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Charon snapped his fingers, and a man appeared before them on his knees, hands tied behind his back. Persephone inh
aled, surprised by the manner in which he’d been restrained. The man’s curly hair was plastered to his forehead, still dripping with river water from the Styx. He looked defeated.
“Is he dangerous?” Persephone asked.
Charon looked at Hades, and so Persephone did, too.
“You can see to his soul. Is he dangerous?” she asked again.
She could tell by the way the veins in his neck rose that he was gritting his teeth. Finally, he said, “No.”
“Then release him from those bindings.”
Hades eyes bore into hers. Finally, he turned to the man and waved his hand. When the bonds disappeared, he fell forward, hitting the floor. As he climbed to his feet, he looked at Persephone. “Thank you, my lady.”
“Why have you come to the Underworld?” Hades asked. Persephone was impressed. The mortal kept Hades’ gaze and showed no sign of fear.
“I have come for my wife,” he said. Hades did not respond, and the man continued. “I wish to propose a contract—my soul in exchange for hers.”
“I do not trade in souls, mortal,” the god answered.
“My lord, please—”
Hades held up his hand, and then the man turned his gaze to Persephone, pleading.
“Do not look upon her for aid, mortal. She cannot help you.”
Persephone took that as a challenge.
“Tell me of your wife,” Persephone said. She felt Hades gaze burn into her.
“She died a day after we were married.”
“I am sorry. How did she die?”
“She just went to sleep and never woke up.” His voice broke.
“You lost her so suddenly.” Persephone felt such sympathy for the man, who stood broken before them.
“The Fates cut her life-thread,” Hades said. “I cannot return her to the living, and I will not bargain to return souls to the living.”
Persephone’s fists curled. She wanted to argue with the god in that moment—before Minthe and Charon and this mortal. Is that not what he had done during The Great War? Bargained with the gods to bring back their heroes?
“Lord Hades, please—” Orpheus choked. “I love her.”
Something hard and cold settled in her stomach when she heard Hades laugh—a single harsh bark.
“You may have loved, mortal, but you did not come here for her. You came for yourself.” Hades reclined in his throne. “I will not grant your request. Charon.”
The daimon’s name was a command, and with a snap of his wrist, both he and Orpheus were gone. Persephone seethed. She was surprised when Hades broke the silence.
“You wish to tell me to make an exception.”
“You wish to tell me why it’s not possible,” she countered.
His lips twitched. “I cannot make an exception for one person, Persephone. Do you know how often I am petitioned to return souls from the Underworld?”
She imagined often, but still.
