Chapter One
Hecate
Thousands of years before the events of Strife’s Apple
If not for Persephone’s screams, I might not have sought the Olympians out again for centuries. Certainly, I hadn’t wanted to.
After the great war—the Titanomachy—I have been wary to put myself in these marbled halls. My fellow titans still sting with their defeat, and they whisper amongst themselves about my betrayal when they believe I cannot hear.
If they expect me to regret my choices, I do not. It had been the right thing to do. The reign of Chronos had been monstrous. Ending it had been for the greater good.
But I am always aware of the line I walk.
Now—in what most Titans see as an insult—one of the sons of Chronos sits on the throne of Olympus, another the sea, but it is the third who rankles my kind the most. He is also the reason I find myself here today.
Hades has Persephone, the daughter of Zeus and Demeter. A goddess no one but her mother has been searching for since she was abducted nine days ago.
It shouldn’t be my business, but the goddess had screamed. Had cried for help. And no one so far has answered.
Certainly, they do not seem to be interested in helping. No one from Gaia has so much as approached the adamantine gates to the Underworld.
And on Gaia itself, the world has stilled, blanketed in white.
In retaliation for everyone’s ennui, Gaia has been gripped by winter. Demeter’s doing. A protest against those who will not seek her missing child. A child I know the location of.
Now we must see what Zeus will do about it. Deep in my gut, I fear it won't be much.
Titans, even his own father are one thing. Goddesses taken by his brother are quite another. Even if said goddess is his own child.
I walk into throne room at Demeter’s side. She is weary, her long hair in disarray, her chiton ragged and dirty from her wanderings. If she were mortal, there would be dark shadows under her eyes, but even immortal as she is, her brilliance dims with the force of her grief.
It is her insistence I come here, since I told her what I knew. I must bear witness to Zeus, so he will act. Saying no to the hope in her eyes had been simply impossible. Even if I am more skeptical.
The open marble hall is as it were when I was here last. There are more thrones than I remember.
More Olympian gods to join their ranks. But otherwise, it is unchanged, right down to the bearded god in the throne at the far end.
Thankfully, he is the only god present. His jealous wife would only complicate matters.
Zeus rises to his feet at the sight of us. “O, bright one,” he says, coming greet me. “You honor us.”
Bright one, they call me here. It’s a name like any other, but it doesn’t fit, irritating like sand on my skin.
From Zeus, I should expect flattery. This is well known for his amorous pursuits, but he’s never shown me anything less than the utmost respect.
I cant my head in deference. “Mighty Zeus.”
“She brings news of our daughter, Zeus. Of Persephone.”
Zeus’ eyes, dark as storm clouds, widen. “Do you? Tell us? What is this news?”
Demeter nods in my direction, offering her encouragement. The hope in her eyes is painful to witness, the way they never leave my face, as though all of creation hangs on my next words.
For her, it does.
For her sake, for Persephone’s, I speak my truth. “I heard Persephone down in the Underworld. Hades has her. He’s taken her as his bride.”
Demeter cries, all the pent up emotion spilling over like water over the shore at high tide, rushing and inexorable. “My daughter, in that lifeless place. Zeus. I cannot stand it. Rescue her, bring her home.”
But my eyes are on Zeus. His narrow, shrewd, but not surprised. Not nearly surprised enough for a god who has just heard his brother kidnapped his precious daughter.
He sighs and shakes his head, dark curly hair moving with him. He turns back to his throne and sinks back down into it like the king he is before he bothers to answer us. “That is a complicated matter. Hades is king there. Even my power has no influence in the Underworld.”
“She is your daughter,” Demeter begins, sparks of anger practically flying from her as she balls her hands into fists, “and if you ever want to see this land green again, you will retrieve her. Now.”
“And how do you propose I do that, Demeter? Storm the gates? Let our powers leech away while he laughs at us from his palace?” He waves a hand, dismissing the idea. “We do not have the means.”
He’s far too calm, leaning back and stroking his beard as though lost in thought. My hackles rise along with the hair on the back of my neck. Zeus is not king of the gods—his father beaten and in Tartarus—because he isn’t cunning.
There is something afoot.
Demeter has caught on as well, or perhaps she is only grasping at the only straws she can see. Her gaze once more slides my way, her expression imploring. “Hecate. You can travel there. You know where she is.”
“Not alone,” Zeus answers before I can—not that any words are coming, my mouth is full of water—“You are incredibly powerful, Bright One. Capable, but you are not an official emissary of this kingdom.”
I unstick my tongue. “No, I am not.” Nor would I want to be. Entanglements with these gods is best done sparingly.
For the end of Chronos, for Persephone, it is worth the bother. But I am not here to make myself a pawn to Olympus.
“But then who?” Demeter’s bare feet patter against the marble floor as she crosses the great hall to Zeus. “If you’ve some grand thought, tell us now. Or I will rip the gates apart with my bare hands and throw you down into the pits.”
I don’t doubt she could do it either. A mother’s determination cannot be underestimated.
Rhea’s bravery is how they are all here today and not in the belly of Chronos.
Zeus waves another hand, beckoning to someone off in the shadows.
A tall, lean god comes to stand at Zeus’ side.
My heart squeezes the air from my lungs at the sight of him.
His hair, the color of honey in the jar, glints in the sunlight slanting down from the high windows.
His jaw line sharp enough to cut, in contrast to the plushness of his mouth, but it’s his eyes—like the sea in a storm—that catch and hold me captive as they stare at me openly, laying me open like a book.
I’m not the sort of goddess for longings. God or goddess, they simply don’t interest me. The thoughts of touching, being touched are foreign, undesired.
Or perhaps, I simply have never been moved before.
“Bright One, have you met my newest son, Hermes?” Zeus’ voice snaps me from my thoughts, and I force my gaze from Hermes just as his lips quirk up.
“I haven’t.” My throat has gone dry. I swallow.
But I have heard of him. Hermes, the newest god to join the Olympians, is a trickster. Stole his brother Apollo’s precious kine fresh out of the womb. Then earned his forgiveness with the creation of a musical instrument. It’s said the first notes of the lyre brought Apollo to tears.
The sort of god who compels, if not the kind to be trusted.
He nods, as unsurprised by this by hearing his daughter is in the Underworld. “He is young, but he is capable. I want you to escort him to deliver my word to Hades.”
“And that word is?” Demeter asks, iron in her voice.
“To release our daughter and return her to our mother,” Zeus replies as though it were obvious.
It isn’t. Even less so is why he thinks Hades will obey him, being a king in his own right.
“And if he refuses?” Hermes’ voice is just as honeyed as his hair, and the low tenor fills my ears like music.
I am losing my mind.
“He won’t,” Zeus says, far too sure of himself for my taste.
Demeter and I exchange glances. What choice do we have? She’s wandered the world and is no closer to Persephone, and we cannot act on our own.
“I’ll go, father,” Hermes says and then turns towards me, the full force of his grey gaze on me now. “If you’re ready for travel.”
Travel. With Hermes. Alone. Suddenly, I’d much rather face down Hades myself. The thought of being alone with him turns my stomach and unleashes a swarm of butterflies inside it.
“Yes, of course,” I find myself saying, stumbling over the words like a child just learning to speak.
If Hermes notices, he doesn’t point it out but his mouth quirks up at the corner in half smile that turns my knees weak.
“Aunt,” he says to Demeter. “Please don’t despair. We will bring your daughter back to you.”
I’m less certain of it, but Demeter takes his words to heart, wishing us good fortune as Hermes leads me out and back down the halls of the palace.
Leaving us alone.
His hand brushes the small of my back, a guiding gesture, but one I should pull away from. My skin burns from the casual contact, and I shiver. The torches around us seem to flicker in response, as though they know the thoughts swirling inside me, the way my ichor courses.
But I don’t pull away.
“What will be the easiest path to the Underworld?” he asks me, his voice a low, pleasant rumble in my ears, mine alone.
I like the thought of that far too much.
It’s enough to make me pull free.
“Once we reach the nearest crossroads, I should be able to open the way.” Of course, the nearest crossroads were down below Mt Olympus.
It was a safety measure, putting a stop gap between Olympus, Gaia, and the Underworld itself, but it also could be inconvenient.
We would have to travel down, however long that may take.
As we step out into the courtyard, the gates of Olympus gleaming in the morning sun, Boreas, The North Wind blows, bringing a fresh chill. I shiver under my cloak.
A very long time.
Hermes comes up beside me, frowning at the weather. “Well, this won’t do.”
Then he slides his arms around me, his chest against my back.
“What are you doing?”
“I have no desire to be caught out in Boreas’ cold embrace any longer than necessary.” His arms tighten around my waist, and I find myself gripping his forearms as he leans in to whisper in my ear. “You don’t fear heights, do you?”
“I fear nothing,” I insisted, but it wasn’t true.
This closeness of his. My response to it. It frightens me a great deal.
He chuckles, all warm amusement, and turns me in his arms so we are facing one another. My arms tingle as he draws his fingers down them, directing me to wrap them around his neck.
“Then hold on tight, Hecate.”