The Iron Queen (Daughters of Zeus) - By Kaitlin Bevis Page 0,9

Like last night. But every moment since her capture had lasted eons.

As much as I wanted to hit the ground running in my search for Persephone, I had an entire Underworld’s worth of responsibilities. My realm never weighed so much. To spend any amount of time away, I needed to make arrangements. Cassandra was most likely already on it, but the Underworld had been through quite an upheaval with Thanatos’ death. If I was going to be absent as well, no amount of prophecy could counter logistics.

Cassandra knelt beside a child in the opposite corner of the throne room with…everyone. I frowned. What matter would concern Cassandra, Moirae, Charon, Hypnos, and all the judges? When the door slammed shut behind me, Cassandra jumped to her feet, pushing the boy toward Minos. The child’s eyes were blank with shock. He couldn’t have been more than thirteen, far too young to earn a trip to my realm. Minos wrapped an arm around the child, obstructing all but his messy blond hair from my view.

“Get him settled, please, and then come right back,” Cassandra instructed. Minos nodded, and not one, but all three of the judges escorted the child from the room, footsteps echoing off the high ceilings as their sandaled feet hit the marble floor.

Cassandra caught my quizzical look and shrugged. “Problems adjusting. You just missed the latest of the new souls. It would seem none of us are quite as good with people as you are.”

That was an understatement. With any luck, Cassandra hadn’t caused any psychological scarring with her “Yeah, you’re dead, get over it” speech. She wasn’t a people person. Ordinarily, I greeted the new souls and took special care to deal with any “adjustment problems.” I enjoyed that part of my work. It was one of the few good deeds I could credit myself with. But as much as I’d love to tell myself otherwise, I wasn’t settling in the souls out of the goodness of my heart. Just lack of better alternatives. The other gods had difficulties relating to humans. But those difficulties were nothing compared to the problems the humans in my court had relating to each other. Souls lose something the longer they’re dead. They forget what it was like to worry, to be scared, to be human. Just yesterday, I’d caught Cassandra telling a frightened new soul I’d gone through a dark phase back when Dante passed through, but not to worry. I hadn’t gone off my meds for centuries.

Fucking Dante.

Crossing the large room, I studied each member of my court. I’d done a lot of walking today. Of course I could have teleported within my realm, but I’d needed the time to think over the logistics of being gone and to close all but one guarded entrance into the Underworld. Demeter would post a guard on her side of the realm too, just in case.

It had taken too much time. Every minute I spent down here was a minute away from my search for Persephone and a minute longer she had to spend with Zeus. I knew what he wanted and what lengths he was willing to go through to get it. There was no more time to waste.

I paused at the obsidian throne. It was clear from Cassandra’s face she already knew, and she would have wasted no time telling the others.

“Hades, I’m sorry.” Charon’s gray eyes were so full of concern I couldn’t look at him straight on. I didn’t have time to take solace in the presence of my friends. He looked down at his hands then returned his gaze to mine, all business. “What do you need us to do?”

Moirae, the current embodiment of the Fates, and Hypnos, the God of Sleep and the head of Underworld security, jumped in with condolences. I waved them away. “I need you all to cover things while I find her.”

“Is that wise?” Cassandra leaned against the marble wall and gave me a frank look. “Being away from the Underworld right now?”

“No.” I shoved my hair out of my face and narrowed my eyes at her, daring her to tell me to do otherwise. Pain racked through my entire body, and I knew what was causing it. Zeus was hurting her.

I had to find her.

Cassandra’s thumbnail dug into the cuticle of her middle finger, leaving a white gouge where the living would bleed. She was nervous. The dead didn’t handle stress well.

I took a deep breath to brace myself before asking my prophet