The indoor market is open most nights of the week during the winter. The ceiling is lost to the darkness above us, the warehouse an echoing space—or it would be if it were empty. This time of year, it’s filled with bustling shoppers and vendors. Semipermanent stalls are set up in narrow rows. They’re all a uniform size, but the owners have made each space their own with brightly colored canopies and signs advertising everything from produce to soap to desserts to trinkets. All of them have shops scattered around the lower city, but they keep a sampling of their products here.
Some of these people have had shops since I was a small child. Some of them stretch back generations. The entire warehouse is filled with the clamor of people buying and selling and a tangled mix of delicious food smells.
I use the noise as an excuse to slip my arm around Persephone’s waist and pull her close to speak directly into her ear. “Hungry?”
“Yes.” She still hasn’t taken her eyes off the market. It’s not as crowded tonight as it will be on the weekends, but there is still a large number of people crammed into the rows between the stalls. “Hades, what is this?”
“Winter market.” I inhale her summery scent. “During the warmer months, this whole setup moves out into a city block that’s specifically designated for this purpose. It’s open every night of the week, though some of the vendors cycle through.”
She turns to look at me. “This is like a secret world. Can we… Can we explore?” Her curiosity and joy are a balm to my soul that I never knew I craved.
“That’s what we’re here for.” Once again, I tug her back when she’d bolt into the crowd. “Food first. That’s my only stipulation.”
Persephone grins. “Yes, Sir.” She bounces onto her toes and kisses my cheek. “Take me to your favorite food place here.”
There it is again, the feeling of sharing parts of me with this woman that no one else gets to see. Of her appreciating and enjoying the bits of me that aren’t strictly Hades, ruler of the lower city, the shadow member of the Thirteen. In moments like this one, it’s as if she really sees me, and that’s intoxicating in the extreme.
We end up at a gyro stall, and I nod at Damien behind the counter. He grins at me. “Long time, no see.”
“Hey.” I nudge Persephone closer to the stall. “Damien, this is Persephone. Persephone, this is Damien. His family has been selling gyros in Olympus for, what is it? Three generations?”
“Five.” He laughs. “Though if you ask my uncle, it’s closer to ten, and on top of that, we can trace our lines back to Greece to some head cook who served Caesar himself.”
“I believe it.” I laugh just like he wants me to. We’ve had this exchange dozens of times, but he enjoys it so I’m more than happy to indulge him. “We’ll have two of the regular.”
“Coming right up.” It takes him a few moments to put the gyros together, and I allow myself to enjoy the way his smooth movements speak of years of practice. I still remember coming here as a teenager and watching Damien’s dad walk him through the process of taking an order and making the gyro, supervising his son with patience and love that I envied. They have a good relationship, and it was something I wanted to soak up peripherally, especially during those angsty teen years.
Damien holds up the gyros. “No charge.”
“You know better.” I pull cash out of my pocket and set it on the counter, ignoring his half-hearted protests. This, too, we do nearly every time I visit. I accept the gyros and hand one to Persephone. “This way.” I lead her around the edge of the warehouse to where a handful of tables and chairs have been set up and tucked back against the wall. There are several similar sitting areas scattered throughout the area so no matter where one buys food, they don’t have to walk far to find a place to sit and eat.
I glance over to find Persephone looking at me with a strange expression on her face. I frown. “What?”
“How often do you come down here?”
My skin prickles and I have the uncomfortable suspicion that I’m blushing. “Usually at least once a week.” When she just keeps staring, I have to fight not to shuffle my feet. “I find the chaos soothing.”
“That’s not the full reason.”
Once again, she’s entirely too perceptive. Strangely enough, I don’t mind elaborating. “This is just a small portion of the population in the lower city, but I like seeing people here going about their business. It’s normal.”