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“Can’t you use your magic to tailor this? It would be easier.”
“Easier, yes,” she said. “But this project is special to me, and I prefer to hand stitch.”
Hades swallowed hard. As much as he joked, he was very grateful for Hecate.
“There,” she said, rising to her feet and stepping back to observe her work.
“It’s perfect, Hecate,” Hades said as he stared in the mirror. “I don’t know how I could ever thank you enough.”
“You can thank me by actually getting married,” she said. “I have written a speech.”
“You know it isn’t a matter of wanting.”
“You’re going to do whatever you want,” she said. “You always have, no matter the consequences. The important part is that Persephone will need your magic for what is to come.”
That was the real reason Zeus wanted a say in their marriage and why he would consult the oracle about their marriage. What would come from the union of life and death? They were the beginning and the end, the dawn and the night. They were never-ending, and their magic would be too.
“What is to come, Hecate?” Hades asked, arching a brow.
She was the triple goddess, able to view the past, present, and future, but even with that great power, Hades never inquired. He just trusted that Hecate would guide him, and she did, but now that she had acknowledged the threat and the unknown, he had to ask.
“You know what is coming,” she said and met his gaze. “You feel it in your bones. It is why, as much as you wish to fight for Persephone, you keep pushing her away.”
He considered her words.
It was true there was a part of him that he was trying to keep buried—a part of him that felt too deeply.
“It will not serve you to be cold in this war, Hades,” she said. “This is a battle best waged with passion.”
The goddess stared a moment longer and then dropped her gaze to his suit.
“I like it…but it’s missing something—a boutonniere on the breast. What flower, Hades?”
She stepped aside so he could look in the mirror, but he didn’t need to. He knew which to choose, and he touched the pocket, where a red, star-shaped polyanthus unfurled. It was the flower he’d worn when he first met Persephone, the one she’d let wither beneath her touch.
“Perfect,” said Hecate.
After Hecate’s interruption, Hades finished a few more mundane tasks before heading into the gardens. He wandered until he came to the Asphodel Fields where he was met by Cerberus, Typhon, and Orthrus. The three had been busy, given so many souls had made their entrance to the Underworld, and they seemed to vibrate with pent-up energy.
“Eager to play, boys?” he asked.
Hades did not order Cerberus to drop his red ball, and when he went to reach for it, the Doberman dug his teeth in and yanked against Hades’s grasp. Since he was locked in a game of tug-of-war with one, Typhon and Orthrus began to grow restless, barking at them as they fought over the ball.
Hades waited until Cerberus had put enough tension on the ball and let go. Unprepared, Cerberus dropped the ball. Typhon and Orthrus pounced, but as they did, they kicked the ball away, and it rolled to Hades’s feet.
The three charged, ramming into him. He stumbledback and fell into the grass, and still none of them had managed to obtain the ball.
“Sit!” Hades commanded, and the three instantly listened.
He got to his feet and picked up the ball, their eyes following his every move, muscles tensing as they prepared to launch themselves across the Underworld for the sake of this red toy. He didn’t blame them—it was their one reprieve from their duties.
“Stay,” he said and tossed the ball, which went soaring through the sky and disappeared somewhere in Persephone’s meadow.
None of them moved, except Orthrus, who had the least control over his excitement when it was time to play.
“Go—”
The word was barely out of his mouth before the three bolted for the grove. Hades chuckled, watching them practically fly through the grass, leaving a flattened trail as they went. Sometimes it was hard to remember that these three were in fact scary monsters.
