A Game of Fate (Hades Saga #1)(96)

“No.” The two said instantly.

Zeus’ eyes flashed.

“Persephone has no desire to embrace her Divinity as of yet,” Hades explained. “Introducing her to Olympia too soon may scare her away. We would never know how truly powerful she was then.”

His brother studied him.

“Let her remain where she is,” Hades said. “Hecate will train her, and when her powers start to surface…I will bring her to you myself.”

It was the only way he’d allow the meeting to take place. It was inevitable, but it would be inevitable with him by her side.

Zeus’ eyes narrowed, and then he chuckled. “Ever the protector, brother. Very well, as soon as she shows her power, you will bring her to me.” He paused a moment, his hand resting on his stomach, and shook his head. “A goddess, masquerading as a mortal journalist. No wonder you fell in love, Hades.”

Once they were outside Zeus’ office, Demeter turned to him.

“Your life may be woven with my daughter’s, but that does not mean you were meant to love one another.”

“I will always love her,” Hades said. It was the only thing he could promise. “And I care for what I love.”

“If you cared, you would have never touched her. She is a Daughter of Spring!”

“And a Queen of Darkness,” Hades countered. “If you wish to be angry with anyone, be angry with yourself. It was you who planted the seed of her betrayal, you who pushed her further away with your tyranny, you who left her powerless and afraid. She deserves loyalty and freedom and power.”

“And you think you can give her that? King of Death and Darkness?”

“I think she can take it for herself,” he replied and vanished, leaving Demeter alone with her fury.

***

In the weeks that followed, Hades tried to distract Persephone from her mother’s wrath, but she seemed to grow more morose. He saw it most when she thought he was not looking—in the moments before he surprised her by appearing in the library while she read, or just before she left the palace for a walk, or in the early mornings when she rose before him to shower and dress.

She was creating distance between them. He could feel it growing, pulling at the threads that bound them for eternity, and it hurt.

He found her standing in front of her still desolate garden. He hated to find her here, staring at this patch of land that had come to mean so much to the both of them.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back against him.

“Are you well?” he asked, his head falling against her shoulder.

She did not answer, and the weight in his stomach felt sharp and acute. She turned in his arms, staring up at him, and he got the sense that she wanted to ask him something. Instead, she answered him.

“I’m just stressed. Finals.”

He studied her, eyes searching. “Persephone, you can tell me anything.”

She frowned, as if she did not believe him, and Hades felt the inside of his chest wilt, like a flower exposed to too much sun.

He closed his hand over her wrist, where the mark covered her skin.

“Are you worried about the contract?” he asked.

She looked away.

He didn’t know what to say; the contract was binding. The terms had to be fulfilled. He could not comfort her with promises that everything would be okay when he knew what she wanted—the ability to move between worlds. It was a reality he was coming to terms with, that his love for her would never be enough. She would need her freedom, too.

“Come,” he said. “I have a surprise for you.”

He guided her hand to his, threading their fingers together, and tugged her toward the open field outside the garden. They walked for a while, entering the forest on the other side of the field. He did not follow a set path, navigating between trees to a meadow where a blanket was spread and a basket of food waited.

“What’s this?” Persephone asked, looking up at Hades.

“I thought we might have dinner,” he said. “A picnic in the Underworld.”

She raised a brow, suspicious. “Did you pack the basket?”

“I…helped,” he said. “I even made cookies.”

Persephone grinned. “You made cookies?”

“You are far too excited,” he said. “Lower your expectations.”

But she was already racing to the blanket. She fell to her knees and opened the basket, digging inside until she located what she was looking for—a small bag of chocolate chip cookies. Hades had slaved over them. It had taken hours in the kitchen last night, and he had made a mess Milan, the head chef, had been very unhappy about.

Persephone sat cross legged and opened the bag.

“You know those are for dessert,” Hades said as he lowered himself to the blanket.

“And? I’m an adult. I can have dessert for dinner if I want.”

Hades chuckled and fished out the remaining items he had packed—meats and cheeses, fruits and breads. Last, a bottle of wine and his flask. He wasn’t keen on another evening spent drinking fermented grapes.

He popped a cube of cheese in his mouth and took a drink from his flask as Persephone bit into a cookie. It crunched loudly, and Hades flinched. They were not at all like the cookies they had made together. Hers were soft, chewy, melt-in-your-mouth delicious. His were hard and kind of burnt.