A Game of Fate (Hades Saga #1)(48)

“Nycteus?” The youngest of the four snorted.

Hades chuckled and then approached Aethon’s stall. “Alright, since you were so vocal.”

He opened the gate, leading the beast to the wash station in the stables. He did not need to secure him to keep him from running off. Despite their wish to roam, they would not disobey their master. Hades began the process by cleaning Aethon’s hooves, prying dirt and mud free from the soles of his feet. After, he curried the coat, loosening mud and grit and dirt. As he worked, he spoke.

“Hecate tells me you four have been grazing in her mushroom grove again.”

They snorted in denial at the accusation.

“Are you sure?”

They shook their heads, neighing.

“Because Hecate said she called to each of you, and you fled like shadow, eyes aflame.”

They were all quiet.

Then, Alastor brayed, and Hades laughed.

“Are you suggesting Hecate hallucinated the whole thing?”

The four snorted in agreement.

“While I don’t doubt Hecate’s use of hallucinogenic mushrooms, I also do not doubt your use,” he said.

Hades moved on, working the knots free from Aethon’s main and tail. He brushed his coat two more times, with a stiffer brush and a finishing brush. Last, he used a damp cloth to clean around Aethon’s eyes, muzzle, and ears.

“Off you go,” he said, and Aethon hurried from the stable into the early morning of the Underworld.

Hades moved onto Orphnaeus, then Nycteus, and last Alastor, repeating the same steps of cleaning hooves, coat, and mane.

As he wiped around Alastor’s eyes, he asked in a quiet voice. “Are you well, my friend?”

The horse stared at Hades with dark eyes, and within them, he saw the depth of his torture. Of the four, Alastor was the most haunted. He often separated from the others to wander alone, needing the isolation to fight his own demons.

Hades understood.

The horse exhaled quietly, and Hades brushed his snout.

“I would mourn the loss of you,” he said. “But if you need to drink from the Lethe…I will grant your wish.”

Alastor offered a snort, and shook his head, declining the offer.

Hades grinned. “It is just an offer,” he said. “On the table…if ever you grow too weary.”

He finished cleaning Alastor’s ears and stepped away.

“Alright, my friend. Off you go.”

As Alastor raced from the stables, he passed Minthe, who approached Hades with a smug expression on her face. He wasn’t sure why, but dread pooled in his stomach at her approach.

“My lord,” she said. “I have news.”

Hades focused on cleaning up, not meeting her gaze.

“And what news is that, Minthe?”

“It’s something you’ll want to see, my lord.”

He hung the last of the brushes on a post near the wash station before turning to look at her. The nymph held up a paper, a copy of New Athens News. His eyes were immediately drawn to the cover story, which included his name.

Hades, God of the Game

by Persephone Rosi

Hades snatched the paper from her hands, staring at those bold, black letters until they blurred across the page.

“It seems your precious Persephone has betrayed you,” Minthe was saying, but her voice sounded far away. He was too focused on the words his goddess had written to pay attention.

In my short encounter with the God of the Underworld, he can best be described as tense. He is cold and boorish, his eyes colorless chasms of judgement set within a callous face. He lurks in the shadows of his club, preying upon the vulnerable.

Hades felt a rush of embarrassment and shame and anger, and for a moment, all he could think was, So this is what she truly thinks of me? And yet he could not reconcile how she had acted in the library the night before, the way she had leaned into him, the way she had parted her lips, ready for his own. He had felt her passion just as acutely as he felt his own.

Could these really be her thoughts? Her words? Was she trying to cage her heart?

He continued reading.

Hades says the rules of Nevernight are clear. Lose against him, and you are obligated to fulfill a contract, one that exposes his debtors to shame, and while he has claimed success, he has yet to name a single soul who has benefited from his so-called charity.

So-called charity.

He gritted his teeth; he was plenty charitable.

How is she supposed to know? I haven’t told her, he countered.

“I will visit Demetri today. Persephone will never write again,” Minthe said.

It was the usual avenue. Anyone who photographed or wrote about Hades usually found themselves out of a job and unable to be hired. No one wanted to incur the wrath of Hades, and despite how this article made him feel, he could not take away Persephone’s dream.

“No,” Hades said, and the word was harsh, a mix of alarm and frustration.

Minthe’s eyes widened. “But…this is defamation!”

“Persephone is mine to punish, Minthe.”

The nymph’s brows narrowed harshly over her burning eyes. “And what is your idea of punishment? Fucking her until she begs for release?”

“Fuck you, Minthe.”

“This isn’t you,” she argued. “If it were any other mortal, you would let me do my job!”