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“Why isn’t she waking up?” Aphrodite’s voice washigh-pitched and desperate, her fear radiating through everyone present.
No one wanted Harmonia to die.
“I don’t know. I healed her as much as I could,” Apollo said. “The rest…is up to her.”
Once again, Hades felt Persephone turn to him.
How often would she look to him for guidance? How often would he fail her?
“Hades?”
His name fell off her tongue, an unspoken question hanging in the air between them—would she survive this?
“I do not see her lifeline ending,” he said. “The more pressing question is what you saw as you healed her, Apollo.”
He was frustrated that the god had yet to tell them what he’d seen in Harmonia’s memories, though he knew his anger was misplaced. The god was still recovering from whatever he’d witnessed.
“Nothing,” Apollo admitted, rubbing circles over his temple. Then he added in a low and defeated voice, “Nothing that will help us anyway.”
“So you couldn’t view her memories?” Hermes asked.
“Not much. They were dark and hazy, a trauma response, I think. She’s probably trying to suppress them, which means we may not have any more clarity when she wakes. Her attackers wore masks—white ones with gaping mouths.”
“But how did they manage to harm her at all?” Aphrodite asked. “Harmonia is the Goddess of Harmony. She should have been able to influence these…vagrantsand calm them.”
“They must have found a way to subdue her power,” Hermes said.
Hades swallowed something thick in his throat as they all exchanged uneasy looks.
“But how?” asked Persephone.
“Anything is possible,” Apollo replied. “Relics cause problems all the time.”
Hades was well aware of the problems they caused.
“Hades?”
Once again, Persephone called to him.
“It could be a relic or perhaps a god eager for power,” he said.
What he didn’t say was that it could be both. He thought of Poseidon, who had handed a spindle over to the mortal Sisyphus. He could have used it to manipulate the lifelines of mortals, but instead, he chose to kill them.
And now there was a chance Poseidon had given over a scythe.
“Any ideas, Hephaestus?” Hades asked.
Despite shaking his head, Hades thought the god knew otherwise.
“I would need to know more.”
“Let her rest, and when she wakes, give her ambrosia and honey,” Apollo advised as he rose to his feet.
Persephone also stood, and when Apollo stumbled, she caught his arm to steady him.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.
Her concern for him was misplaced, Hades thought—a point that was driven home when he opened his mouth again.
