Persephone tried not to laugh. Hearing Hermes use mortal idioms was hilarious. She started to turn when she noticed Apollo. He must have just arrived, as she was certain she would have sensed his menacing presence before now. He felt like static in the air around her.
He wore red robes and they were secured by embellished gold leaves. She’d never seen his horns before, but tonight, they were on full display. In total, he had four, a set of two, curling on each side of his face. They almost made it look like a helm worn during battle.
She smiled at him and approached.
“Last time I checked, I was the one who was supposed to do the summoning,” he said.
“I didn’t summon you,” Persephone said. “I invited you. You didn’t have to come.”
Apollo’s jaw tensed.
“But I’m glad you did,” she added, and the god’s brows rose. “Come, I’d like you to meet someone.”
She led Apollo outside where the maypole was raised, and the dead danced. It took her a moment, but she finally found him standing with a crowd of souls. Hyacinth, the young man Apollo loved. He was well-muscled and beautiful, with a swath of golden hair. When he smiled, his teeth gleamed, when he laughed, it was like music. She knew when Apollo saw him, because Apollo stiffened beside her.
“Go to him, Apollo,” she said.
He hesitated and paled. “Does he remember…?”
“He still loves you,” she said. “And he has forgiven you.”
She was surprised when Apollo looked at her with a severe expression on his face.
“Why?” he demanded.
She blinked. “What?”
“Why would you do this for me?” he asked. “I have been so unkind to you.”
“Everyone deserves kindness, Apollo.”
Especially those who hurt others, she thought but didn’t say.
“Go,” she encouraged. “You don’t have much time and you must make the most of it.”
Still he stared at her, as if he couldn’t figure her out.
After a moment, he turned and took a deep breath, set his shoulders, and strolled toward Hyacinth. The young soul did a double take and his expression melted into shock when he spotted the God of Music approaching. He put his drink down and threw his arms around Apollo’s neck, drawing him close. When their lips met, Persephone felt a pang in her chest—a reminder of how much she missed Hades.
She shook her head and wandered from the courtyard into the gardens. She hoped to spend a few minutes alone but stumbled upon a shadowy figure, startling her.
“Thanatos,” she breathed, her heart calming. “You startled me.”
“I am sorry. That was not my intention.”
She frowned. She hadn’t seen the God of Death since she’d yelled at him in the hospital. She could feel a difference in the air between them. Once friendly, it was now tender.
“What are you doing out here?”
“Enjoying the revelry,” he answered. He wasn’t looking at her as he spoke, his eyes on the maypole ahead, illuminated by the nymphs’ light.
“Why don’t you join them?” she asked.
Thanatos’ smile was sad. “I am not made for merriment, my lady.”
She frowned. “Please call me Persephone, Thanatos.”
He bowed his head. “Right. I’m sorry.”