eyes staring at the mortal men who held swords at their sides.
“What?” she whispered. “Why would any mortals desecrate your temple?”
Artemis flexed her arms with a snarl. “I must have made someone angry. But they will quickly learn I am not the goddess to anger.”
Kore hadn’t anticipated a fight on their walk, but here they were. Artemis would rip the men apart with her bare hands for killing her sacred animals. “Should I get Mother?”
The huntress drew her bow and released an arrow. It flew through the air with a sharp whistle and caught one of the mortals in the throat. She could hear his gurgle as he whirled, reached a hand out for another man before falling onto his face in the dirt.
The grin on Artemis’s face was dangerous. It wasn’t the expression of an avenging goddess, but of pure darkness radiating from her very soul.
“No,” Artemis replied. “I’m going to get my brother and we’re going to have a little fun.”
She disappeared, leaving Kore with an army of mortal men before her. She wasn’t even sure they saw her, but then they turned as one and Kore realized just how alone she was. Very, very alone.
Chapter 8
Hades shouldn’t have been following her. He shouldn’t have even been thinking about her, lest Demeter sever his head from his shoulders. He knew just how dangerous the harvest goddess could be.
But he couldn’t keep his mind off Kore. He couldn’t stop remembering the way the narcissus had grown between their hands. His symbol. That was the only flower that grew in the Underworld. She must have known it was special to him.
So, he’d followed her. He wasn’t proud of it, but it made him feel better to watch over her. Just in case. What if someone tried to attack her?
He had no question she could protect herself. The power that welled inside her was clearly passed down from Zeus, although he hated to admit it. His brother was the worst sort of father.
There was also the slightest hint of Demeter in Kore, less than he’d expected. Sure, she parroted her mother’s words like a good little daughter. But there was a fire inside her that rivaled the sun itself. Helios would have been proud to know at least someone still held the sun’s power inside them.
When she left the columned home Demeter had given her, he assumed Artemis would take care of her. He’d almost left to return to the Underworld, knowing the huntress was rather boring. They likely were going to wander to the temple and watch the nymphs frolic. Hades had little patience for frolicking.
Then Kore had argued. Artemis had been ranting about the benefits of being a virgin goddess—ridiculous—and Kore hadn’t stood for it at all. It was like her patience had run thin and she was finally that goddess he’d known she could be. The one he’d seen underneath the veneer her mother had painted.
Hades stayed.
Especially when he saw all the blood on Artemis’s temple and knew what that meant. She would fly off the handle and Kore might be caught in the crossfire. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt her.
Except... This was perhaps the opportunity he’d been waiting for. The moment to see just how much this goddess had buried inside her.
It was a risk. She might need his help still, and of course, he would offer it if she asked. But she could also do so much more than she even knew.
Hades slipped his famed helm over his head. The magic within it allowed him to become invisible, even to the eyes of the gods. No one would see him. Not even her.
He strode toward the temple at her side, ready to thrust aside any mortal who tried to harm her. The men ignored her as well, however. Perhaps she had some trick that made her invisible, although he’d never heard of another god who could do what he did. The humans merely didn’t see her as a threat.
Breaking his own rule of invisibility, he whispered in her ear, “Why are you not stopping them?”
Kore’s eyes were wide and full of tears. One slipped down her cheek as she stooped and touched a hand to a dead deer’s muzzle. “Why would they do this? I don’t understand. The gods are here to help them.”
But she knew that wasn’t true. She had to.
Hades could tell her a thousand stories of the gods harming humans. They didn’t care about mortal lives. No god was here to make their