Hades swallowed. He could feel the man’s pain, and yet there was still guilt weighing heavily upon his soul. What had he done to his wife? Why did he feel such guilt at her passing?
“You lost her so suddenly.” Persephone sounded so sad, so forlorn for the man.
“The Fates cut her life-thread,” Hades interjected. “I cannot return her to the living, and I will not bargain to return souls.”
He noted the curl of Persephone’s delicate fingers into a fist. Would she attempt to strike him? The thought amused him.
“Lord Hades, please—” Orpheus choked. “I love her.”
His eyes narrowed, and he laughed. He loved her, yes, he could sense that, but the guilt told him the mortal was hiding something.
“You may have loved her, mortal, but you did not come here for her. You came for yourself. I will not grant your request. Charon.”
Hades leaned back in his throne as Charon obeyed his command, vanishing with Orpheus. He would return the man to the Upperworld where he belonged, where he would mourn like other mortals for his loss.
In the silence, Persephone seethed. He felt her anger, billowing. After a moment, he spoke.
“You wish to tell me to make an exception.”
“You wish to tell me why it’s not possible,” she snapped, and Hades’ lips twitched.
“I cannot make an exception for one person, Persephone. Do you know how often I am petitioned to return souls from the Underworld?”
Constantly.
“You barely offered him a voice. They were only married for a day, Hades.”
“Tragic,” he said, and it was, but Orpheus was not the only one with this kind of story. He could not spend time feeling for every mortal whose life did not turn out the way they expected.
“Are you so heartless?”
The question frustrated him. “They are not the first to have a sad love story, Persephone, nor will they be the last, I imagine.”
“You’ve brought back mortals for less.”
Her statement took him aback. To what did she refer?
“Love is a selfish reason to bring the dead back,” he replied. She had not yet learned that the dead were truly favored.
“And war isn’t?”
Hades felt his gaze turn dark. The anger her words inspired burned through him. “You speak of what you do not know, goddess.”
The bargains he had struck to return wartime heroes weighed heavily upon him, but the decision was not made lightly, and he had not been swayed by gods or goddesses. He had peered into the future and saw what lay ahead if he did not agree. The sacrifice was the same—a soul for a soul—burdens he would carry forever. Burdens that were etched into his skin.
“Tell me how you picked sides, Hades,” she said.
“I didn’t,” he gritted out.
“Just like you didn’t offer Orpheus another option. Would it have been relinquishing your control to offer him even a glimpse of his wife, safe and happy in the Underworld?”
He had not thought of that, and he did not have long to think on it in the moment, either, because Minthe spoke.
He had forgotten the nymph was still in the room.
“How dare you speak to Lord Hades—”
“Enough!” Hades cut her off and stood. Persephone followed. “We are done here.”
“Shall I show Persephone out?” Minthe asked.
“You may call her Lady Persephone,” he snapped. “And no. We are not finished.”
He registered her shock for only a moment before turning to face Persephone. She wasn’t looking at him, but watching Minthe leave. He drew her attention, his fingers touching her chin.
“It seems you have a lot of opinions on how I manage my realm.”
“You showed him no compassion,” she said, and her voice trembled.
Compassion? Did she not remember their time in the garden? When he had showed her the truth of the Underworld? Was it not compassionate to use his magic so that his souls may live a more peaceful existence?
“Worse, you mocked the love he had for his wife.”
“I questioned his love. I did not mock it.”
“Who are you to question love?”
“A god, Persephone.”
That man’s guilt was not for nothing.
Her eyes narrowed. “All of your power, and you do nothing with it but hurt.”
Hades flinched. He could not help it; her words were like knives.
“How can you be so passionate and not believe in love?”
He laughed bitterly and said, “Because passion doesn’t need love, darling.”