A Touch of Malice (Hades & Persephone #3)(33)

Persephone’s fists clenched, and she looked to Apollo, whose remained emotionless.

“I don’t trust him,” said another. “What if he’s fooling us all? Perhaps he’s pretending he is deaf so we will let down our guard or go easy on him?”

“He’s a favor fuck,” A woman added. “Poseidon’s if I’ve heard correctly.”

They all laughed but Persephone was appalled. She looked at Apollo.

“Will you let them continue to speak like this?”

“They are not my heroes,” he said.

“They might not be your heroes, but you are chancellor of the Games. Do you not set the standard for their behavior?” she paused. “Or is this the standard?”

Apollo’s gaze was murderous, but their attention returned to the field as Hector bent to pick up a wooden staff.

“Apollo,” Persephone’s voice rose in pitch.

Hector reared back, his strength evident in the bulge of his muscles, and threw the staff toward Ajax. Persephone watched in horror as the staff flew through the air, straight for Ajax’s head, but then the mortal turned in time and caught the staff with one hand. He stared at it for a second before his cold gaze fell upon Hector and those who had stood aside during the attempted assault. Their smirks faded into gaping mouths, just as Persephone’s was now.

Ajax broke the staff across his knee and discarded the pieces. Hector smiled.

“So your reflexes are good—but how are you in the pit?”

In the next second, he charged Ajax. Together, they fell into the mud, water sloshing everywhere, spraying the faces of those closest. Apollo drew closer to the edge of the portico as the two wrestled —except they weren’t exactly wrestling, they were fighting. For a moment, Hector seemed to have the upper hand, pummeling Ajax’s face after he landed on his back, but Ajax quickly took charge, capturing Hector’s fist between his hands and throwing him off as if he weighed nothing. The two got to their feet, circling each other, their expressions full of rage.

Hector rush at Ajax who bent, punching him in the stomach. Then, he lifted Hector off his feet and flipped him onto his back.

“They hate each other,” Persephone said.

“They are opponents,” Apollo replied, but Persephone was not so sure. Hector laughed and joked with the other heroes; it was Ajax he treated differently. She wondered briefly if it as because he was different—deaf—or perhaps it was jealousy. Ajax was strong and capable despite his hearing. Still, Persephone felt as though she knew this rage—she had felt it in the forest of despair.

Her gaze return to Hector who moaned on the frozen ground.

As quick as their fight had begun, it was over. Ajax did not stand over Hector to gloat, but he did turn and glare at Apollo before gathering his clothes and leaving the courtyard.

Persephone’s brows drew together as she looked from the mortal’s retreating form to the God of the Sun.

“Aren’t you going to check on your hero?” she asked.

“No. It is Hector’s punishment for his hubris,” Apollo said. “Perhaps this will humble him before he faces Ajax in the Panhellenic Games.”

“Will you still host the Games in this weather?”

“If men and women cannot fight in a little snow then they do not belong in the games.”

“It’s not just about the competitors, Apollo. What about the spectators? Travel is dangerous in this weather.”

“If you are so worried, then maybe you should talk to your mother.”

Persephone dropped her gaze, frowning. “So you know?”

“We all know,” Apollo said. “It’s not like Demeter hasn’t done this before. It’s just a matter of when Zeus will intervene.”

Persephone’s stomach soured.

“Will she listen to Zeus? If he tells her to stop?”

“She will,” Apollo replied. “Or there will be war.”

They left the field and Apollo gave Persephone a tour of the Palestra of Delphi. It was a beautiful facility with several rooms for bathing, sports, and equipment that branched off from the portico surrounding the field. There were a few indoor training fields and a large open stadium for chariot practices. She looked out over the field now from a private suite that included a bar, large televisions mounted to the walls, and leather seats that faced a panel of windows. Persephone was just happy to be inside where it was warm.

“This place is amazing,” she said.

There was something even more impressive about chariot stadiums and races. Persephone had only ever seen them on television but being here in person gave her an idea of just how monumental they were.

“I’m glad you like it,” said Apollo. “I am…very proud of it.”

Persephone didn’t think she’d ever heard Apollo say something like that.

There was silence as she stared at the center of the track where a low wall called a spina ran down the oblong track. Several statues decorated it, including a gold one of Apollo, but there was also Artemis and a woman she did not recognize.

“Who is the third statue?” she asked.

“My mother, Leto,” Apollo said. “She risked her life to give birth to my sister and I so we protected her.”

Persephone knew that Hera had Leto pursued relentlessly before and after she’d given birth to her divine twins, jealous of Zeus’s infidelity. She also knew what Apollo meant by protect—he and his sister had slaughtered mortal and creature alike. Persephone’s mouth tightened at the thought.