A Touch of Malice (Hades & Persephone #3)(94)

“Is everything alright?” Persephone asked. She’d never seen a soul get upset in Asphodel before and yet even Persephone knew there was a kind of melancholy in the air she’d never felt before.

The soul immediately pulled away from Yuri and wiped her eyes, not looking at Persephone. Still, she could tell she was young—probably in her early twenties. She had black hair and blunt bangs that framed a pale face.

“Lady Persephone,” Yuri curtsied, and the soul beside her mimicked her action quickly. “This is Angeliki. She just arrived in Asphodel.”

Persephone didn’t need any more of an explanation. The woman had been at Talaria Stadium.

“Angeliki,” Persephone said. “It is nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” the woman whispered.

“Lady Persephone is soon to be our queen,” Yuri said.

Angeliki’s eyes widened.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Angeliki? To help you adjust to your new home?”

That only made the woman cry harder, and Yuri embraced her once again, smoothing a hand down her arm.

“She is worried about her mother,” Yuri explained. “Angeliki was her caretaker. Now that she is here, there is no one to watch over her mother.”

Persephone felt a pang of sadness for this woman whose tears were not for herself, but for another and she knew she had to do something.

“What if your mother’s name, Angeliki?”

“Nessa,” she said. “Nessa Levidis.”

“I will ensure she is looked after,” Persephone said.

Angeliki eyes widened. “You will? Truly?”

“Yes,” she said. “I promise.”

And gods could not break promises.

The young woman threw her arms around Persephone.

“Thank you,” she said, sobbing against her, body shaking. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Persephone said, before pulling away. “All will be well.”

She took a deep breath and then offered a small laugh. “I’m going to clean up.”

Persephone and Yuri watched as the soul disappeared into the house.

“That was very kind of you,” Yuri said.

“It was the only thing I could think to do,” she said, and she wasn’t sure Hades would approve but there’d been a lot of people who’d died in the Talaria attack, and they’d left behind loved ones young and old. It wasn’t like she’d offered to deliver a personal message.

She made a mental note to speak to Katerina about starting a fund to help the families of the victims —that was something Hades would approve of.

“It is good to see you,” Yuri said.

“And you,” Persephone said. “I am sorry I have not visited.”

“It is alright,” she said. “We know things are not well above.”

Persephone frowned. “No, they are not.”

She glanced around, realizing that none of the young residents had come running to her as they usually did.

“Where are the children?”

Yuri smiled. “They are in the garden with Tyche,” she said. “She has been reading to them every morning. You should visit. The children would love it.”

She would like to see the children, but she’d also like to visit with Tyche. Still, she worried. Was Tyche ready to answer questions about her death?

“Come, I’ll walk as far as the orchard,” Yuri said. “I was on my way to pick pomegranates when I stumbled upon Angeliki.”

They left the main village, following a path toward a cluster of trees where Yuri stayed to harvest fruit. Beyond the orchard, was the Children’s Garden—which was not a garden at all, but more of park built into the surrounding forest. Since Persephone had come to the Underworld, the space had slowly transformed from a couple of swings and a seesaw to something far more magical and adventurous. It now spanned five acres with slides and sandlots, climbing structures and suspension bridges where the children usually played, but today she found them gathered in clearing and Tyche perched upon a large boulder. She was telling a story in the most animated way—her expressions and voices changing to match the characters as she spoke.

“Prometheus wanted the world to become a better place and instead of spending his days on Mount Olympus, he explored and lived among men who struggled despite all the world’s beauty. One day, Prometheus realized that if only men had fire, they could warm themselves and cook food and learn to make tools. The possibilities were endless!

But when Prometheus went to Zeus and begged him to share fire with mortals, the God of Thunder declined, fearing the strength of mortals. ‘ It is better’, Zeus said, ‘ for mortals to rely on the gods for all they need—let them pray for their needs and we shall grant them.’

But Prometheus disagreed and so he defied Zeus and gave man fire. It took many months for Zeus to look from his perch upon Mount Olympus, but when he did, he saw mortals warming themselves by fires—which were now in hearths, in the homes they had built because Prometheus had given them fire.

Enraged, Zeus chained Prometheus to the side of a mountain as punishment for his treason, but Prometheus was not sad about his sentence, rather he was glad, happy, because he knew that upon the wild Earth, the mortals thrived.”

Tyche’s voice was even, lush, and pleasant and Persephone found that she preferred the end to this version of Prometheus’s story—the truth was far darker. After Prometheus’s trickery, Zeus unleashed Pandora upon the world and gave them both fear and hope—hope, perhaps the most dangerous of weapons.