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“And what if I am not convinced?”
“Then let us hope by the time we find her, you are.”
CHAPTER III
HADES
Hades appeared in his chambers, darkened except for the fire, which was too bright, like the blinding fire of the Phlegethon. He almost wished it wasn’t lit, that he did not have to face more flames tonight, because the glow reminded him that the world outside this space did not wish for his happiness.
It made him want to become a recluse again, to shut out the world as he had at the start of his reign as King of the Underworld, but as he cast his gaze on Persephone, who lay sleeping in a sea of black silk, he knew that was impossible. She was too social, too loving, too invested to leave the Upperworld behind. She wanted to save the world, even the parts of it that did not deserve her kindness, and because she wanted that, he would want that too.
He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, pulling out the tie that held it away from his face. He crossed to the bar and poured himself a shot of whiskey, downingit quickly before undressing and joining Persephone in bed.
He lay on his side and watched her, not wishing to disturb her sleep despite how he ached for her. Even in the shadowed room, he would know her face because he had memorized it—the arch of her brow, the curve of her cheek, the shape of her lips. She was beautiful, and her heart was sogood. He was sure a part of him would always be in disbelief that she was his, that she had agreed to marryhimdespite everything that he had been and everything he continued to be, though there was a darker part of him that recognized engagements could end and so could marriages.
It wasn’t so much that he expected Persephone to leave as much as he expected the world to tear them apart.
Persephone sighed, and it drew Hades from his thoughts. He focused on her face and noticed her eyes moving behind her lids. She frowned then, and her breaths became harsher, her chest rising and falling faster and faster.
“Persephone?” he whispered, and she whimpered, her head pressing into her pillow, her back arching. Her arms remained over her head, fists clenched as if someone were holding her down.
Then she went rigid and whispered a name that made his blood run cold.
“Pirithous.”
Hades rose onto his elbow, fear flooding his veins. That man. That name.
Pirithous had kidnapped Persephone, encouraged to do so by Theseus after weeks of stalking her. Hades couldstill recall the entries the demigod made in a journal he’d kept at his desk, describing what Persephone wore, their interactions, and everything he wanted to do to her. It was chilling to read and added another layer of horror to the nightmare that was her abduction.
Those same feelings rose within him now, tearing open his chest.
It was a familiar feeling. He had been here with her before. Since the day Pirithous had taken her, he had haunted her sleep.
“Persephone,” Hades said and pressed his hand flat against her stomach, but at his touch, she whimpered. “Shh,” he attempted to soothe, but a sob erupted from her throat. She wrenched away and sat up, breathing heavily. He let her collect herself, fearful that touching her immediately after her nightmare would only upset her further, though he was desperate to take her into his arms, to help her feel safe, to never let her leave.
She turned her head and seemed to relax as her gaze fell on him, and he suddenly did not feel so useless. Sometimes he worried that he had done nothing right in the aftermath of her abduction and that one day he might unknowingly trigger some memory from that night, and then what would he do? How could he atone?
It felt impossible to keep her safe.
“Are you well?” he asked.
Her chest rose as she took a breath, studying him just as intently as he watched her. She was beyond anything he had ever imagined for himself—beautiful and gracious, far too good for the things he had done in his many lifetimes—and yet she remained, a steady light at his side, a beacon he could follow through the dark.
It was in these quiet moments when he felt most overwhelmed by his love for her.
“You haven’t slept.”
Her voice was a whisper that slid over his skin. It made himwant, which felt wrong.
“No,” he said and rose to sit, angling so that he could look at her face.
She was flushed, and her eyes were too bright, an indication that she had drawn on her magic as she dreamed.
Hades brushed his thumb along her cheek, and her eyes fluttered closed, as if his touch brought her a sense of comfort. The thought made his heart beat erratically. There was power in how she made him feel, and she was the only one who had ever possessed it.
“Tell me,” he said, though he knew what she would say.
“I dreamed of Pirithous again.”
