A Game of Fate (Hades Saga #1)(79)

Beside him was Artemis, to her great dismay, as she—no one—got along with Ares. Her throne was simple, a gold-toned half-moon. Beside her sat Apollo, whose seat mimicked the sun’s rays in the form of a glimmering aureole circling behind him. Next was Demeter, whose seat looked more like a moss-covered tree, rich with white and pink flowers, and ivy spilling to the floor. Beside her, Athena, whose throne was a set of silver and gold wings. She sat, beautiful and poised, face expressionless, crowned with a gold circlet set with blue sapphires. Lastly, between the throne of Athena and Zeus, was Hades’, a black obsidian seat made of lethal, jagged edges, much like his in the Underworld.

The only god who spoke was Zeus, and everyone else looked angry or bored, except Hermes. Hermes looked amused.

Probably still laughing at his joke, Hades thought.

Hades wasn’t sure what Zeus was talking about, but he thought he must be telling a story because he was saying, “I mean, I am not an unreasonable god, so I said—”

Hades stepped out from his hiding spot and walked down the center of the oval. Zeus’ voice boomed, echoing all around.

“Hades! Late as usual, I see.”

He ignored his brother’s judgement and took the seat beside him.

“You are aware of the allegations against you?” the God of the Skies asked.

Hades just stared. He wasn’t going to make this easy. He knew there would be repercussions for his actions and could admit that his choice to steal Helios’ cattle was petty, but Helios had prevented Hades from Divine Judgement. Wasn’t the Titan only here by the grace of Zeus himself?

“He says you stole his cattle,” Zeus continued. “And he is threatening to plunge the world into eternal darkness if you do not return them.”

“Then we shall have to launch Apollo into the sky,” Hades said.

The God of Music and the Sun glared. “Or you can give Helios’ cattle back. Why take them anyway? Don’t you condemn the rest of us for such…trivial behavior?”

“Do not be too hard on Hades. It is how he feels he must act, given he is the most dreaded among us.” Those were Hera’s words, and they made Hades clench his jaw.

“Not anymore!” Zeus boomed. “Our resident grump has gone and fallen in love with a mortal. He has the whole world swooning.”

Zeus laughed, but no one else did. Hades sat, his fingers curled over the edges of his throne, the obsidian biting into his skin. He could feel the anger radiate from Demeter. None of these gods save Hermes knew Persephone’s true origins. He wondered if the God of Lightening would laugh, knowing Hades had fallen in love with a goddess. There were greater implications when gods united, because it meant sharing power.

“Be kind, Father.” It was Aphrodite who spoke, her voice dripped with sarcasm, her anger over Adonis still apparent. “Hades does not know the difference between attention and love.”

“Do you speak from experience, Aphrodite?” Hades challenged.

Her expression turned sullen, and she crossed her arms over her chest, sinking into her seat.

His response to Aphrodite silenced the rest, because as much as they liked to make fun, they knew Hades was dangerous. Stealing Helios’ cattle had been a kindness, revenge in its most basic form. If he had wanted to, he could have plunged the world into darkness himself. Helios need not threaten it.

“You will return his cattle, Hades,” Zeus said.

Again, Hades said nothing. He would not argue with Zeus in front of the other gods.

“Since we are assembled. Are there any other matters you wish to bring forth?”

This was the part Hades dreaded. Council was only supposed to be four times a year, and yet Zeus would call it for a trivial reasons and then ask to hear grievances, as if he had nothing better to do than mediate arguments between Poseidon and Ares—the only two who ever spoke.

Except this time.

“Triad is being led by demi-gods,” Hades said, and he looked at Poseidon as he spoke. “I have reason to believe they are planning a rebellion.”

This time, Zeus was not the only one to laugh. Poseidon, Ares, Apollo, even Artemis laughed.

“If they wish for battle, I will bring it,” Ares said, always eager for bloodshed. Hades hated him, hated his lust for death and destruction. He knew not one other god who wished to revel in the horror of war.

“I suppose you laugh because you think it is impossible. But our parents believed the same of us and look where we sit,” Hades said.

“Do I hear fear in your voice?” Ares challenged.

“I am the God of the Dead,” Hades said. “Who am I to fear battle? When you all die, you come to me and face my judges, the same as any mortal.”

Silence followed his statement.

“It would take great power for these demi-gods to defeat us,” Artemis said. “Where would they get it?”

From Divine favor, Hades thought but did not say.

“We are no longer living in the ancient world,” Athena said. “There are weapons other than magic at their disposal.”

It was true, and the longer mortals studied the magic of the gods, the more they understood how to harness it and potentially use it against them.

“I’m merely stating that it would be in our best interest to observe,” Hades said. “Triad will grow in numbers and strength if their high lords are as predictable as I think.”