She smiled. “Well, I did say it was a tangle.”
Persephone gave her a questioning look.
“It is what happens when two powerful people meet.”
“Discord?” Persephone asked.
“And passion and bliss,” Sybil was smiling completely now.
Persephone looked away. She and Hades definitely had all of those things, but were they possible to reclaim? After all she had done?
Sybil placed a hand on Persephone’s.
“You were always meant for greatness, Persephone, but getting there will be war.”
She shivered.
“Not literal war, right?”
Sybil didn’t say.
They left, walking in opposite directions, Persephone to work and Sybil to the hospital to visit Lexa. Persephone hadn’t heard from Eliska so assumed Lexa had yet to wake up. The thought made her anxious. Did that mean Apollo’s magic hadn’t worked? She pushed those thoughts aside. Apollo was an ancient god, his magic well-practiced.
Lexa is still healing. She is tired, Persephone told herself. She needs her rest.
She took a shortcut back to the Acropolis. She was getting used to avoiding the attention of jou
rnalists and rabid fans of the Divine, and that meant avoiding the main roads in favor of narrow alleyways. While they weren’t as pleasant as the well landscaped sidewalks of New Athens, she’d learned it was the easiest way to get where she needed in the least amount of time because there were fewer people, and those she did encounter didn’t seem to care that she was there. Which was probably why she noticed a snowy cat with large, green eyes following her.
She knew by its mannerisms—strangely human and attentive—that the creature was a shapeshifter. Shapeshifters didn’t use glamour to mask appearances, their biology allowed them to change forms, which meant Persephone couldn’t see what they were beneath their animal form.
Persephone continued walking for a while, pretending that she hadn’t noticed the cat wandering the allies with her. When she was sufficiently out of sight of any onlookers, she stopped. The cat seemed surprised and halted, too.
Then, as if remembering it was supposed to be a cat, the creature began to lick its paw.
Gross, Persephone thought. This stone is not clean.
“Shift,” she ordered.
If it was sent, as she suspected, by Hades, the shifter would have no choice but to expose itself. Despite this, the cat attempted to run away. Clearly, it hadn’t expected Persephone to confront it.
Mid-run, its body straightened and grew, transforming into a slender female woman. She was tall and dressed in gold armor. Her dark hair was braided and fell over her shoulder to her waist. Persephone noted several weapons attached to her body—a long sword at her hip, a set of knives crossed on her back, a dagger around her bare thigh.
She was an Aegis and an Amazon—a daughter of Ares bred for brutality and war.
She knelt on one knee, pressing a hand to her chest as she did and said, “My Lady.”
“Don’t,” Persephone’s voice was sharp, and the warrior met her gaze, standing. “Hades sent you?”
“It is an honor to serve you, my lady.”
“I didn’t ask for this,” Persephone said.
“Lord Hades worries for you. I will keep you safe.”
She really hated the way those words made hope bloom in her chest.
“I don’t need you to keep me safe. I can take care of myself. I’ve lived in the mortal world for years and trust me, if an Amazon comes to my rescue, it’ll only make things harder for me.”