A Game of Fate (Hades Saga #1)(99)

“My goddess was kind to you,” Hades hissed. “And this is how you repay her?”

Hades closed his fist, and Tantalus heaved, spitting up the water Persephone had given him until there was nothing left to vomit. Then he parted the water in the grotto, creating a dry path straight to the prisoner. The wicked king struggled to find his footing, pressing his feet flat against the column to which he was chained. Hades enjoyed watching him struggle. It eased the burden of his anger and his wish to see this mortal meet a violent end.

“You deserve to feel as I have felt—desperate and starved and alone!” Tantalus spit out as Hades approached.

Hades’ hand closed over the man’s neck.

“How do you know I haven’t felt like that for centuries, mortal?” he said quietly, his voice deadly in its tone. It promised punishment and pain, it promised all of the things Tantalus claimed he felt now, but worse.

His glamour melted away, and he stood before his prisoner in his Divine form as he had in the past.

“You are an ignorant mortal,” Hades said, his magic bubbling under the surface. “Before, I was merely your jailor, but now I shall be your punisher, and I think my judges were too merciful. I’ll curse you with an unquenchable hunger and thirst. I’ll even put you within reach of food and water, but everything you partake of will be fire in your throat.”

Hades dropped Tantalus, and he hit the stone pillar with an audible thud. It did nothing to deter the mortal, who growled like an animal and attempted to lunge for him, snapping his teeth. The feral attempt at an attack only amused Hades, and earned him a slot on his own victim’s list.

Hades snapped his fingers, sending the prisoner to wait in his office. After, he turned to Persephone.

He had never seen her look like this before—wide-eyed, small, shaky. She took a step away from him and slipped. Hades lunged forward to catch her before she could hit the ground, free of water since he still stood in the middle of the parted lake.

“Persephone.” Saying her name hurt his chest. “Please don’t fear me. Not you.”

Her eyes watered, and she broke, crying into his robes. His grip on her tightened, and yet, though he held her close, he felt that she was far away, and he realized that this was what it was to be on the brink of losing everything.

Still, he thought, if I hold her long enough, if I give her long enough, maybe I could hold her together, maybe I could hold us together.

He teleported to his room, where he sat near the fire, hoping she would warm enough to stop shivering, but she didn’t. He grew frustrated and gathered her against him, heading to the baths.

When they arrived, he lowered her to the floor. He drew her finger beneath her chin and tilted her head to meet his gaze. He wanted her to speak, to say something—anything—but she remained quiet. The only thing that gave him hope was that she did not protest as he undressed her or as he cradled her against him and carried her into the water.

“You are unwell,” he said after he could no longer stand the silence between them. “Did he…hurt you?”

He asked because he had to be sure.

Her answer was to squeeze her eyes shut, something he never knew could hurt his heart so badly.

“Tell me,” he whispered, brushing his lips across her forehead. “Please.”

She opened her eyes, glistening with tears.

“I know about Aphrodite, Hades,” she said. “I’m no more than a game to you.”

Those words made him angry. She had never been a game. In truth, he had rarely thought of the bargain with Aphrodite since it had begun. No, it had always been more than that. It had become a quest to see her power, to show her what it meant to be Divine, to convince her that she could be a queen.

“I have never considered you a game, Persephone.”

“The contract—”

“This has nothing to do with the contract!”

He released her, and as Persephone struggled to straighten, her reply was venomous.

“This has everything to do with the contract! Gods, I was so stupid! I let myself think you were good, even with the possibility of being your prisoner.”

“Prisoner? You would think yourself a prisoner here? Have I treated you so poorly?”

“A kind jailor is still a jailor,” Persephone snapped.

“If you considered me your warden, why did you fuck me?”

“It was you who foretold this.” Her voice shook. “And you were right—I did enjoy it, and now that it’s done, we can move on.”

“Move on?” He was rage incarnate, and his whole body shook. Was she speaking like this because her mother had caught them? “Is that what you want?”

“We both know it’s for the best.”

“I’m beginning to think you don’t know anything,” he said, stalking toward her. “I’m beginning to understand that you don’t even think for yourself.”

How had they gotten here? Where was the woman who had grown confident among his people? The woman who had waited for him, naked, in his office? The woman who had made a home in his heart?

“How dare you—”

“How dare I what, Persephone? Call out your bullshit? You act so powerless, but you’ve never made a damn decision for yourself. Will you let your mother determine who you fuck now?”