Hades considered remaining quiet, but Sisyphus’ passive fear of Tartarus angered him, so he answered. “Because, Sisyphus, your existence in Tartarus will be everything you’ve ever feared, everything that ever angered you. You will obtain your empire and then you will lose it, over and over and over again.”
Hades turned over his cards—a king and an ace, twenty-one. A perfect hand.
His eyes lifted to Sisyphus’.
“Turn your cards, mortal.”
There was a beat of silence, and the mortal moved, not to flip his cards, but to draw a weapon, a gun.
Normally, Hades found displays like this amusing, but coming from Sisyphus, it enraged him. His eyes darkened, and the gun melted in the mortal’s hand, coating his skin in burning metal. His screams filled the room, piercing and agonizing. He fell to his knees, holding his hand aloft, eyes bulging out of his head.
Hades sighed and leaned forward, turning the mortal’s cards.
A five of clubs and a nine of hearts—fourteen.
Hades stood, drained his glass, and straightened his jacket. Sisyphus cupped his arm against his chest, sweaty and breathing hard. He looked up at Hades, hatred in his eyes.
“Cheater,” he accused.
Hades smirked. “Takes one to know one.”
He snapped his fingers, sending Sisyphus to Tartarus, and strolled out of the suite.
***
A week later, Hades found himself in Hephaestus’ lab. He had put this off for as long as possible, dreading his return to the God of Fire after what he had asked him to make only a few weeks ago.
When the god handed him a small box, Hades peered inside. The ring he had commissioned sat on a pillow of black velvet. It was a beautiful, delicate thing, despite the numerous flowers and gems decorating the band, and it brought with it the pain and embarrassment he felt at losing Persephone. Perhaps if he had not been so presumptuous, perhaps if he had not had this ring made, he would have her now.
“It is beautiful,” Hades said, snapping the box closed. “But I no longer require it.”
Hades met Hephaestus’ gaze, and the god raised his brows.
“I will pay you handsomely for your work,” Hades continued, holding out his hand. He returned the ring to Hephaestus.
“You will not take it?”
Hades shook his head. It was a symbol of what he might have had, of a future that was no longer on the horizon, and he could not bear to see it or know that it existed in the same realm as he did.
“I will not ask you why you no longer want the ring. I can guess well enough,” The God of Fire said. “But I will not accept payment for something you do not wish to keep.”
“Would you rather I take it?”
“No.” Hephaestus smiled. “I have a feeling it would end up in the ocean, and I have doubts about you asking Poseidon to retrieve it when you want it again.”
CHAPTER XXXI – TO CLAIM A QUEEN
Hades watched from a distance as Persephone walked across the grand stage at her graduation. She looked beautiful, her honeyed hair gleaming beneath the bright sun, her skin glistening like gold, and a smile curving her perfect lips.
“She looks so…happy,” Hades said, more to himself than anyone else, but Hecate was there to answer.
“Of course she’s happy. She just spent four years in purgatory.”
“College, Hecate,” Hermes corrected. “I think you mean college.”
“Same thing,” she shot back.
“She invited me to the afterparty,” Hermes said with a grin, and Hades tried not to smirk when Hecate elbowed him in the ribs.
“Ouch! Stop!”
He tracked Persephone as she left the stage, holding onto her hat as the wind blew. It picked up her scent and carried it to him, leaving him feeling hollow. It was then she paused and looked in their direction.
“Oh, oh! I think she sees us!” Hermes waved.
“She can’t see us, we’re invisible!” Hecate said, elbowing him in the ribs again.
“Watch it, Hecate! I’ll turn you into a goat!”
“Just try, feather feet!”
Hades sighed and rolled his eyes at the two, but quickly focused on Persephone again. She seemed troubled, a line forming between her brows and the corners of her mouth dropping. It was in that moment he thought he saw the truth of her heart—she was just as devastated as he was. It was almost unbearable, and the thread that still connected them throbbed in his chest.
He ached for her, wanted her, loved her.
“Go to her,” Hecate encouraged.
“She would deny me,” Hades said.
“Maybe,” Hermes replied.
Hecate raised her arm again, and the god flinched,