A Touch of Malice (Hades x Persephone #3)(108)

“Where are we?” She asked.

“These are my accommodations,” he said.

She stared at him. “You have a house on Olympus?”

“Yes,” he said. “Though I rarely come here.”

“How many houses do you have?”

She could tell he was counting—which meant he had more than the three she was aware of—his palace in the Underworld, the home on the island of Lampri, and this one here on Olympus.

“Six,” he said. “I think.”

“You…think?”

He shrugged. “I don’t use them all.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

“At this very moment?” He asked. “No.”

“Who manages your estate?” she asked.

“Ilias,” Hades replied.

“Perhaps I should ask him about your empire.”

“You could, but he would tell you nothing.”

“I am certain I could persuade him,” she said.

Hades frowned. “Careful, darling, I’m not opposed to castrating anyone you decide to tease.”

“Jealous?”

“Yes. Very.”

She shook her head, and then there was a knock on the door behind them. Hades groaned and opened the door. The God of Trickery stood opposite them, grinning.

“Dinner wasn’t satisfying enough?”

“Shut up, Hermes,” Hades snapped.

“I was sent to retrieve you,” he said.

“We were just on our way.”

“Sure,” he said. “And I am law-abiding citizen.”

The three left Hades’ residence. Outside the home, they found themselves in a narrow alleyway. The stone walls on either side were covered in flowering ivy. She could hear the music of the celebration, the laughter and murmur of the crowd. They were not far from the temple.

“Why do I get the feeling Zeus does not want Hades and I to wed?”

“Probably because he’s a creep,” Hermes replied. “And would rather have you himself.”

“I am not opposed to murdering a god,” Hades said. “Fuck the Fates.”

“Calm down, Kronos,” he said. “I’m just pointing out the obvious.”

Persephone frowned even deeper.

“Don’t worry, Sephy. Let’s just see what the oracle says.”

Once they had returned, Zeus’s response was immediate.

“Now that you have decided to rejoin us,” he said. “Perhaps you are ready to hear what the oracle will say about your marriage.”

“I am very eager,” Persephone said, glaring at him.

The god’s eyes glinted.

“Then follow me, Lady Persephone.”

They exited the temple, making their way across a courtyard full of beautiful flowers, lemon trees and statues of cherub faced children surrounding goddesses of fertility—Aphrodite, Aphaea, Artemis, Demeter, and Dionysus.

Once they exited, they came to a narrow passage that let out into a barren marble courtyard. At its center was a round temple. Twenty columns surrounded the structure, and it was set high upon a platform. Wide steps lead straight to oak doors—the left engraved with the image of an eagle, the right with the image of a bull. Inside the temple, a basin of oil sat at the center and a set of ten lit torches hung in holders around the room. Overhead, there was an opening in the ceiling where the dark sky peaked through.

Persephone was surprised to find that Hera and Poseidon joined them. Neither of them looked particularly pleased—not Hera with her head tilted stoically, or Poseidon with his thick arms, crossed over his chest.

“My council,” Zeus said, when he saw Persephone hesitate.

“I thought the oracle was your council,” she said.

“The oracle speaks of the future, yes,” Zeus said. “But I have lived a long life and I am aware that the threads of that future are ever-changing. My wife and brother know that, too.”

That was far wiser than Persephone expected—which, she reminded herself, was the danger of Zeus.

She watched as the God of Thunder retrieved a torch from the wall.

“A drop of your blood, if you will,” Zeus said, standing beside the basin. Persephone looked to Hades, who reached for her hand. They approached the basin and as she did, she noticed a sharp needle-like object protruding from the edge. Hades placed his finger upon it and pressed until his blood slide down the gleaming metal. Holding his hand over the basin, he let a drop of blood fall into the oil. She followed his example, wincing as the needle pierced her skin. Once the blood was in the basin, Hades took her hand into his, drawing her finger into his mouth.

“Hades!” She whispered his name, but when he released her hand, the cut was healed.

“I do not wish to see you bleed.”

“It was only a drop,” she whispered.

The god did not reply, but she knew there was no way she could understand how he truly felt, seeing her injured, even so small.

They stepped away from the basin, and Zeus lit the oil. It blazed quickly and burned in an unearthly shade of green. The smoke was thick and billowed. Slowly, the flames began to resemble a person—a woman cloaked in flames.

“Pyrrha,” Zeus said. “Give us the prophecy of Hades and Persephone.”