Fire was worse than him at saying the wrong things.
“He expressed not a shred of anger when I told him what I’d done,” Aphrodite continued, looking at Hades again. “He works a forge all day and has not an ounce of fire within.”
“Have you considered that he wasn’t angry because he expected it?”
Aphrodite glared, and Hades explained.
“You admitted yourself you’ve never had a marriage, Aphrodite. Why would you expect Hephaestus to mourn what he never had?”
“What do you know, Hades? You’ve never had a marriage, either.”
Hades suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. All of his conversations with Aphrodite ended with her flippantly rejecting his opinion or advice and throwing his own loneliness back in his face.
Why did I try?
“Hephaestus is in his lab,” Aphrodite said. She turned, bare feet moving over the marble steps.
Hades trailed behind her. She did not enter her home, but instead, turned down a walkway that cut through a garden full of bright, tropical flowers and swaths of ornamental grasses. The path lead to a glass bridge that connected the mansion to a volcanic island where Hephaestus kept his shop, carved from the largest mountain.
The workshop contained a forge on the lower level and a lab on the upper level, where he experimented with technology and enchantments. Over the years, the God of Fire had created armor and weapons, palaces and thrones, chains and chariots—and people, among the most famous being Pandora, who he molded and sculpted from clay. She would later be used as a scapegoat, a way for Zeus to punish mankind. Hades had never asked Hephaestus about her fate, but he had a feeling it haunted the god to this day.
“He’s been working on a project. Bees,” Aphrodite said as she walked, and there was a note of admiration in her voice. “They are mechanical, disease resistant.”
Bees were dying at an alarming rate for various reasons—parasites and pesticides, poor nutrition, and environment. The latter had more to do with Demeter than anything, as the Earth tended to suffer when her mood was dark. Hades felt it was a strategic move on the part of the goddess, as a loss of bees meant less food production, which resulted in a reliance on the Goddess of Harvest for healthy crops.
Hephaestus’ creations would ensure mortals—and bees—were not at the mercy of a goddess. Conversely, his creations could be seen as an act of war against the goddess.
“Did Hephaestus tell you this?” Hades asked, curious, because if so, that meant they were communicating.
“No,” Aphrodite said, hesitating for a moment, as if she wanted to say something but stayed quiet.
“So, you were spying?” Hades questioned, raising a knowing brow.
Aphrodite pursed her lips. “How else am I supposed to learn what my husband is up to?”
“You could…ask,” Hades suggested.
“And receive a one-word reply? No, thank you.”
“What did you expect to learn while spying?” Hades asked.
A heavy silence followed his question. Finally, she answered, “I guess I thought he might be cheating.”
Hades could not help it, he paused to laugh. Aphrodite whirled to face him.
“It isn’t funny!” she snapped. “If he isn’t fucking me, he’s fucking someone.”
Hades raised a brow. “Is that what you discovered while you spied?”
Aphrodite’s shoulders fell, and she looked away. “No.”
She seemed disappointed. Like she might have felt better if Hephaestus was distracted by women rather than things.
“Hmm,” Hades hummed, and Aphrodite gave him a bruising look before they continued to the entrance of Hephaestus’ lab.
“The cyborgs will take you to him,” she said.
Hades narrowed his eyes, suspicious of her quick exit. “You’re not going to leave just to spy, are you?”
Aphrodite rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “I have better things to do, Hades.”
He considered challenging her reply, but decided against it, stepping around her and entering Hephaestus’ lab alone.
Inside, he found a cavernous room full of Hephaestus’ inventions—shields, spears, armor, helms, pieces of detailed ironwork, unfinished thrones, robotic humans and horses. At the center of it all, working with his back bent over a wooden table, was the God of Fire. Despite Hephaestus’ modern inventions, his work area and overall aesthetic paid homage to his ancient roots. His blond beard was long, his matching hair pulled back with a leather strap. He worked shirtless, exposing the scars on his skin, and wore a set of trousers that came to mid-calf.
“Lord Hades,” Hephaestus said as he approached, though the god continued to work, soldering a circuit board. Hephaestus was probably the only god who used titles with other gods out