Desperate to grab on to any distraction, I focus on the man at my feet. “The last Hades died. You’re supposed to be a myth, but Hermes and Dionysus know you.” They were at the party I fled—my…engagement party—but I don’t really know them any better than the rest of the Thirteen. Which is to say I don’t know them at all.
“Is there a question in there?” He pulls out another sliver of glass and drops it into the bowl with a clink.
“Why are you supposed to be a myth? It doesn’t make any sense. You’re one of the Thirteen. You should be…”
“I’m a myth. You’re dreaming,” he says drily as he prods my foot. “Any sharp pain?”
I blink. “No. It just aches.”
He nods, as if that’s exactly what he expected. I watch numbly as he lays out a series of bandages and proceeds to wash and bandage my feet. I don’t… Maybe he’s right and I really am dreaming, because this doesn’t make the slightest bit of sense. “You’re friends with Hermes and Dionysus.”
“I’m not friends with anyone. They just show up periodically like stray cats I can’t get rid of.” No matter his words, there’s a thread of fondness in his tone.
“You’re friends with two of the Thirteen.” Because he was one of the Thirteen. Just like my mother. Just like Zeus. Oh gods, Psyche is right and Hades is just as bad as the rest of them.
The events of the night crash over me. Flashes of scene after scene. The sculpture room. My mother’s caginess. Zeus’s hand trapping mine as he announced our engagement. The terror-stricken run alongside the river. “They ambushed me,” I whisper.
At that, Hades looks up, a frown pulling his strong brows together. “Hermes and Dionysus?”
“My mother and Zeus.” I don’t know why I’m telling him this, but I can’t seem to stop. I clutch the blanket more firmly around my shoulders and shiver. “I didn’t know the party tonight was announcing our engagement. I didn’t agree to our engagement.”
I’m exhausted enough I can almost pretend I get a flash of sympathy before irritation writes itself across his features. “Look at you. Of course Zeus wants to add you to his long list of Heras.”
He would think that. The Thirteen see something they want, and they take it. “It’s my fault that they made that decision without even talking to me because of what I look like?” Is it possible for the top of a person’s head to literally explode? I have a feeling I might find out if we continue this conversation.
“It’s Olympus. You play power games, you pay the consequences.” He finishes wrapping my second foot and pushes slowly to his feet. “Sometimes you pay the consequences even if it’s your parents playing the games. You can cry and sob about how unfair the world is, or you can do something about it.”
“I did do something about it.”
He snorts. “You ran like a frightened deer and thought he wouldn’t chase you down? Sweetheart, that’s practically foreplay for Zeus. He’ll find you and drag you back to that palace of his. You’ll marry him just like the obedient daughter you are, and within a year, you’ll be popping out his asshole children.”
I slap him.
I don’t mean to. I don’t think I’ve ever raised my hand to a person in my entire life. Not even my irritating younger sisters when we were children. I stare in horror at the red mark blooming on his cheekbone. I should apologize. Should…something. But when I open my mouth, that’s not what comes out. “I’ll die first.”
Hades looks at me a long time. I’m usually pretty good at reading people, but I have no idea what’s going on behind those deep, dark eyes of his. Finally, he grinds out, “You’ll stay here tonight. We’ll talk in the morning.”
“But—”
He picks me up again, scooping me into his arms like I’m the princess he named me, and gives me such a cold look, I swallow my protest. I have nowhere to go tonight, no purse, no money, no phone. I can’t afford to look this gift horse in the mouth, even if he’s growly and goes by the name parents have threatened their children with for generations. Well, maybe not this Hades. He looks like he’s somewhere in his early to midthirties. But the role of Hades. Always in the shadows. Always catering to dark deeds best done out of the sight of our normal, safe world.
Is it really that safe? My mother just effectively sold me in marriage to Zeus. A man who empirical facts paint not as the golden king, beloved by all, but as a bully who’s left a string of dead wives in his wake. And those are just his wives. Who knows how many women he’s victimized over the years? Thinking about it is enough to make me sick to my stomach. No matter which way you spin it, Zeus is dangerous and that’s a fact.