The Mad King (The Dark Kings #1)(17)

“A request?” He scoffed. “And what makes you think I’d be inclined to honor any request from you vermin in the above?”

Increasing the strength of the light that my gown was built of to hide my actions from his prying eyes, I clenched my fists so tight that my nails pierced the palms. I had to get my temper under control.

None of this was his fault.

He did not remember.

He did not know me.

But he would.

I vowed it by all that was holy and honorable. He would. It wasn’t easy being patient. Patience had never been my forte. It’d been Calypso’s, ironically enough. Still waters ran deep, and hers had run deepest of all.

I just had to keep reminding myself that Hades had finally let me in, and small step though it was, progress had been made.

Then something Hades had said finally snared my thoughts. He’d called Olympus the above.

Only a water dweller referred to the worlds as two distinct strata. The above. And the below. Always Hades had called Olympus, Olympus. Until he’d wedded Calypso.

I bit my bottom lip. I knew it was reaching to think that maybe some part of him remembered his previous world. His happy ending.

But I was desperate. If maybe, just maybe, a tiny part of the real Hades was buried down deep inside him, there might be a way to reach him. To make him do the impossible.

I just needed to gently remind him that there was more to life than death, than pain, than torture, than suffering.

“I know you do not know me well, great Lord of the Underworld,” I began, clutching my fingers tight before me as though in prayerful supplication, “but I would have you know that I would be your truest and greatest ally if you would only let me.”

His face instantly transformed from cold displeasure to scornful fury. “You mock me!” he hissed.

I frowned. “Of course not.”

Terrible laughter echoed through the great hall. “Do you believe me a fool, Aphrodite? Spoiled daughter of Zeus.” His nose curled with disgust. “Think to come and make sport of me? To bed me, perhaps? Always a game to you, is it not?”

The heat of his eyes as he raked them boldly down my form made me want to cry. My throat clogged with tears.

Just who did he think I was?

But no sooner had I asked myself that question than I knew the answer. My stories were mostly true. My seductions. Bed sports. My vanity was legendary. But for the past many centuries, I’d worked hard at changing my selfishness. I’d become someone others trusted. Loved even.

Maybe in this world, Aphrodite was still all those things to be hated and reviled. But I knew who I’d once been, and I would stop at nothing until the rest of the world saw me for who I really was.

True.

Yes, I loved sex. Love. And romance. But I was so much more than that.

Shaking my head, I glared at him. “Think what you want, Uncle. But know this, my words are true. And so is my heart. The underworld is melancholy, and I feel the tremors, the cold sting of death, even in my palace above the clouds. I wish to help you, but only if you let me.”

His nostrils flared as his fingers dug into his armrest. The silver-clawed gloves he wore carved grooves into the heads. “Why?”

I swallowed hard. The question had been demanding, but not so much angry as confused.

“Why do you care how I suffer? You never have before.”

I closed my eyes. Dear Zeus, if he only knew the truth. I’d grown to love Hades deeply. Cared for his welfare even above my own. But apparently the Aphrodite of this world cared naught for the plight of others.

Knowing I couldn’t tell him the truth just yet, I opted to give him an abridged version of it. “Let’s just say I understand you.”

He snorted. “Understand me. You, with all your fripperies and finery? Your bevy of nude males adorning your bed while your pathetic mate hammers away at his forge day and night, turning a blind eye to your thousands of—”

“Stop it,” I cried with a strangled gasp. “Just stop it. You know nothing of me, Hades. You never have.”

He turned his face to the side, and I watched as a thick muscle twitched in his jaw several times. The silence stretching between us to the point that it grew tense and uncomfortable.

I shouldn’t have come.

But what else was I to do?

Hades had once told me that the journey of a thousand miles began with the first step. He’d been so right.

A deep thinker, he was.

It was why he’d never grown attached to any of us in Olympus. He’d always been so much better than us.

I blinked. Was it possible that the anger he wore now was still only a shield? Was it possible that maybe, buried beneath the spiny prickles, was the same soulful, caring man?

“You did not deserve my words,” he murmured thickly, pulling me away from my newfound epiphany. “It was wrong of me.” He didn’t look at me.

Yes! He was still in there. Hope bloomed like a sunburst inside me. Breath hitching a little, I nodded. “You’re right. I didn’t. Open your eyes, Uncle. Can you not see how very similar you and I are?”

Finally he did turn to look at me, confusion etched tight upon his brow and bracketing small lines around his mouth.

“How can you say so? I sit alone in this palace. Never visited. Never known. Missed by none. All the worlds worship you.”

I shook my head. “Who cares?”