Persephone’s brows drew together. “What do you mean?”
Hermes’ cocked his head to the side. “You really don’t remember?”
“I went for a walk,” she said and shrugged.
“That was some walk,” Hermes scoffed. “Hades freaked the fuck out. He couldn’t find you or sense you anywhere. I’ve never seen him so...”
“Angry?”
Hermes looked at her like she was crazy.
“No, distraught. This is the Underworld. His territory. He thought something bad had happened. He summoned every deity in the Underworld to look for you...and me.”
“I just...got lost. I wanted to clear my head. I meditated for a little while like Hecate told me to do, and when I was finished, it was dark. I couldn’t find my way back. I didn’t mean to make anyone worry. I just wanted to be alone.”
“Well, enjoy that because I don’t think Hades will let you out of his sight for the foreseeable future.”
She raised a brow. “You mean like now?”
“I’m babysitting,” he said, almost proudly and Persephone rolled his eyes.
“And why are you babysitting?”
“Because Apollo’s here.”
Persephone froze, and Hermes face drained of color as the god realized his mistake.
“What?”
“Did I say Apollo was here? I meant that he’s on his way. He’s most definitely not here. Hades is not meeting with Apollo in the throne room without you....fuck.”
Persephone was already out of bed.
“Persephone!” Hermes called as she left the room. “Sephy! Get back here! No one will take you seriously with that hair!”
She ignored him taking off toward the throne room, her feet slipping on the marble as she went. She burst inside where she found Hades and Apollo standing opposite each other. They really were quite the pair—shadow and light meeting on a marble battlefield.
Apollo was beautiful in his mortal form. He was boyish, athletic, and smaller than Hades. He had a crown of dark curls, a square jaw, and dimples that added to what might be youthful charm if he didn’t appear so angry.
Hades, on the other hand, was raw, primal masculinity. He towered over Hermes, his hair a halo of darkness. There was a maturity to Hades’ features that had nothing to do with his well-manicured beard or tailored suit—it was in his eyes—black, endless eyes that had seen lifetimes of strife.
When she entered, the two gods turned to her.
“So, the mortal has come to play,” Apollo remarked.
Hades glared over Persephone’s shoulder at Hermes who had followed her. The god held up his hands to stave off Hades’ anger.
“What? She guessed!”
Hades turned back to Apollo. “The deal is done. You will not touch her.”
“What deal?” Persephone demanded.
The two gods looked at her again, Apollo amused, Hades, angry, but she didn’t care. While she understood Hades wanted to keep her safe from Apollo, he couldn’t just exclude her from this conversation. She had started it, she had things to say, and Apollo would hear her out.
“Your lover has struck a deal,” Apollo said. The way he said lover slithered across her skin in all the wrong ways. It made her dislike it more, but maybe that was because she felt there was a certain amount of disrespect associated with it—that she was fleeting, temporary. She felt that way now with this meeting having gone on without her.
“I have agreed not to punish you for your...slanderous article...and in turn, Hades has offered me a favor…to be collected at a future time.”