A Touch of Malice (Hades x Persephone #3)(39)

“Ostrakinda!”

It was strange, almost heart-wrenching, to hear their requests, mostly because Persephone could tell how long they’d been in the Underworld by their choices.

“Well, I suppose it’s just a matter of which we shall play first,” Hades replied.

Then he looked up and met Persephone’s gaze. That smile—the one that made her heart stir because it was so rare and yet so genuine—remained in place.

With his gaze, came many others. Some of the children who had been too shy to approach Hades, came to her, taking each of her hands.

“Lady Persephone, please play!”

“Of course,” she laughed. “Hecate? Yuri?”

“No,” Hecate said. “But I shall watch and drink wine from the sidelines.”

They moved to an open space close to the picnic area Yuri and the souls had arranged and played most of the games the children had suggested—hide and seek—which was far too easy for Hades as he liked to turn invisible just as he was about to be found which meant by the time they moved on to playing Blind Man’s Bluff, Persephone had declared that Hades could not be ‘it’ as he would use his powers to find them on the field. Their final game was Ostrakinda, an Ancient Greek game where they split into teams—one representing night and one representing day which corresponded with the white and black colors on a shell that was tossed into the air. Depending on which side turned upward, one team would chase the other.

Persephone had never played the game before, but it was simple enough. The biggest challenge would be escaping Hades—because as he stood opposite her on team night, she knew he had his sights set upon her.

Between them, a boy named Elias held a giant shell in his hand. He bent his knees and jumped, sending it flipping into the air. It landed with a thud in the grass, white side up, and there was chaos as the children dispersed. For a second, Persephone and Hades remained in place, eyes locked. Then, a predatory grin crossed the god’s face and the Goddess of Spring whirled. As she did, she felt Hades finger’s ghost across her arm—he’d already been so close to capturing her.

She sprinted—the grass was cool beneath her feet and her hair breezed behind her, she felt free and reckless as she turned to glance over her shoulder at Hades who was gaining on her, and she suddenly recalled that she had not felt this way since before Lexa’s accident. The thought faltered her steps, and she came to a stop, altogether—her high crushed beneath the weight of guilt.

How could she have forgotten? Her face heated and a thickness gathered in her throat that brought tears to her eyes.

Hades came to her side. Recognizing something was wrong, he asked, “Are you well?”

It took her a moment to answer—a moment where she worked to swallow the tears gathering behind her eyes and suppress the tremble in her throat.

“I just remembered that Lexa was not here.” She looked at Hades. “How could I have forgotten?”

Hades’ expression was grim, his eyes pained.

“Oh, darling,” he said, and pressed his lips to her forehead. It was enough because it was comfort. He took her hand and lead her to the picnic area where the souls had now gathered to feast. Yuri showed them where they were to sit—at the very edge of the field upon a blanket that was weighted down with the same lanterns and bouquets that decorated the road. The basket was full of foods and wineskins, offering a sampling of the culture in Asphodel.

They feasted, and the meadow was full of happy chatter, laughter, and the delighted screams of children. Persephone watched the scene, her heart full. These were her people, but most importantly, they were her friends. The urge to protect and provide for them was almost primal—it was that impulse that surprised her, but it was also how she knew she wanted to be Queen of the Underworld—because taking on that title meant something far more than royalty. It was responsibility, it was caring, it was making this realm an even better, more comforting space.

“What are you thinking?” Hades asked.

She glanced at him and then at her hands. She held a wheat roll and had been breaking off pieces, her lap was covered in crumbs. She sat it aside and brushed them away.

“I was just thinking about becoming queen,” she said.

Hades offered a small smile. “And are you happy?”

“Yes,” she said. “Of course. I was just thinking of how it will be. What we will do together. If, that is, Zeus approves.”

Hades’ lips thinned. “Just keep planning, darling.”

She did not ask him any more questions about Zeus because she knew what he would say—we will marry despite Zeus—and she believed him.

“I would like to speak about earlier,” Hades said. “Before we were interrupted, you asked if I trusted you.”

She could tell by his expression that her question had hurt his feelings. She hesitated to speak, searching for the words to explain herself.

“You did not think I’d come to you when Hermes summoned me to Lemnos,” she said. “Tell me, truthfully.”

Hades clenched his jaw before answering, “I did not.”

Persephone frowned.

“But I was more concerned about Aphrodite. I know what she wants from you. I worry you will try to investigate and identify Adonis and Harmonia’s attackers on your own. It isn’t because I don’t trust you, but because I know you. You want to make the world safe again, fix what is broken.”