Hades watched the goddess stare up at her daughter with no hint of affection in her face, and his heart twisted painfully. He knew he would never fully understand what it meant to live beneath the reign of such a mother—one who could turn her love on and off at will—but he imagined it had left Persephone feeling very unworthy, and it was likely why she had so much doubt when it came to their relationship.
Sometimes he forgot the baggage she carried, forgot that her need for reassurance did not necessarily mean she had doubts, only that she needed comfort, and this was why.
It made him resent Demeter even more.
“Look upon me once more, Mother, because you will never see me again.”
Demeter’s expression changed, and a faint smile curled her lips. Hades did not like it, and he did not like what she said next.
“My flower. You are more like me than you realize.”
Hades watched Persephone closely, and at her mother’s words, he noted how her back stiffened and her fingers curled. As much as he hated those
words, he knew that she feared their truth.
You are not like her. You never will be, he thought.
Demeter vanished, but the silence felt heavy with her presence. It was Leuce who broke it, taking a few cautious steps before she hurried to Persephone, throwing her arms around her.
“Thank you, Persephone.”
The goddess hugged her back, and despite the smile on her face, Hades knew she was changed by this.
Hades’s gaze slid to Hermes, who still lingered in the room. When their eyes met, he knew they had both reached an understanding about what had occurred here.
Demeter was no longer Persephone’s family. They were, and they would do anything to protect her, to give her what she never had—even in the face of war.
*
While Persephone seemed more confident in the days following her encounter with her mother, she was also more anxious. Hades knew that was mostly due to Lexa, who remained in the hospital for another two weeks. Despite Persephone’s happiness upon her release, he worried she expected things to go back to normal. He was not certain she understood that she lived in a new world, one where Lexa would never be as she once was.
“Do you think Lexa will be able to attend the gala?” Persephone had asked one evening while they sat in the library.
The upcoming gala was hosted by the Cypress Foundation and would illustrate the impact of its charity work. Before Lexa’s accident, she had a role in planning the event, and while Hades would like Lexa to be present, he didn’t know if she was prepared for such an intense evening, and he said as much to Persephone.
She was quiet for a long moment, and when she spoke, her voice was thick with emotion. “How long do you think? Until she’s…”
Her voice trailed off, but he knew what she wanted to ask. How long until she’s normal again?
He rose and came to kneel before her, their eyes level.
“Darling,” he said quietly.
“I know,” she said, tears already streaming down her face. “You don’t have to say it.”
So he didn’t.
While he’d have liked to have his attention solely on Persephone, he couldn’t. Since the death of the Graeae, Hades had Ilias attempting to track Theseus’s contacts in the black market. His goal was to discover what relics the demigod had managed to obtain or might be seeking. Hades also had to deal with Hera, but first, he needed to make Zeus aware of what had happened to the Graeae. He wasn’t yet prepared to tell Zeus of Hera’s alliance with Theseus…unless she refused his ultimatum.
Hades found Zeus at his estate in Olympia, which was a modern version of Olympus. The gods had homes in both locations, even Hades, though he was loath to use them. The God of the Sky was in his backyard, a golf club clasped between his enormous hands as he attempted to hit a small white ball by twisting his entire body around. The first few swings sent grass and dirt flying across the lawn. When he finally hit the ball, it sounded like thunder as it tore through the air, zooming far past the flagged target in the distance. It likely landed in the ocean and belonged to Poseidon.
Zeus growled in frustration, an indication that the club in his hands was likely to follow wherever the ball landed.
“Starting a new hobby?” Hades asked, making himself known.
Zeus whirled, the scowl darkening his bearded face turning to one of jovial surprise, though Hades knew it was likely not because his brother
was glad to see him. There was an art to Zeus’s demeanor, and he crafted it carefully so that no one knew his true thoughts or feelings.