lord.”
“Show her to my office,” Hades instructed. He started to walk away, but paused. “And Minthe, I am your king, and you shall address me as such. My given name is not for you to speak.”
Hades crossed the floor of his club with Minthe on his heels. The nymph grabbed his arm, and Hades whirled to face her.
“You forget your place,” he hissed.
She did not even flinch, just stared at him with furious eyes. She was undaunted by his anger, fearless of his wrath.
“Any other time, you would have agreed with me!” she snapped.
“I have never agreed with you,” he said. “You have assumed you understand how I think. Clearly, you do not.”
He turned from her and headed upstairs, but the nymph continued to follow.
“I know how you think,” the nymph said. “The only thing that’s changed is Per—”
Hades turned on her again and lifted his hand. He was not sure what he had intended to do, but he ended up clenching his fist.
“Do not say her name.” The words slipped between his teeth, and he spun, throwing open the door to his office.
He sensed Persephone and Hermes inside, but did not see them. Years of existing in battle kept him from hesitating in the doorway, but he was on edge and he could not deny that the thought of them hiding in this room together sent him spiraling.
Why are they in here together to begin with? Is this why he did not locate her on the floor earlier?
He gritted his teeth harder than necessary.
“You are wasting your time!” Minthe bit out, pulling him from his thoughts and redirecting his frustration. He wondered what she was referring to—the mortal or Persephone?
“It’s not like I’m running out,” Hades snapped.
Minthe’s lips flattened. “This is a club. Mortals bargain for their desires; they do not make requests of the God of the Underworld.”
“This club is what I say it is.”
The nymph glared. “You think this will sway the goddess to think better of you?”
His eyes narrowed, and he snarled as he spoke. “I do not care what others think of me, and that includes you, Minthe. I will hear her offer.”
Her severe expression relaxed, eyes widening, and she stood in stunned silence for a moment before leaving without another sound.
Hades was glad he had a few seconds to get a grip on his anger, and it was even more important because he was aware that he had an audience. Persephone’s and Hermes’ magic brushed the edges of his own, igniting his blood in a way that made him want to rage, but before he could spiral, the doors to his office opened and a mortal woman entered.
She was disheveled, like she had dressed hastily. The neckline of her sweater draped off one shoulder, and she wore a long coat that made her body look like a balloon. Despite her haphazard appearance, she held her head high and he sensed determination beneath her broken spirit.
Still, she froze when she saw him, and he hated the way it made his chest feel. He knew why he was the enemy of the world above—because he was shouldered with the blame for taking all loved ones away, because he had done nothing to contradict those ancient beliefs about his hellish realm, but that never bothered him until tonight.
“You have nothing to fear.”
Her voice shook as she laughed. “I told myself I wouldn’t hesitate. I wouldn’t let fear get the best of me.”
Hades tilted his head to the side. There were very few moments in his life when he felt true compassion for a mortal, but he felt it now for this woman. The core of her soul was good and kind and…simple. She wanted for nothing but peace, and yet she had the opposite.
Hades spoke in a quiet voice. “But you have been afraid. For a very long time.”
The woman nodded, and tears spilled down her face. She brushed at them fiercely, hands shaking, and offered that nervous laugh again. “I told myself I wouldn’t cry, either.”
“Why?”
“The Divine are not moved by my pain.”
She was right, he was not moved by her pain, but he was moved by her strength.
“I suppose I cannot blame you,” she continued. “I am one in a million pleading for myself.”
She was one of a million who had made the same request, and yet, this one was still different.
“But you are not pleading for yourself, are you?”
The woman’s mouth quivered, and she answered in a whisper, “No.”
“Tell me.”
“My daughter.” The words were