far from chaste or loyal to her in any regard.
“Hera,” Hades replied.
“I hope I was not interrupting,” she said.
Hades looked around the room. No one was present aside from Hermes.
“Perhaps we should drop false pretenses, Hera,” Hades said. “There is no one present to witness your false courtesy.”
The goddess smiled. “Your next labor begins in an hour,” she said.
“Hermes, why don’t you prepare our… guest?”
Hades’s gaze cut to the god, who was far too nervous not to be guilty of something. Hermes bowed his head. “Of course,” he said, finally meeting Hades’s eyes. “This way, Hades.”
Hades had never felt this kind of tension with Hermes. It was the kind that developed when someone wasn’t being truthful, and it was rapidly morphing into anger. He knew the God of Mischief felt it too, because he moved stiffly before Hades as he called for the elevator in Hera’s office.
Its doors were gold and opened into a needlessly extravagant lift. The floor was carpeted, thick and plush. The walls were mirrored and framed in gold. There was even a chandelier overhead; the crystals dripping from it touched Hades’s head. He turned once inside, never taking his eyes from Hera as the doors closed, sealing him inside with the God of Trickery.
Now that they were alone, Hades spoke. “Care to tell me what is going on?” he asked.
“I…” Hermes said and cleared his throat. “I can’t.”
“Hmm…so much for being best friends.”
Hermes’s eyes and mouth opened, and Hades did not know if it was from the shock of him using those words or the thought of actually losing his friendship, but after a moment, his gaze narrowed, and his lips pressed thin.
Hermes seemed more on edge, and with good reason, because in the next second, Hades had him pressed against the wall by his neck.
The god’s hand clamped down on Hades’s arm and he laughed nervously.
“This was far less scary in my dreams.”
“For what am I being made ready?” Hades asked through clenched teeth.
“Fight night,” Hermes said. “You’re going into the ring, Hades.”
Hades released him, and the god fell to the floor. As he rose to his feet again, Hermes pressed his fingers to his neck.
“Definitely thought I’d enjoy choking far more,” Hermes said. “Thanks for ruining a fantasy.”
Hades ignored the god. He was not so surprised that Hera hosted such an event. It was likely she used it to choose heroes and favored mortals.
“Who am I fighting?” Hades asked.
“I don’t know,” Hermes replied.
Hades looked at him, and the god flinched away.
“You’re being a little dramatic, don’t you think?” Hades asked.
Hermes straightened and glared. “You just pinned me against a wall and not in a good way!”
Hades stared, waiting for an answer to his question.
“The competitors are different every week,” Hermes said. “That’s the point. The chosen—that’s you, in case you didn’t know—goes in blind. It’s a test of your ability to improvise and adapt.”
Which probably meant no magic.
They did not speak as the elevator came to a halt, and when the doors opened, it was into a busy concrete tunnel filled with a muted, blue-tinged light. Hades recognized this as one of the underground tunnels below the streets of New Athens. It seemed many used this particular one to reach Hera’s fight night.
The two gods joined the fray. Many continued forward, down a set of stairs to a large open bar, backlit with blue. An oval sunken floor created stadium-style seating where people gathered.
Hermes and Hades did not descend into the throng, however. They took a right, marching down a hall that was just as crowded with people, some bent over the edge of a metal rail overlooking the bar, while others leaned against the opposite wall, preferring the peace and anonymity the darkness offered.
That was where Hades wanted to be, swallowed by shadow. Instead, he walked unglamoured among both mortals and immortals. He could feel their apprehension as much as he could see it—averted eyes and a body that bent away from his presence.
As if either would keep away death.
He could not help thinking of Persephone at this moment. The woman who pressed close to him, who sought his warmth and even his darkness.
The woman who traced the threads on his skin with curiosity, not disgust.
She was why he was here, he reminded himself. At the end of the day, this was about her—it was about them. It was to save a future that had barely begun and was already under threat by the Goddess of Marriage.