“And if they relapsed?”
“Then what?” she asked. “Life is hard out there, Hades, and sometimes living it is penance enough. Mortals need hope, not threats of punishment.”
Silence stretched between them, and then Hades lifted his hands—another game. This time, when Hades won, he took her wrist and pulled her to him. He laid her palm flat, his fingers brushing the bandage Hecate had helped her tie.
“What happened?”
She offered a breathy laugh and said, “It’s nothing compared to bruised ribs.”
Hades face hardened, and he said nothing. After a moment, he pressed a kiss to her palm, and she felt the healing warmth of his lips seal her skin. It happened so quickly she had no time to pull away.
“Why does it bother you so much?” She wasn’t sure why she was whispering. She guessed it was because this all felt so intimate—the way they sat, facing each other on the couch, leaning so close she could kiss him.
Instead of answering, he placed a hand on the side of her face and Persephone swallowed thickly. If he kissed her now, she wouldn’t be responsible for what happened next.
Then the door to Hades’ study opened, and Minthe entered the room. She wore an electric blue dress that hugged her curves in ways that left little to the imagination. Persephone was surprised by the shock of jealousy that ricocheted through her, and she had a thought that if she were mistress of the Underworld, Minthe would always wear turtlenecks and knock before she entered any room.
The flaming-haired nymph stopped short when she saw Persephone sitting beside Hades, her anger obvious. A smile curled Persephone’s lips at the thought that Minthe might be jealous.
The god withdrew his hand from her face, and asked in an irritated voice, “Yes, Minthe?”
“My lord, Charon has requested your presence in the throne room.”
“Has he said why?”
“He has caught an intruder.”
Persephone looked confused. “An intruder? How? Would they not drown in the Styx?”
“If Charon caught an intruder it’s likely he attempted to sneak onto his ferry,” he said.
Hades stood and held out his hand. “Come, you will join me.”
Persephone took his hand—a move that Minthe watched with fire in her eyes. She twisted on her heels and left the study ahead of them. They followed her down the hall and to his throne room. It was cavernous, the ceilings high. Rounded glass windows let in muted light. Black flags bearing images of gold narcissus flanked either side of the room. Hades throne sat upon a precipice. Like him, it was sculpted and looked as if it were composed of thousands of pieces of shattered and sharp obsidian.
A man with mocha skin stood there near the precipice. He was draped in white and crowned with gold. His hair was long, and two braids hung over his shoulders, clamped with gold. His dark eyes first fell upon Hades, and then to her.
Persephone tested Hades’ grip on her hand, but the god only held her tighter, guiding her past the Ferryman and up the steps to his throne. Hades waved his hand, and a smaller throne materialized beside his own. Persephone hesitated.
“You are a goddess. You will sit in a throne,” he said, guiding her to be seated. It was only then that he released her hand. He took his place upon his throne. She thought for a moment that he might drop his glamour, but he didn’t.
“Charon, to what do I owe the interruption?” Hades asked
“You’re Charon?” Persephone asked, shocked.
He looked nothing like the drawings in her Ancient Greek textbook. He was either an old man, a skeleton, or a figure cloaked in black. This version almost resembled a god—beautiful and charming.
Charon grinned, and Hades jaw tightened.
“I am, indeed, my lady,” he said, bowing his head.
“Please call me Persephone,” she said.
“My lady will do,” Hades said sharply. “I am growing impatient, Charon.”
The ferryman bowed his head. Persephone got the sense Charon was amused by Hades’ mood. “My lord, a man named Orpheus was caught sneaking onto my ferry. He wishes for an audience with you.”
“Show him in. I am eager to return to my conversation with Lady Persephone.”