“And your other sisters?”
I shrug as much as I’m able to. “Psyche prefers to fly under the radar. She never lets them know what she’s thinking, and sometimes it seems like all of Olympus loves her for it. She’s something of a trendsetter, but she makes it look effortless, like she can’t be bothered to try.” Though sometimes I catch an empty look in her eyes when she thinks no one is looking. She never used to have that look before Mother became Demeter.
I clear my throat. “Callisto isn’t playing a role. She really is as fierce as she seems. She hates the Thirteen, hates Olympus, hates everyone except us.” I’ve wondered time and time again why she hasn’t left. She’s the only one of us who has access to her trust fund, and instead of using it to craft an escape hatch, she’s only seemed to settle deeper into her hate.
Hades slowly winds a strand of my hair around his finger. “And you?”
“Someone has to keep the peace.” It was my role in our little family unit even before we moved up the social and political ladder in Olympus, so it felt natural to extend it. I smooth things out, make plans, and get everyone on board. It wasn’t meant to be forever. Only until I could craft my ship out of here.
I never could have anticipated that wearing the mask of the sweet, biddable daughter might be the very thing that traps me here forever.
Chapter 11
Hades
It takes more determination than I anticipate to leave Persephone’s bed after she falls asleep. It feels good to have her in my arms. Too good. It’s like waking up to find that the happy dream was real all along, and that fantasy is the one thing I can’t allow. That’s ultimately what pushes me to press a kiss to her temple and leave.
Exhaustion weighs me down, but I won’t be able to rest before I do my nightly rounds. It’s a compulsion I’ve given in to too many times, and tonight is no exception. I’m better than I used to be, though. At one point, I couldn’t close my eyes before I checked every single door and window in this house. Now, it’s only the doors and ground-floor windows, finishing with a stop in our security hub. My people never comment on me checking their work, which I appreciate. It’s less about their capabilities and more about the fear that licks at my heels when I let my guard down.
I didn’t expect Persephone’s presence in the house to make the feeling worse. I’ve promised her my protection, have given my word that she’ll be safe here. The threat of the Thirteen might be enough to deter Zeus, but if he decides it’s worth the risk to attempt an attack that might not be tracked to him…
Would he really set fire to this place knowing Persephone is inside?
I know the answer before the thought has even registered in my mind. Of course he would. Not yet, no, not when he still thinks he has a chance of retrieving her. But the recklessness of his men pursuing her over such a distance proves that if he ever decides she’s beyond his reach, he will not hesitate to strike. Better she be dead than belong to anyone else, especially me.
It’s something I need to bring up to her, but the last thing I want is to renew the fear I saw in her eyes the first night. She feels safe here, and I want to make damn sure I don’t betray the trust she’s put in me. My hesitation to give her the full rundown speaks more to me than it does to her, and I need to correct that tomorrow, no matter how little I like the idea of it.
The moment I walk into my bedroom, I know I’m not alone. I move to the gun I keep stashed in the magnetic safe tucked beneath the side table, but I only get a single step when a feminine voice emerges from the darkness. “Surprise a friend and almost get shot in the bargain. Tsk, tsk.”
Some of the tension slides out of me, exhaustion rising in its wake. I frown into the darkness. “What are you doing here, Hermes?”
She waltzes out of my closet, one of my more expensive ties wrapped around her hand, and gives me a bright grin. “I wanted to see you.”
It’s an effort not to roll my eyes. “More like you came back for the rest of my wine cellar.”
“Well, sure, and that, too.” She moves aside as I walk into my closet and shrug out of my jacket. Hermes leans against the doorframe. “You know, keeping all your windows and doors locked sends a special kind of message to your friends. It’s almost as if you don’t want company.”