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“Are you suggesting we allow it to continue?” Hestia asked.
“I’m suggesting you punish the source of the storm,” Persephone said.
“You forget. No one has been able to locate Demeter.”
“Is there no god here who is all-seeing?”
There was laughter.
“You speak of Helios,” said Artemis. “He will not help us. He will not help you, because you love Hades and Hades stole his cattle.”
He had yet to regret that choice even if it would help them now.
Persephone’s gaze did not waver from Zeus.
“Are you not King of Gods? Is Helios not here by your grace?”
“Helios is the God of the Sun,” Hera said. “His role is important—more important than a minor goddess’s obsessive love.”
“If he were so great, could he not melt the snowstorm that ravages the earth?”
“Enough!” Zeus snapped. Hades’s magic inched closer. “You have given us much to consider, goddess. We will search for Demeter—all of us. If she is in league with Triad, let her admit it and face punishment. Until that point, however, I will defer judgment on your wedding to Hades a little while longer.”
Hades’s eyes shifted to Hera, who glared back at him. In reality, Hades had no hope that this meant Zeus would allow their marriage. He had merely offered this concession to impress Persephone.
“Thank you, Lord Zeus,” she said.
Hades hated those words on her tongue.
Then Zeus stood and cast his gaze around the room.
“On this night, we will say goodbye to Tyche.”
Then he vanished.
Hera followed, but not before casting her murderous gaze on Persephone.
“See you later, Sephy!” Hermes said.
When they were alone, Hades left his throne and approached Persephone, who had already begun to explain herself.
“I’m sorry. I know you asked that I stay hidden, but I couldn’t. Not when they wished—”
He kissed her hard before pulling away.
“You were wonderful,” he said. “Truly.”
“I thought they would take me from you,” she said, quietly.
“Never,” he whispered, speaking it against her skin like an affirmation, and perhaps if he said it enough, it would come true.
Hades’s arms tightened around Persephone as soon as Hephaestus lit the pyre upon which Tyche lay. Her energy was dark, almost chaotic. He was not certain what she was thinking, but if he had to guess, she blamed herself for Tyche’s end. It was not fair, given she had no control over her mother’s actions, but that was the nature of a narcissist.
Demeter had taught Persephone that she was at fault for her mother’s poor decisions.
“Tyche’s death was not your fault,” he said. He felt the need to say it aloud.
Persephone did not speak and he knew it was because she did not believe him. In the quiet, the fire popped and sizzled, and the smell of lavender and burning flesh filled the air.
