‘I’m sorry. It must be difficult to hear so much about my broken heart.’
‘That won’t be your only broken body part if you continue,’ I mumble and Hades roars with laughter.
I could drown myself in that sound. I really could.
No wonder it’s so hard to come by. Do I want to think about the horrors he has faced that he can’t even talk about? It’s enough to make me want to find Tartarus and hunt down every single Titan in the pit, just to make sure they’re suffering like they deserve.
And I wonder, too, what it must be like to be born into a war and raised to fight in it. Battle training, agoge, from childhood and forced on to how many battlefields the moment he hit adolescence? Because of what? Because he was born a man? Because Kronos chose him?
An artist raised to slaughter. I want to hurt everyone involved in that decision. I would too, I think, if I could.
Maybe I am too vengeful.
But then I look at him laughing and I don’t care. I’d do it in a heartbeat.
After breakfast I head straight to the mortals.
I make my way through the souls I have already healed. They’re just standing in a field of asphodel and I can feel the boredom aching from those nearest. I need to give them something quick. If I can just work out how – or, rather, if Hades can work out how. I’m more focused on working outwhatthey need, while he reads up on how to make it possible.
Damaris, one of the first souls I repaired, wanders over.
‘Persephone, darling, why do you look so terrible?’
Her directness startles a laugh from me. ‘That’s not a very nice thing to say. Also – Persephone?’
‘Styx shouted about it last night. I think she was drunk.’
‘So much for the secret keeper.’
‘Oh dear, is that a secret?’
‘No, but she only told you lot, right?’
‘Well, I’m not sure but she passed out on her shores shortly after so I don’t think she encountered any other gods.’
‘Okay.’ I nod.
‘I assume you were drinking with her?’ She gestures at me, like everything from my crumpled dress to my knotted hair says I was drinking last night. Which, to be fair, is not wrong. Although I’m still wearing the sheets I repurposed as gowns and they crease awfully easy, so I don’t think I nor my hangover should get all the blame for that.
I nod but, before I can say anything, Larissa comes running over calling my name. We’ve spoken enough now that I no longer think of that first encounter with her. Instead I think of the dozens of tales she’s told me – only good ones. Then again, after seeing her memories, I know most of the bad. But itworked: I healed her soul, and it helped her find her way back to the other parts of herself.
‘Persephone,’ she says. ‘Is it true Hades proposed?’
‘What?’ Damaris yelps excitedly.
I wince. I’m too hungover for this.
‘How many people did Styx tell?’ I grumble.
‘Oh just me,’ Larissa says. ‘Well, and Cora, do you remember her? The princess of Thebes?’
‘Yes, I recall.’
‘Come on,’ Damaris says. ‘You’re in no state to work right now. The afterlife can wait a day. Come sit a while and you can tell us all about it.’
It is awfully loud with all these souls. Getting away sounds nice.
Damaris reaches across me and clasps Larissa’s hand. ‘Damaris by the way. Farmer, Mycenae and dead ten years. You?’
