the bargain he’d struck with Persephone.
As much as Hades hated that he could not prevent what had happened to Lexa, Apollo had a role in the game too.
When dinner arrived, the nervousness Hades had felt before they left the Underworld returned, simmering in the bottom of his stomach as he tried to focus on eating. The only thing that kept him grounded was Persephone, who sat beside him, laughing and talking to everyone near. She was charming and beautiful, but the longer dinner went on, the quieter she became, and he got the sense she was thinking about Lexa.
He placed a hand on her thigh and felt an immense amount of relief as Katerina took the stage to begin the event’s program. She welcomed everyone and offered an overview of the Halcyon Project, touching on how it had begun and its purpose. Then it was Sybil’s turn, and as she took the stage, Hades moved his hand from Persephone’s leg, lacing his fingers through hers.
“I am new to the Cypress Foundation, but I fill a very special position. One that was once occupied by my friend, Lexa Sideris. Lexa was a beautiful person, a bright spirit, a light to all. She lived the values of the Halcyon Project, which is why we at the Cypress Foundation have decided to immortalize her. Introducing…the Lexa Sideris Memorial Garden.”
Behind Sybil, a screen showed pictures of Lexa and illustrated images of the garden. Persephone’s fingers squeezed his as Sybil continued.
“The Lexa Sideris Memorial Garden will be a therapy garden for residents of Halcyon and will include a magnificent glass-like sculpture at the garden’s center, representing Lexa’s soul—a bright and burning torch that kept everyone going.”
He leaned toward her and whispered against her ear, “Are you well?”
“Yes,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him with tears in her eyes. “Perfect.”
He kissed her, and when they finished dinner, they left the dining hall to dance. Hades was not ready to release Persephone just yet and drew her onto the floor, his hands pressing into her body as he held her close.
“When did you plan the garden?” she asked.
“The night Lexa died,” he admitted. He’d thought of it the moment there was a possibility she might not make it, as morbid as it seemed, but he had always liked the idea of offering people peaceful spaces to mourn and remember.
Persephone was silent.
“What are you thinking?” Hades asked, suddenly anxious that he had somehow made her sad.
But then her eyes met his and she answered, “I am thinking about how much I love you.”
Hades smiled, drew her close, and whispered in her ear, “I love you too.”
When the music shifted to something more electronic, Hades took his leave so she could spend time with her friends. He snatched a glass of whiskey from a tray as he retreated to the shadows, keeping her within sight, mistrusting of anyone but those closest to them.
He was not there long when he saw Ilias enter the ballroom, and he stiffened. The satyr was supposed to be at Nevernight, and for him to have come all this way—and in person—something had to be dreadfully wrong.
“Hades,” he said.
“Ilias,” he replied with a nod. “What is it?”
“Normally I wouldn’t give much weight to rumors, but this one you need to hear. The market’s saying the ophiotaurus has been…resurrected.”
Hades’s first reaction was shock. A sudden heaviness descended on his whole body. The ophiotaurus was a monster, part bull, part serpent. It was said that whoever slew the creature and burned its entrails would obtain the power to defeat the gods. During the Titanomachy, the creature was killed by the Titans, but before they could burn its entrails, they were captured by one of Zeus’s eagles, thwarting their plan.
If it was alive once more, it would likely be a target for Triad—for Theseus—and it was the perfect weapon to use to overthrow the gods.
And Hades knew exactly how it had come to be.
“Fucking Fates.”
He’d expected the murder of Briareus to haunt him, but not like this. He remembered their words to him.
“Do not fret, Good Counselor.”
“Your bargain with Briareus…”
“Will only ruin your life.”
Just when everything was within his grasp, he thought, the Fates did this. He wondered at their decision to resurrect the ophiotaurus. Did they want the Olympian reign to end? Had they woven a future where the demigods ruled a new era? Or were they merely entertaining themselves? He would not be surprised if it were the latter, though their fun would end in bloodshed. Everyone would look for the ophiotaurus because everyone wanted the chance to kill divinity, even gods themselves.
“Sorry to ruin your evening,” Ilias said.
Hades focused on the satyr once more. “No, thank you, Ilias. We’ll begin searching tonight.”
The satyr nodded, and as he departed, Hades slipped his hand into his pocket, clutching Persephone’s ring as he searched for her on the floor, noting that she was gone, and he went in search of her. In the face of Ilias’s news, she was even more important. He had not fought so hard to have her, to love her, only to have her taken away.
He found her on the balcony overlooking New Athens.