A Touch of Malice (Hades & Persephone #3)(18)

Persephone let out a long breath and then met Antoni’s gaze in the rearview mirror.

“Where did he go?”

“I do not know, my lady,” he answered, and she heard what he didn’t say— even if I did, I have been ordered to take you home. Persephone suddenly knew what she would ask of Hecate at their next training session—how to follow someone when they teleported.

Antoni let Persephone out at the front of Nevernight. Despite the awful cold and stream of ice falling from the sky, mortals still stood in line, desperate to hold onto their chance to see the inside of Hades’ infamous club. She was met by Mekonnen, an ogre and one of Hades’ bouncers, as she exited the vehicle. He held an umbrella over her head and walked with her to the door.

“Good evening, Persephone,” he said.

She grinned. “Hello, Mekonnen. How are you?”

“Well,” he replied.

She was relieved when he didn’t comment on the weather. Mekonnen held the door open, and she entered the club. She ascended the stairs to the floor, packed with mortals and immortals alike. She did not always walk the floor, sometimes she would teleport as soon as she set foot inside, but more and more, she was trying to grow comfortable with the kind of power that came with being engaged to Hades.

Which meant that this club, it was hers.

Sometimes she wished she could walk unseen among the crowds like Hades, observing and listening, uninterrupted, but she did not think that power would manifest among her skillset.

Persephone cut across the floor of Nevernight, passing packed lounges, the back-lit bar, and the sunken dance floor where flushed bodies pulsed beneath red laser light. As she moved, she knew others watched. Even if they did not look at her, they whispered, and while she did not know what they said, she could guess—there were no shortage of rumors, no shortage of body language experts analyzing her every move, no shortage of ‘close friends’ releasing details about her life in the Underworld, her struggles with grief, the challenges of planning a wedding, and while there was only a thread of truth to any of those articles, it was how the world formed their opinion of her.

Persephone knew words were both ally and enemy, but she always thought she would be behind sensational journalism, not the other way around.

She was just grateful that no one approached her. Not that she minded most of the time, but tonight she was feeling less trusting. Perhaps it had something to do with today’s coffee incident. Still, she knew that one of the reasons people kept their distance was that she was being guarded. Adrian and Ezio, two of several ogres Hades employed as bouncers and bodyguards, flanked her from a distance.

If anyone approached, they would converge.

Sometimes, though, even they weren’t intimidating enough to deter desperate mortals.

“Persephone!” A female voice rang out, barely audible over the clamor of the crowd. Persephone was used to people calling her name, and she was getting better at not letting it halt her stride, but this woman pushed through the crowd, and just as she made it to the stairs, cut her off.

“Persephone!” The dark-haired women said her name, out of breath from chasing her across the club. She was dressed in pink, and her chest heaved as she reached for her arm. Persephone jerked away, and suddenly, Adrian and Ezio stood between her and the mortal woman.

“Persephone,” she said her name again. “Please. I beg you! Hear me out!”

“Come, my lady,” Adrian implored, while Ezio maintained a barrier between her and the woman.

“A moment, Adrian,” she said, and placed her hand upon Ezio’s arm as she moved to stand beside him.

“Are you asking for my help?” Persephone said.

“Yes! Oh, Persephone—”

“She is the future wife and queen of Lord Hades,” said Adrian. “You will address her as such.”

The woman’s eyes widened. Not too long ago, Persephone would have cringed hearing Adrian’s correction, but the times where she asked others to call her only by her name were fewer and fewer.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry!”

Persephone felt herself growing impatient.

“Whatever your issue, it must not be as pressing considering it is taking you forever to get to the point.”

Gods, she really was starting to sound like Hades.

“Please, my lady—I implore you. I wish to bargain with Lord Hades. You must ask him to see me immediately.”

Persephone ground her teeth together. So the woman was not asking for her help—she wished for her to beg Hades for his. She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes, attempting to place a cap on her anger.

“Perhaps I can help you,” Persephone suggested.

The woman laughed, as if her suggestion was ludicrous. If she were being honest, the reaction hurt.

She realized this mortal did not know Persephone was a goddess, but it was another reminder of the worth that was placed upon Divinity.

Persephone’s lips flattened. “Rejecting my help is effectively rejecting Hades.”

She started up the stairs again, and the woman attempted to lunge toward her, but Ezio placed his arm between them, preventing the woman from touching her.

“Wait, please,” the woman’s tone became desperate. “I did not mean to offend. It’s just…how can you help me? You are mortal.”

Persephone paused, and glanced at the woman. “If what you are asking for requires the aid of a god, it is likely you shouldn’t be asking for it at all.”