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Hades felt panic claw up his throat, and his heart wasn’t beating right.
When she met his gaze, she opened her mouth and blood poured from it. She seemed surprised and a little confused. Then she swayed and Hades caught her, gathered her into his arms, and took her away.
Hades’s hands shook.
They had never shaken before this moment. Perhaps this was the shock of everything settling deep into his bones now that he had gotten Persephone to safety. She lay in bed across the room, motionless but breathing. Though he had managed to heal her, he wasn’t sure he could look at her without seeing her the other way—bloodied, broken,dying.
A shadow fell over him, and he recognized Hecate’s magic. The goddess folded a towel around each of his hands, cleaning away the blood, though it was long dried. She was saying something, but he could not make out the words because the ringing in his ears was too loud.
The goddess knelt in front of him, a blur of color. He frowned, brows furrowed, unable to focus on any part of her.
Then he felt her hands on either side of his face and a rush of her magic.
“Hades?”
His eyes roamed her face until he was able to focus on her gaze.
“Hecate?” he said, and she offered him a small smile.
“I’m here.”
He stared at her a moment longer, and then his attention turned to Persephone.
“She is well, Hades.”
He knew she meant to comfort him, but her words only brought anger and guilt. He should never have allowed her to go to Club Aphrodisia. He should never have entrusted her care to anyone save himself.
“You would have only encouraged resentment,” Hecate said, reading his thoughts.
“I’d rather she resent me every day of our life if it meant never having to see her like that again.”
“Careful of your words, Hades. Resentment is just as fatal a wound.”
Hades ground his teeth. “Is it any more fatal than what I see when I look at her?”
“Magic can heal a wound to the flesh,” she said. “But it cannot heal a wound to the soul.”
“You do not have to remind me. I’ve had enough blows of my own.”
“Then you should never want the same for Persephone.”
Perhaps he would feel differently in a day or two, but right now he was tempted to never let her leave this island.
“What you should want is for her to learn to control her power,” Hecate said, rising to her feet. “She would have been fine had she channeled it correctly.”
“Is that not your job?” Hades asked curtly.
Hecate narrowed her eyes. “Careful, God of the Dead. I have little patience for your hubris.”
Hades let his head fall into his hands, and he scrubbed his face.
“I’m sorry, Hecate.”
She placed a hand on his head. “I know.”
They were silent, and then Hades sensed Hermes’s magic.
Anger coiled inside him, tightening his muscles, curling his fingers into fists. Shadows darkened the room as his hold on his glamour slipped, and when Hecate stepped out of his way, he met Hermes’s gaze.
