“There is no benefit for traumatized souls,” Hades said, and as much as the Underworld could offer healing in peace, receiving souls who had died in battle was not an easy thing to witness.
The queen said nothing, and the guard returned with Zofie. Hades turned to observe the woman. He had been right about the blisters. Her skin was bubbled, not only from where the metal pole had touched her but from where the sun had beat down on her shoulders and arms. It was likely her scalp looked the same, though it was hard to tell given her dark hair, which was long and braided. Her hands were still bound, but she no longer looked down. She met his gaze with piercing green eyes.
“Lord Hades has offered you a chance at honor,” said Hippolyta, and when the Amazon heard her speak, her eyes lowered to the ground once more. “If you are found to be inadequate at any point, he has been ordered to kill you.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Look upon me once more, Amazon,” said Hippolyta, and Zofie obeyed.
The address communicated the hope Hippolyta had that she would succeed.
“Thank you, my queen,” Zofie said.
Zofie said nothing more, and Hades could not tell what she thought. There were some who might see being in his care as a worse sentence than dying by exposure.
“Goodbye, Hades. Perhaps I will see you again,” Hippolyta said, though there was an element of dread that came with her words, given that she had spoken of war.
He nodded, and the armored Amazon returned them to the gate in silence.
Once outside it, he faced Zofie and tapped her shoulders, healing the blisters while releasing her from her bonds. Her eyes widened as her arms
fell to her sides, and as she lifted them to rub each wrist, she whispered,
“Thank you.”
“It is not for me to judge what has been viewed as an indiscretion by your people,” Hades said. “All I care about is that you protect my future queen.
Do you understand?”
Her expression shifted from surprise and gratitude to one of serious acceptance. She nodded. “Of course, my lord.”
He had to admit, he felt a little less fretful, knowing that Persephone would be actively protected, but his peace was soon disrupted by a call, which he took outside the gates of Terme.
“Yes?”
“They’re dead,” Ilias said, and Hades felt his stomach clench. “All three.
Recent too.”
*
Hades found Ilias in a cave off the side of a rocky cliff that faced Lake Tritonis. The satyr stood over three dead bodies. Each appeared to have attempted to crawl away from their attacker, with a hand outstretched and a foot curled into the dirt. It had been a long time since he had seen the three sisters, but even in death, they looked no different. Aged faces, hooked noses, and deep frowns. Their bodies were cloaked in black, their snow-white hair peeking from beneath a hood.
“They were stabbed,” said Ilias.
Hades could not see the blood for the black cloaks, but he could tell that the cloth had been sliced everywhere. The attack had been brutal and cruel.
Still, the fact that the three sisters lay dead at his feet was shocking, considering they were deities in their own right and their powers included the ability to heal wounds, though these were numerous.
The wind outside howled and whistled, a harrowing wail that seemed to mourn the deaths of the witches. Hades made a circle around them, pausing
to kneel near one—Deino, he believed. He reached out and touched one of the wounds. His fingers came away stained with red and black—blood and poison that burned.
“Hera,” Hades said quietly.
“What?”
Hades rose to his feet and smeared the mixture of blood and poison on the wall.
“They were stabbed with hydra blood–tipped blades,” Hades said. “I fought and killed the hydra days ago. I was on my way here when Hera ordered a new labor, which is why I sent you instead.”
It had been a distraction, and it had given Hera the time she needed to order the deaths of the Graeae. The question was why?
After a moment of silence, Hades nodded to Zofie, whom he had brought along, seeing no point in wasting time depositing her elsewhere.
“This is Zofie. She is Persephone’s new aegis. She needs armor and weapons. Get her settled. After that, I need you to look into Hera’s dealings with Theseus.”
He was beginning to see an end to her labors and any hold she had over his marriage to Persephone.
Chapter XXI
Divine Retribution
Night had come, and Hades was in search of Dionysus. He’d first gone to Bakkheia, only to be stopped at the doors and informed that the God of the Vine was not there. When Hades had asked where the god might be, he received no answer.
There were few places he might be, or at least to Hades’s knowledge, but one of them included the Theater of Dionysus, which had been erected to honor and worship him. It was there Hades ventured, to the horseshoe-shaped theater that was located downtown near the Acropolis where Persephone worked.
On this night, a comedy called Lysistrata was being performed. The play’s title character decides to end the Peloponnesian War by encouraging her fellow Athenian women to abstain from sex with their husbands, a tactic that eventually succeeds. Onstage, the actors and chorus wore grotesque masks with an array of expressions, and despite some that were to appear serene and content, they were all somehow horrifying with wide, gaping mouths and hollow eyes. Some wore wreaths on their heads wrapped with ivy and berries. Peals of laughter broke out during song and dance and spoken word, though Hades did not hear the performance, his gaze focused on the crowd.
He found Dionysus sitting at the very front of the orchestra. The seats to his left and right were empty, likely a request he’d made so that he could sit
alone.
Hades approached and took a seat beside him. Dionysus kept his gaze on the performance as he spoke. “Have you come to tell me the Graeae are dead?”
“I assumed you would know by now,” Hades said. “Seems I was right.”
Dionysus did not offer any information on how he had found out, but Hades guessed that one of his maenads had spied Ilias handling the situation and communicated their discoveries.
There was silence between them, though all around, the performance continued and the crowd reacted, laughing and cheering.
“I don’t understand,” Dionysus said at last.
“Don’t you?” Hades countered.
It was the first time the God of the Vine looked at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“The Graeae were just as much a weapon as the secrets they kept,” Hades said. “It’s clear whoever killed them preferred to sacrifice their use rather than allow the power to fall into our hands.”
“You keep saying ‘our,’” Dionysus pointed out. “We are not on the same side.”
“Then what side are you on?”
Hades never thought he’d feel any kind of way about Dionysus’s allies until now, and he had to admit, he hoped that he’d align with him.
Though, he did not know what it meant to take sides yet. All he knew was that someone—potentially Hera and Theseus—was learning to kill the divine. The divide was complicated. Aligning against them seemed to mean siding with Zeus, which was not something Hades particularly wanted.
“I am on my own side,” Dionysus said.
As much as Hades respected that, this was not a situation where being neutral would work.
“You realize the death of the Graeae means more than the loss of Medusa,” Hades said. “It means that someone has found a way to kill us.”
“Then it sounds like I need to be on their side,” Dionysus said.
Hades’s lips flattened. “Is that your plan?” he asked, then tilted his head.
“I wouldn’t have thought you’d be the first to kneel.”
Dionysus’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t about submission, Hades. It’s about lying low until the opportune moment.”
“And what moment is that, Dionysus? When everyone stronger than you is dead?”
“You’re not very strong if you’re dead.”
They were quiet for a few moments before Hades said, “I’ve never really liked you.”