A Game of Fate (Hades Saga #1)(45)

He shook those thoughts from his head.

“What do you see?”

“Your palace, Asphodel, the River Styx and the Lethe… That’s it. Where is Elysium? Tartarus?”

He smiled at her eagerness to understand the Underworld, even if a part of him felt uneasy. If he had it his way, she would never explore the mountains and caverns of Tartarus. That part of his realm was a manifestation of his soul—dark and harrowing.

“The map will reveal them when you’ve earned the right to know.”

“What do you mean earned?”

“Only those I trust most may view this map in its entirety.” The map was a true weapon, and Hades let few have access to it, among them, Thanatos and Hecate.

“Who can see the whole map?” Then her voice tightened, and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Can Minthe see it?”

Her jealousy interested him, and he could not help goading her. “Would that bother you, Lady Persephone?”

“No,” she said quickly, and let her eyes fall to where her hands rested on the basin.

She was lying. He could hear it in the inflection of her voice, see it in the language of her body, taste it in the air between them. He should challenge her, much as he’d done the day she’d come to Nevernight to demand answers for his bargains. Will you speak of how you flush from your pretty head to your toes in my presence and how I make you lose your breath? He could point out that she had not put space between them since he approached, that she had been leaning closer to him the longer they spoke, arching her back in a way that drew attention to her curves.

It made him want her even more, and he knew if he kissed her now, she would let him take her. Their coupling would be hard and fast and desperate, and it would be full of regret.

He could not love her and have her lie, so he turned, needing distance, and retreated into the stacks, but she followed him, suffocating him with her heat and her smell.

She struggled to match his stride, panting out, “Why did you revoke my favor?”

“To teach you a lesson,” he replied, not looking at her.

“To not bring mortals into your realm?” He thought it was odd that her thoughts went to Adonis and not Orpheus. He was not sure what to make of that.

“To not leave when you are angry with me,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

She halted, setting aside the books she carried, and Hades turned to face her. His heart raced, and he questioned whether he could have this conversation.

“You strike me as someone who has a lot of emotions and has never quite been taught how to deal with it all, but I can assure you, running away is not the solution.”

I’m really one to talk, he thought. He was giving this speech for his own sake as much as hers.

“I had nothing more to say to you.”

“It’s not about words,” he said, frustrated, and then paused to take a few breaths before explaining, “I’d rather help you understand my motivations than have you spy on me.”

“It was not my intention to spy,” she said. “Hermes—”

“I know it was Hermes who pulled you into that mirror,” he said gently. This was not about the mirror at all. It was about changing her opinion of him. “I do not wish for you leave and be angry with me.”

She shook her head slightly, brows furrowing, and asked, “Why?”

“Because…” He felt stupid. In all his lifetimes, he had never had to explain himself. “It is important to me. I would rather explore your anger. I would hear your advice. I wish to understand your perspective.”

She started to speak again, and he knew what she would ask. Why? So, he answered, “Because you have lived among mortals. You understand them better than I. Because you are compassionate.”

She looked away, a faint color in her cheeks. After a moment, she asked in a quiet tone, “Why did you help the mother tonight?”

“Because I wished to,” he said, and he could practically feel Hecate’s eyes rolling. You can do better than that. I said communicate!

“And Orpheus?”

Hades offered a raspy sigh, rubbing his eyes with his forefinger and thumb. Hecate was right—he had to do better with his explanations.

“It isn’t so simple. Yes, I have the ability to resurrect the dead, but it does not work with everyone, especially where the Fates are involved. Eurydice’s life was cut short by the Fates for a reason. I cannot touch her.”

“But the girl?”

“She wasn’t dead, just in limbo. I can bargain with the Fates for lives in limbo.”

“What do you mean, bargain with the Fates?”

“It is a fragile thing,” he said. “If I ask the Fates to spare one soul, I do not get a say in the life of another.”

It meant that another life in limbo would be taken, something Hades tried hard not to think about in this moment.

“But…you are the God of the Underworld!”

He was, but that did not mean he would overrule decisions. Even if he could, he’d learned long ago there are consequences for such actions, and some burdens he was unwilling to bear. There was always a greater purpose at work, and for him to interfere would mean ruin.

“And the Fates are Divine,” he said. “I must respect their existence as they respect mine.”