Hades cocked his head to the side, as if he were trying to decide whether he should tell her the truth.
“Hecate is the Lady of Tartarus,” Hades explained, “And particularly good at deciding punishments for the wicked.”
Persephone shivered. “Where is Tartarus?”
“I would tell you if I thought you would use the knowledge to avoid it.”
“You think I want to visit your torture chamber?”
He leveled his dark gaze upon her.
“I think you are curious,” he said. “And eager to prove I am as the world assumes, a deity to be feared.”
“You are afraid I will write about what I see.”
He chuckled. “Fear is not the word, darling.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course, you fear nothing.”
Hades responded by reaching to pluck a flower from her hair. “Did you enjoy Asphodel?”
“I did,” she said smiling. She couldn’t help it. Everyone had been so kind. “Your souls…they seem so happy.”
“You are surprised?”
“Well you aren’t exactly known for your kindness,” Persephone said, and then regretted the harshness of her words.
Hades’ jaw tightened, and then he said, “I’m not known for my kindness to mortals. There is a difference.”
“Is that why you play games with their lives?” she asked.
Hades’ eyes narrowed, and she could feel the tension rise between them, like the restless waters of the Styx.
“I seem to recall advising that I would answer no more of your questions.”
Persephone’s mouth fell open. “You cannot be serious.”
“As the dead,” he said.
“But…how will I get to know you?”
He tilted his head to the side, that stupid smirk on his face. “You want to get to know me?”
She averted her gaze, and her cheeks flushed. “I’m being forced to spend time here, right? Shouldn’t I get to know my jailer better?”
“So dramatic,” he said, but he was quiet for a moment, considering.
“Oh no,” Persephone said.
Hades looked surprised. “What?”
“I know that look.”
He raised a curious brow. “What look?”
“You get this…look. When you know what you want.”
She felt ridiculous saying that out loud.
His eyes darkened and his voice lowered. “Do I?” he paused. “Can you guess what I want?”
“I’m not a mind reader!”
“Pity,” he said and then, “if you would like to ask questions, then I propose a game.”
“No. I’m not falling for that again.”
“No contract,” he said. “No favors owed, just questions answered—like you want.”
She lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes. “Fine. But I get to pick the game.”
He hadn’t expected that—and the surprise showed on his face. Then he grinned. “Very well, Goddess.”
CHAPTER IX – ROCK, PAPER, SCISSORS
“This game sounds horrible,” Hades complained standing in the middle of his study—a beautiful room with floor to ceiling windows, and a large obsidian fireplace. He’d found a shirt in the time they’d returned to the palace, and Persephone was only glad because his nakedness would have proved a distraction during their game.
“You’re just mad because you haven’t played.”
“It sounds simple enough—rock beats scissors, scissors beats paper, and paper beats rock—how exactly does paper beat rock?”
“Paper covers rock,” Persephone said.
Hades did not appreciate her reasoning and the goddess shrugged. “Why is an ace a wildcard?”
“Because it’s the rules.”
“Well, it’s a rule that paper covers rock,” she said. “Ready?”
They lifted their hands, and Persephone couldn’t help giggling. Witnessing the God of the Dead playing rock-paper-scissors should be on every mortal’s bucket list.
“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” They said in unison.
“Yes!” Persephone squealed. “Rock beats scissors!”
She mimicked smashing Hades’ scissors with her fist—the god looked confused.
“Damn. I thought you’d choose paper.”
“Why?”
“Because you just sang paper’s praises.”
“Only because you asked why paper covers rock. This isn’t poker, Hades—it’s not about deception.”