A Touch of Malice (Hades x Persephone #3)(106)

“Yes,” she said, her voice a little high, unsure of what to make of the man’s words or his tone. “What are your names?”

They hesitated.

“That is Thales and that is Callista,” Hades said. “They are children of Apeliotes.”

“Apeliotes?” Persephone did not recognize the name.

“The God of the Southeast Wind,” Hades replied mildly.

Again, their eyes widened.

“Y-you know us?” Callista asked.

Hades looked annoyed. “Of course.”

The two exchanged a look but before they could say anything else, they were interrupted.

“Hades, what are you doing?”

The question came from Aphrodite who had paused at their table. She was dressed in a beautifully pleated gown with an empire, belted waist. The fabric was gold and glistened beneath the light as she moved. Beside her was Hephaestus, who stood stoic and quiet, dressed in a simple gray tunic and black trousers.

“Sitting,” Hades replied.

“But you are at the wrong table.”

“As long as I am with Persephone, I am right,” he replied.

Aphrodite frowned.

“How is Harmonia, Aphrodite?” Persephone asked.

The goddess’s sea-green eyes shifted to meet her gaze. “Fine, I suppose. She has been spending much of her time with your friend Sybil.”

Persephone hesitated. “I think they have become very good friends.”

Aphrodite offered a small smile. “Friends,” she repeated. “Have you forgotten I am the Goddess of Love?”

With that, the two departed. Persephone watched as Hephaestus walked Aphrodite to the Olympian’s table, helped her sit, and then left to find a table for himself.

She turned to Hades. “Do you think Aphrodite is…opposed to Harmonia’s choice of partner?”

“Do you mean is she opposed because Sybil is a woman? No. Aphrodite believes love is love. If Aphrodite is upset, it is because Harmonia’s relationship means she has less time for her.”

Persephone frowned, and for a moment, she thought she could understand how Aphrodite felt. Harmonia’s attack had brought the goddess back into her life and that had meant companionship, and as much as Aphrodite liked to pretend she did not mind her independence, Persephone—everyone—knew she craved attention—specifically the attention of Hephaestus.

“Do you think Aphrodite and Hephaestus will ever reconcile?”

“We can all only hope. They are both completely unbearable.”

Persephone rolled her eyes and nudged him with her elbow, but the God of the Dead only chuckled.

Dinner appeared before them—lamb, lemon potatoes, roasted carrots and eliopsomo—a bread baked with black olives. The smells were savory and made Persephone realize just how hungry she was.

Hades reached for a silver pitcher on the table.

“Ambrosia?” He asked.

She raised a brow. “Straight?”

Ambrosia was not like wine. It was stronger than mortal alcohol. Persephone had only had a small amount in the past—and that had been due to Lexa, who had bought a bottle of Dionysus’s famous wine which had been mixed with a drop of the divine liquid.

“Just a little,” he said, and poured a small amount in her goblet.

Hades filled his own to the brim.

“What?” He asked when he noticed Persephone staring.

“You are an alcoholic,” she said.

“Functioning.”

Persephone shook her head and sipped the ambrosia. The taste filled her mouth with a cool, honeyed sensation.

“Do you like it?” Hades asked, his voice was low, almost sensual, and drew her attention.

“Yes,” she breathed.

Callista cleared her throat and Persephone turned to look at her.

“So, how did you two meet?” She asked.

Hermes snorted, appearing beside Persephone holding his plate and silverware. “You sit before gods and that is the question you choose to ask?”

“Hermes, what are you doing?” Persephone asked.

“I missed you,” he said, and shrugged.

As soon as the God of Mischief sat beside her, Apollo left the Olympian table to sit beside Ajax.

“I think you started a movement, Hades,” Persephone said. One Zeus did not seem happy about as his lips twisted into a scowl.

Hades looked at her and smiled.

“I have a question,” Thales said, grinning, his eyes glinting as he looked at Hades. “How will I die?”

“Horribly,” Hades replied.

The young man’s face fell.

“Hades!” Persephone elbowed him.

“Is-is that true?” The man asked.

“He is just kidding,” Persephone said. “Aren’t you Hades?”

“No,” he replied, his tone far too serious.

They ate in silence for a few awkward minutes until Zeus stood, clanking a gold spoon against a goblet of ambrosia so loud, Persephone thought the glass would shatter.

“Oh no,” Hermes muttered.

“What?” Persephone asked.

“Zeus is going to give a speech. They’re always horrible.”

The room went quiet, and all eyes turned to the God of Thunder.

“We are gathered to celebrate my brother, Hades,” he said. “Who has found a beautiful maiden he wishes to marry, Persephone—Goddess of Spring, Daughter of Dread Demeter.”