A Touch of Malice (Hades & Persephone #3)(75)

The room was round, the floor black marble like the rest of the castle. Most of the walls were fixed with what looked like bookcases, only they held a variety of weapons—blades and spears, javelins and slings, bows and arrows. There were modern weapons, too—guns and grenades and other artillery. There were also shields, helmets, chainmail and leather breastplates on display, but what drew her attention was the piece at the center of the room—a display of Hades’ armor. It looked both threatening and deadly. Sharp metal spikes covered the shoulders, arms, and legs. A black cape hung over the left shoulder, and a dark helm rested at its feet.

Persephone approached and brushed her fingers along the cold metal of the helmet. She tried to imagine Hades dressed in this. He was already large and imposing—this would make him…

monstrous.

“How long has it been?” she asked quietly. “Since you wore this?”

“A while,” he answered. “I do not need it unless I am fighting gods.”

“Or against a weapon that can kill you,” she said.

Hades did not respond. He reached around her and picked up the helm.

“This is the Helm of Darkness,” he said. “It grants its wearer the ability to become invisible. It was made for me by the cyclops during the War of Titanomachy.”

She knew of the Three Weapons—Hades’ Helm of Darkness, Zeus’s Lightning Bolt, and Poseidon’s Trident. There were always turning points during battle—a time when the tide changes for better or worse for either side. These weapons had changed fate for the Olympians and allowed them to defeat the Titians.

Seeing the helm made Persephone feel dread. She suspected Triad wished for war. Would she see Hades clad in this armor soon?

“Why do you need this helm?” She asked. “One of your powers is invisibility.”

“Invisibility is a power I gained overtime as I became stronger,” he said, then he offered a wry smile. “Outside of that, I prefer to protect my head during battle.”

He thought he was funny, but Persephone frowned as he handed the helm to her. She held it between her hands, staring at the scratches and small dents upon its surface. She always imagined no one getting close enough to Hades to hurt him during battle, but the marks on this helm reminded her otherwise.

“I want you to wear this while at Council,” he said.

Persephone lifted her head. “Why?”

“Council is for Olympians,” he said. “And I am not eager to introduce you to either of my brothers, especially under these circumstances. You will not like everything that is said.”

“Are you worried my mouth will sabotage our engagement?” she asked, raising a brow.

Hades grinned, and it was refreshing considering he’d been so serious the past few days since her injuries in Club Aphrodisia.

“Oh darling, I have faith your mouth will only improve it.”

They stared at one another for a long moment before her gaze dipped, trailing over his muscles to his still erect cock.

“Are you going to Council naked, my lord? If so, I insist on watching.”

“If you keep staring at me like that, we will not go to Council at all,” he said, and with a flick of his wrist, they were both dressed in black—Hades in his suit and Persephone in a sheath dress. It made her wonder how the other gods dressed to attend Council. Would they wear the finery of ancient gods?

Hades held out his hand.

“Ready?”

Truly, she wasn’t certain, but she was comforted by Hades and his helm. This would be one of the last times she ever had time to consider if she was ready. There would come a point when there was no time, when everything depended upon quick action.

She placed her fingers into his palm, still cradling the helm, and they teleported.

They landed in shadow, her back was to a large column, and when she looked to the side, she could see more curving off to the left and right. Persephone could hear voices—booming and frustrated.

“This storm must end, Zeus! My cult begs for relief.”

Persephone did not know who spoke, but she guessed it was Hestia judging by the still-gentle tone.

“I am not eager to see the storm go,” Zeus said. “The mortals have grown too bold and need to be taught a lesson. Perhaps freezing to death will remind them who rules their world.”

Persephone met Hades’ gaze. Zeus’s words were an issue. They were why Harmonia had been attacked and why Tyche had died. It was behavior mortals were growing tired of and they were rebelling.

Hades placed his finger to his lips, took the helm from her and placed it upon her head. She did not feel any different once it was on, except it was heavy and did not sit on her head properly. Hades lips brushed against her knuckles before he let her go. He moved through the darkness undetected. She only knew when he appeared before the Olympians because he spoke—his voice dark, dripping with distain.

“You will be reminding them of nothing save their hatred for you—for all of us,” Hades said, responding to Zeus’s earlier statement.

“Hades,” his name came out as a growl from Zeus’s mouth.

Persephone crept along the outside of the columns. Beyond them, she could see the back of a set of thrones—and the front of three others—Poseidon, Aphrodite, and Hermes. Each throne represented a piece of the gods. For Poseidon, it was a trident, Aphrodite, a pink shell, for Hermes, his herald’s wand.