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“Do you think Aphrodite is…opposed to Harmonia’s choice of partner?”
“Do you mean is she opposed because Sybil is a woman? No. Aphrodite believes love is love. If Aphrodite is upset, it is because Harmonia’s relationship means she has less time for her.”
She was quiet for a moment, and he noticed that her gaze wandered back to the goddess.
“Do you think Aphrodite and Hephaestus will ever reconcile?”
“We can all only hope. They are both completely unbearable.”
Persephone elbowed him, but Hades felt like he had been dealing with the saga of their marriage since its inception. He wasn’t at all sure what exactly went wrong, but whatever had occurred had happened the night of their wedding, and neither of them had ever been the same.
Dinner finally appeared once Zeus decided to join them. It was usual of the god to make them wait; he liked to remind everyone of his importance anytime he had the opportunity.
Hades reached for a silver pitcher on the table.
“Ambrosia?” he offered.
“Straight?” Persephone asked, sounding surprised.
“Just a little,” he said as he poured her a small amountand then filled his glass. Like any alcohol, it required developing a certain level of tolerance—his was high. “What?” he asked, noticing Persephone’s stare.
“You are an alcoholic,” she said.
She wasn’t technically wrong, but it wasn’t as if alcohol had any effect on him.
“Functioning,” he replied, watching as Persephone took a sip from her glass, as she licked her lips. “Do you like it?” He leaned closer, thinking about kissing her so he could taste it on her tongue, but he didn’t.
She met his gaze, and her answer came out on a breath. “Yes.”
Callista cleared her throat. The interruption irritated him, and Hades would have ignored it, but Persephone was far more courteous than him.
“So how did you two meet?”
A snort drew Hades’s attention, and he looked to see Hermes approaching with his plate and silverware. “You sit before gods and that is the question you choose to ask?” Hermes said.
“Hermes, what are you doing?” Persephone asked.
“I missed you,” he said as he sat beside her.
More movement from the Olympian table caught Hades’s attention as he watched Apollo leave to sit by a man he could only assume was Ajax—the one he’d agonized over when he’d come to inquire about Adonis’s autopsy. Artemis looked both confused and irritated, her mouth set tight, while Zeus glowered. Neither of them liked watching Olympians abandoning their places above the crowd.
“I think you started a movement, Hades,” said Persephone.
He met her gaze, smiling at her expression, which seemed to be a mix of amusement and soft admiration.
“I have a question,” Thales said, interrupting, and Hades cast his gaze on the minor god. “How will I die?”
“Horribly,” Hades replied without pause. He would not normally be so direct, but the response felt deserved given the question.
“Hades!” Persephone scolded.
He felt her elbow nudge him again. This time, he caught it and slid his hand down her arm, threading his fingers with hers.
“Is–is that true?” Thales stuttered.
“He is just kidding,” Persephone assured Thales, giving Hades a pointed look. “Aren’tyou, Hades?”
“No,” he said.
