For the Love of Hades (Loves of Olympus 2)

As they drew close to the Chamber, Demeter’s hand tightened on her forearm. Persephone forced a smile, hoping it would ease her mother, for it did not ease her. Demeter’s brow dipped ever so slightly, but she said nothing. Instead she patted Persephone’s arm.

Voices spilled into the hallway, echoing off the walls of the Council Chamber within.

“They’re back,” her mother said, smiling more brightly.

This time Persephone would not have to work so hard to find her smile. With Hermes returned, she might not feel so alone, so out of place.

Apollo, Ares, Hermes… they’d been gone since she arrived. And while she had no opinion of Apollo, she feared Ares more than a little. She had missed Hermes, but was wary of him now. She did not want to speak of Hades. While all on Olympus assumed Hermes indifferent to Hades, Persephone knew the truth. And she knew she was not strong enough to hear news of Hades, missing her not at all.

Her mother’s pace quickened as they entered the Chamber, but Persephone held back. Her mother released her then, moving to greet the returned Gods with warmth and sincerity.

Persephone’s heart hardened. Of course he would not be here. She was foolish to hope… She’d not known she’d hoped. She wrapped her arms about her waist.

She circled the room, absentmindedly making her way to the place she sat on the opposite side of the chamber. Her fingers moved over the marble, the fervor of conversation eventually reaching her.

“He is free, then?” Her mother’s frightened voice drew her attention.

“Peace, Demeter,” Zeus soothed. “A shade can do no harm to her.”

“We live in the light,” Hera agreed.

Persephone saw Hermes look at her, but she turned from him. If she looked at him, if their eyes met, would he see the truth? He’d taken pains to hold his peace, but for how long? Hades’ warning still rang in her ears. Trust was not a wise choice amongst the Olympians. She could not trust herself yet, she should not expect it from others. She continued slowly, eager to find her seat.

“And Hades?” Athena asked. “He is recovered?”

She froze. Recovered? She turned, searching out Hermes. He was waiting, his brow furrowed and his expression troubled.

“’Tis a foul poison,” Ares grumbled. “And Hades was a fool…”

Ares’ gaze settled on her, narrowing. She met his gaze, narrowing her eyes alike. Hades was no fool.

“He’s not meant for battle. He’s too easily inflamed and distracted,” the God of War continued, his gaze sweeping Persephone from head to toe.

She lifted her chin, refusing to be cowed by his brazen inspection. She reached her mother’s throne then and leaned against it for support.

Poseidon laughed. “Inflamed?”

Apollo shrugged, casting a brief glance upon Poseidon. “So it would seem.”

“But his wounds?” Aphrodite asked. “He was injured?”

Persephone gripped the throne back in front of her. Injured?

Ares nodded, his attention returning to the others. “Two spears.” His fingers pressed against his hip. “Here…” His hand moved, pressing against his shoulder blade– “…and here. He was speared through, pinned to a tree when I came upon him.”

She would not falter. She would not collapse.

“He pulled one free himself,” Ares went on, “But I had to cut through the other.”

She swayed, pressing her face to the cool marble throne.

“It would be no great matter,” Apollo said with a shrug, “But Erysichthon tipped the spears with poison. From a viper. A nasty toxin, eating flesh and causing fever.”

She clung to the chair, speaking without thought. “He will recover?”

All eyes turned to her.

Apollo smiled, his forehead crinkling as he did so. “He will recover.”