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Kore laughs, “You’re right, maybe you can make me a masterpiece later.”
“Whenever you’d like,” Hades says. She holds out her arm. Kore clasps the place above her elbow with a gentle hand as he helps ease Hades up from her reclining position.
While Hades tries to cover herself—her dress is tattered cotton—Minthe enters the room. Kore narrows his gaze at the other man; noting, for the first time, the black, crystalline scale-pattern that curves across Minthe’s forehead and stops at the sharp cut of his cheeks. He’s handsome, and too familiar; so it seems when Minthe doesn’t divert his gaze from the queen’s nudity.
“My queen,” he says with a slight tip of his dark head. “A messenger has come.”
Hades releases a sigh, casting a bemused glance up at Kore. “It was nice while it lasted.”
“What?” Kore asks, confusion furrowing his brows.
“Peace, my daffodil. Peace.”
21
Hades
Hermes stands in the throne room with a bored expression lighting his impish face. Hades will be forever grateful that he did not step forward to claim her at Zeus' horrendous ball. She’d have killed the mischievous god before they left Olympus. Though she contemplates reducing him to a shell of himself—the onlydeathan immortal can know—when Hermes approaches her with a brazen grin.
Not an ounce of respect in this one.
“Hades,” he says, addressing her informally despite the small audience of her court. Hecate bares her teeth behind Hermes' back, but does nothing more. Hades stays Hecate with a subtle gesture of her hand.
“What foul oaf sent you here, while I’m enjoying newly wedded bliss?” she replies, crossing her arms across her chest. The dress she changed into—provided by Minthe when he came to collect her from the records room—radiates royalty. It is a gown befitting a queen, and Hades hates the way the fabric itches her skin.
“Are you calling your brother foul?” Hermes grins, a challenge lighting his dark eyes.
“Both of them are equally foul, so yes.” Hades doesn’t give a damn what Zeus will do when he hears of herdisloyalty.She’s placated her youngest brother enough for a few centuries.
Hermes' smile grows wider, more amused, and his gaze slides to her right. Kore stands even with Hades, at her side as an equal. Kore reaches for her hand, and she watches Hermes study them as they link their fingers. Hades is a being older than both young gods—she’s watched gods rise and fall for millennia. Hades doesn’t need the powers of the Fates to know Hermes will use her bond with Kore to his advantage. She watched him grow from infancy; he’s a devious god. If she had to choose the face of a plague, Hades would choose him every time.
“Get to the purpose of your visit, Hermes,” Hades commands, her voice callous as she straightens her spine. “I have real work to do. My day cannot revolve around the whims of a childish king.”
Her words land with precision. Hades can tell she’s irked Hermes by the way his mouth thins and his nostril twitches—he hasn’t lived long enough to learn to temper his rage. If he’s like Zeus, Hermes will never learn.
“Zeus orders you and your consort to join Olympus as we watch the Eleusinian Mysteries.”
That damnable cult that worships Demeter and her nonexistent daughter; they painted Hades as a dark god hellbent on raping a maiden. The Mysteries have existed for centuries, but the modern-day followers aren’t the same as the secret society that cried out for Persephone as they marched up The Sacred Way. Now,believersand members of the Mysteries get together twice a year to lose their heads on hallucinogenics while participating in orgies. Then and now, Hades loathes the rites performed for the Eleusinian Mysteries. She doesn’t attend the parties due to her pride, and Zeus knows better than to ask her to participate.
This is intentional.
“What will my baby brother do if I sayno?” Hades asks, dropping Kore’s hand as she steps closer to where Hermes stands. “Is he going to come here with his army and drag me out of my kingdom?”
Hermes' gaze moves from Hades to Kore, his frown curling down the corners of his thin mouth. “It’s not what Zeus will do to you, Hades,” Hermes says, his intention clear.
Hades' eyes narrow on the messenger; fury bubbles within her chest. “If you touch a single hair on his head, Hermes,” Hades begins. “I will fillet your flesh from your bones, drain the ichor from your veins, and serve you up to the darkest parts of Tartarus. You will be the plaything of primordial beings. A punching bag to Titans,” Hades promises. “Go ahead, boy. Do as your master commands. I dare you.”
Hermes stays rooted to his spot, consideration on his face as he watches Kore.
“Come to Olympus, Hades,” he says, at length, after visibly weighing the consequences. “See what Zeus wants from you now.”
Kore’s hand wraps around her wrist, caring and comforting as he gives her a gentle squeeze.
“Fine,” Hades says, dismissing Hermes with a wave of her arm. “Leave, while I’m being generous.”
He goes in a flurry of violet feathers, leaving behind a mess in his wake. Hades scowls while Hecate screeches.
“That horrid boy has no fucking manners.” Hecate emphasizes her words with a stomp of her booted foot.
