“Your words ring eerily threatening, Kal,” Hades said.
“Not at all,” the man said. “I’m merely pointing out the consequences of your actions.”
Hades was not certain what the mortal meant by actions. Was it that he had let Persephone write the articles? Or was he referring to their public reunion outside the Coffee House, when she had run and jumped into his arms, both heedless to onlookers who had photographed and filmed the entire thing?
“I can help ensure your privacy.”
“For a price, you mean?”
“A small one,” Kal said. “Only a share in the ownership of Iniquity.”
Kal’s voice was drowned out by a loud bell, followed by the clang of the gates opening and the thundering of hooves as all twenty steeds sped down the track. The announcer’s voice rose over the roaring crowd, narrating with a lyrical inflection.
“Kosmos has an early lead as expected, then it’s Titan…”
He rattled off more names—Layland has the rail, Maximus on the outside.
Throughout, Kosmos maintained the lead, with Titan only a length behind.
The continued reporting from the announcer made Hades’s chest tighten and his teeth grind together, exacerbated by the crowd’s cheering, but then there was a shift in the race. Titan seemed to gain a better foothold and practically sailed past Kosmos across the finish line.
The announcer’s voice rose with excitement as he announced the winner.
“Titan, the dark horse and Divine superstar, wins the Hellene Cup!
Kosmos is second!”
In a matter of minutes, the race was over, and Hades turned from the rail to make his escape when a hand landed on his arm.
“Our bargain, Hades,” Kal said.
The god turned quickly, catching Kal’s wrist within his grip and shoving him away.
“Fuck off, Kal.”
He offered nothing else before he vanished.
*
Hades manifested at the Nevernight bar.
The club was pristine, the floor empty, though he knew his employees lurked, navigating within the shadows of the club to prepare for opening tonight—an event that never saw peace. Inevitably, someone always assumed their status would grant them access and, depending on their sense of entitlement, always led to a very public tantrum that Mekonnen—or, in very serious cases, Ilias—would have to handle.
Mortals and immortals alike never ceased to illustrate the faults of humanity. There were moments when Hades wondered if he had done right to create such a paradise in the Underworld. Perhaps it was best when they feared the afterlife—feared him, even. Then people like Kal would never dare approach with such imperious requests.
Another wave of frustration ricocheted through him at the man’s audacity.
Worse, Kal’s offer brought up another concern—Persephone’s safety.
Hades had an unlimited number of enemies. He hated to regret anything about their reunion, but he should have been more careful. He could have draped them in glamour, teleported, anything to prevent the public from having access to their lives and leave her exposed.
But the damage had already been done, and the world was watching.
Was Persephone prepared? It was one thing to be favored, another to be the chosen lover of a god. She did not wish to be known for her divinity.
Would she tire of being known as his lover?
He took a bottle of whiskey from the backlit wall and drank it straight. As he did, he sensed he was not alone and turned to find Hera, Goddess of Marriage and his begrudging sister-in-law. She stood at the center of the floor, impeccably dressed in white, her face angled, proud.
Only slightly less severe than Demeter’s, he thought.
“A little early for a drink,” she said, her voice tinged with disgust, though he knew she had come to make requests. She never bothered to approach him otherwise.
“A little early for your judgment,” Hades replied, returning his attention to the bottle, effectively dismissing Hera, who stood quiet for a moment before taking a breath and moving a step closer to the bar.
Hades braced himself for whatever came next.
He knew he would not like it.
“Before I begin, I hope my visit to you remains anonymous.”
Hades raised a brow. “That depends on what you have come to say.”
He took another drink, just to drive the point home.
Hera’s features turned stony.
Hades did not dislike the goddess, but he also did not like her. For him, she was neutral territory. Her vengeful nature was often spurred by Zeus, his infidelity the crux of many of her outbursts. In most instances, Hades had a hard time blaming her for her outrage. After all, Zeus and Hera’s marriage was built on deceit, but her cruelness was misplaced, always directed toward those who were often victims of Zeus themselves.
Hera lifted her chin, glaring.
“You are well aware of Zeus’s exploits,” she said. “The havoc he wreaks upon the human race.”
She was not wrong, and though no god was particularly innocent, Zeus was probably the hardest on humanity.
“I’m well aware of yours as well,” Hades replied.
Hera’s mouth hardened and her voice shook as she spoke. “I have reason.
You know I do.”
“Call it what it is, Hera—revenge.”
Her fist clenched at her side. “As if you haven’t sought revenge.”
“I was not passing judgment,” he said and, after a moment, prompted,
“Why have you come?”
She stared at him, and Hades remembered that he did not like Hera’s eyes.
It was easy to forget as she was often with Zeus, and when he was by her side, she presented herself as being uninterested and almost aloof, but being the center of her attention meant feeling the stab of her gaze.
“I have come to obtain your allegiance,” she said. “I wish to overthrow Zeus.”
He was not so surprised by her statement. This was not the first time Hera had attempted to dethrone Zeus. In fact, she had tried it twice and had managed to enlist the help of other gods—Apollo, Poseidon, and even Athena, and of the three, only one had managed to escape Zeus’s wrath once he was free.
“No.”
His answer was automatic, but he did not have to think long about this decision. Hades disliked Zeus’s tyranny just as much as the next god, but he knew Hera’s intentions, and he’d rather his erratic brother have the throne than her.
“You would decline, knowing his crimes?”
“Hera—”
“Don’t defend him,” she snapped.
He had not intended to defend Zeus, but the reality was, Zeus was only king because they had drawn lots. He had no greater power than either Hades or Poseidon.
“You’ve tried this before and failed. What makes you think this time will be any different?” Hades asked because he was truly curious. Had Hera come into possession of some kind of weapon or alliance she believed would change the course of fate?
Instead of answering, she said, “So you are afraid.”
Hades gritted his teeth. Zeus was the last person in the cosmos Hades feared. He was merely cautious. There was a difference.
“You want my help?” Hades asked. “Then answer the question.”
A bitter smile spread across her face. “You seem to think you have a choice, yet I hold your future in my hands.”
Hades narrowed his eyes. He did not need to ask what she meant. Hera also had the ability to bless and curse marriages. If she wanted to, she could ensure that he never married Persephone.
“Perhaps I will find reason to side with Demeter. I am the Goddess of Women, you know.”
While many had known that Demeter had a daughter, she had kept her identity a secret, which meant that few gods knew of Persephone’s divinity.
The most recent exception was Zeus—and, by default, Hera—when Demeter had gone to him to demand the return of her daughter. Zeus, however, was not interested in opposing the Fates and had refused.
“If you wish to embody that role, then you’d do well to listen to Persephone herself and not her conniving mother. Do not fuck with me, Hera. It will not end well.”
She offered a bark of laughter, her chin dipping so that she glared back at him. “Is that your answer?”