“Have you fucked my wife?” The question did not match Hephaestus’ cool composure or dispassionate tone, but Hades recognized himself in the God of Fire and knew that beneath his calm exterior, he was raging inside.
“No.”
“Eleftherose ton,” Hephaestus said, turning his scarred back to Hades as he was released from the restraints, the chains returning to the black box. Hades rubbed his wrists as the full weight of Hephaestus’ question settled upon him. He had thought Hades was sleeping with Aphrodite, and he had believed it so thoroughly, he felt he needed magic to get the truth.
Hades scooped up the box and straightened, staring at Hephaestus’ back.
“Why ask me about Aphrodite?” He could not help the frustration in his voice. He knew why Hephaestus had asked—because, despite his feigned indifference, he cared about his wife and who she chose to sleep with. He loved her, and yet he chose to be miserable, chose to be passive.
“Have I not revealed enough of my shame?” Hephaestus asked.
“It is not shameful to love your wife.”
Hephaestus said nothing.
“If you feared her infidelity, why did you release her from the bonds of marriage to begin with?”
The god tensed. Clearly, he did not know what Aphrodite had shared with him. That on the eve of his marriage to the Goddess of Love, Hephaestus had released her from all obligations of that marriage.
“She was forced to marry me,” Hephaestus said, as if that explained everything. Though, it was true. Zeus had arranged their marriage to keep peace among those who wanted Aphrodite for a wife.
“You didn’t have to agree,” Hades said.
Hephaestus’ muscles rippled, and the God of the Dead knew he had angered him. Yet when he spoke, his voice was calm, void of emotion.
“Who am I to reject a gift from Zeus?”
It was a simple comment, but it spoke volumes about how Hephaestus viewed himself—unworthy of happiness, of favor, of love.
Hades sighed. In truth, it was not his place to get involved in Hephaestus and Aphrodite’s relationship. He had enough to worry about as it was with the Fates, Sisyphus, and Persephone.
“Thank you, Hephaestus,” Hades said, lifting the box. “For your time.”
He teleported from the cavernous lab, appearing in the sky over the ocean, and let himself fall through billowing clouds. Hades landed on Earth, on the island of Atlantis. The impact shook the ground and marred the marble at his feet. Around him, Poseidon’s people—mortals who called themselves Atlanteans—screamed. It took seconds for his brother to appear, bare chested and wearing a pteruges, a decorative skirt made of leather strips. Gold cuffed his forearms, his wavy and blond hair was crowned with gold spears, and two large spiral markahor horns jutted from the top of his head.
The God of the Sea looked like he was prepared for battle, which was fair. Hades only ever visited when he had a score to settle, and this time was no different.
“Brother.” Poseidon offered a curt nod.
“Poseidon,” Hades said.
There was a moment of tense silence before Hades asked, “Where is Sisyphus?”
Poseidon smirked. “Not one for pleasantries, are you, Hades?”
Hades tilted his head to the side, and as he did, a great marble statue of Poseidon cracked and split. As the pieces crashed to the ground, more of Poseidon’s cult, who had stopped to stare, ran for cover, screaming.
“Stop destroying my island!” Poseidon commanded.
“Where is Sisyphus?” Hades demanded again.
His brother’s eyes narrowed, and he chuckled. “What did he do? Tell me it was good.”
Hades’ anger was acute, and for the first time since he had asked Hephaestus for a weapon to contain Poseidon’s fury, he realized it was just as much meant for him as it was his brother. Tired of wasting time, Hades tossed the box at Poseidon’s feet. In the next second, the God of the Sea found himself ensnared in chains. For a few seconds, Poseidon blinked in shock at the metal around his wrists. He pulled at them, trying to snap them with his strength, muscles bulging, veins popping, but no matter how hard he tried, they remained.
“What the fuck, Hades?” he snarled.
“Tell me where Sisyphus is hiding!” Hades’ voice was brutal and rough.
“I don’t know where your fucking mortal is,” Poseidon spat. “Release me!”
Hades could sense Poseidon’s power rising with his rage. The sea around the island churned violently, lapping at the edges of the landmass. Hades only hoped he could get the answers he was looking for before his brother’s violence was unleashed. Poseidon would not grieve the loss of his people if it meant revenge against him.