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Theseus offered a small smile.“Before we continue, I do believe you have something of mine.”
Hades raised a brow at his choice of words but said nothing, summoning the magi with his magic. He appeared and instantly fell to the ground with a loud thud. He groaned, dragging himself to his hands and knees, then looked up and began to whimper.
“H-High lord,” his voice quivered.
Theseus looked at one of his men, who took out a gun and shot the mortal. He fell, and his blood pooled on the floor of Nevernight. Hades suddenly understood Theseus’use for the bodyguards; they were here to do his dirty work. The god knew these types of men well—theno blood on their handstype. He had come to think that they believed if they did not pull the trigger or wield the knife, he could not trace their sins.
They were wrong.
Hades maintained his passive expression, but internally, he grimaced. The mortal’s death was not necessary, nor was it warranted. He had given Hades no information on Triad, which was the reason Hades had detained him.
“Interesting. You did not intervene,” Theseus said.
“Were you experimenting?” he asked, raising a brow.
He shrugged.“Just trying to figure out what you are about, Lord Hades.”
He just stared. Perhaps Theseus thought to challenge him as Triad challenged the gods, but Hades would not bite. If Theseus and his men wanted to add to their list of sins and carve their place in Tartarus, who was he to stop them?
“Two of one, Theseus,” Hades reminded, his patience wearing thin.
It was the first time Hades saw the spark of Poseidon’s resentment in Theseus’eyes. He understood the mortal had come to play, had come to show the God of the Dead that he had power. But Hades was power, and he was not in the mood to entertain this man who played at being a god, even if he was semi-Divine.
Theseus nodded to one of his men, who spoke into a mic. After a moment, a third man joined them, dragging Sisyphus, and dropped him in the space between them. His mouth was taped shut, his wrists and legs bound. He looked like Hades remembered, but older—the result of using magic that did not belong to him.
Despite the gag around his mouth, Sisyphus managed a muffled scream.
“Silence,” Hades said, and stole the man’s voice. His eyes widened when he could no longer make sound, and he kicked and flopped on the floor, like a fish out of water.
Once there was silence, Hades lifted his gaze to Theseus. Something wasn’t right about this.
“What is it you want?” Hades asked.
He was not ignorant. He could see Theseus was eager for power and hungry for control. His soul was an iron tower, strong and unshakable. It was why he had kidnapped Sisyphus—he desired something from him. Hades understood that now.
“For returning the spindle, I would like a favor.” He paused, then added,“For Sisyphus, I ask for nothing.”
“How generous.”
He smirked, but the amusement did not touch his eyes.“How kind of you to say.”
Hades considered Theseus’request. He did not feel comfortable offering him a favor, as it was an open-ended request, something Hades would be obligated to fulfill due to the binding nature of favors and immortal blood.
Yet a favor was no unfitting request for what the immortal had returned to him. He had essentially ensured his future with Persephone.
Still, Hades found that he had questions.
His eyes narrowed as he stated,“You are Divine, and yet I hear you lead Triad.”
“Are you asking a question, my lord?”
“I am merely trying to suss out what you stand for.”
That smile returned, and Hades knew why he disliked it so much. It was a smile that belonged to his brother.
“Freewill, freedom—”
“Not Triad,” Hades said, cutting him off.“You. What doyoustand for?”
