Interlude 3
Hades
There are some hurts that nothing can fix.
I know that better than most. I spent my entire life believing myself to be an orphan, mourning parents who I didn’t even remember.
Their deaths turned out to be extremely exaggerated—at least when it comes to my father—but now I grieve all those years lost.
It’s nothing compared to what my wife and her sisters are experiencing right now.
They huddle together, a phone passing between them as they commune with Psyche while she travels away from Olympus. They share stories through their tears, honoring their mother’s memory, honoring her sacrifice.
“Do you remember when she tried to learn to knit?” Eurydice hiccups. “That sweater was so ugly.”
“You wore it every fucking day for a month, too.” Hera’s laugh chokes off at the end. “At least the color looked good on you.”
I step out of the room and close the door softly behind me.
Zeus waits in the hallway, looking like he’s about to crawl out of his skin.
We share a moment of pure shared misery.
There isn’t an enemy we can fight and conquer to save our wives from the pain they’re currently experiencing.
Grief can’t be banished through sheer willpower alone.
Even if it could, I doubt Persephone would accept that gift.
Part of grieving is honoring the dead, and she loved her mother dearly, despite Demeter’s many faults.
Zeus sucks in a breath and exhales in a rush. “Demeter had a point. In what she said before she was killed.”
I’m so bloody tired I have to concentrate on not weaving on my feet. “You would buckle now.”
“Hades.” We’re the same age, but he’s always felt younger to me.
When his father was still alive, when he was still Perseus, he presented a cold exterior that felt like it could be shattered with the right pressure.
I watched it happen in real time over the last few months, the pressure tearing him apart.
There’s no sign of buckling now. Steel coats his tone, and his blue eyes are serious. “I know you love your wife.”
I have to fight down the urge to bristle. “More than anything.”
“As much as I love my wife.” He doesn’t move, but it’s as if I can see him evolving into someone new before my eyes. “They don’t understand what it means to be a legacy title. No one who isn’t a legacy title does. It’s our identity, our responsibility, our burden to bear.”
It’s as if he cut to the very heart of me. Hades is the only thing I’ve ever been. I had another name once, but I haven’t even shared it with Persephone. I am only Hades. “Yes.”
He shakes his head sharply. “Fuck. That.”
“Excuse me?”
“Fuck that.” He drags a hand through his blond hair. “I don’t know who I am if I’m not Zeus—or heir to Zeus—but I’m not willing to let Callisto suffer further because of that weakness. If we stay, it’s only a matter of time before she loses more loved ones. I won’t allow it.”
The instinctive response rises inside me. It’s easy for him to say when he’s held the title Zeus for less than a year, when he’s already lost the upper city and failed the people there. The lower city is different. It’s always been different. These people are my…
A wail rises behind the closed door of my study, and the air goes right out of me. That’s Persephone. I would know her pain anywhere, just like I know her pleasure, her love, her happiness. The last has been in short supply in the past few weeks.
My phone buzzes, and I’m pathetically grateful for the distraction. “Yes?”
“Don’t hang up.”
I curse and share a glance with Zeus. “It’s Hermes.” Without thinking too hard about what I’m doing, I put it on speaker. “I’m here with Zeus.”
“Cute. Very enemies to lovers of you.” The words are Hermes, but the tone isn’t jovial in the least. “This saves me a call, so thanks for that.” She sucks in a breath. “I’m giving you the courtesy of a heads-up before I issue a city-wide invitation.”
Exhaustion rolls over me in a wave. I close my eyes. “What are you up to now, Hermes?”
“The same thing I’ve been up to from the start.” It’s strangely vindicating that she sounds just as worn down as I feel. “What I do—what I’ve done—has always been for Olympus. All of Olympus, not just the rich, not just those fortunate enough to be born on the right side of the river. Everyone.”
“Tell us,” Zeus says.
“This message has two parts.” She takes a deep breath.
“In roughly an hour, I’m going to issue an invitation to Olympus.
I want each faction to send delegates—three each from the lower city, the upper city, and the countryside—to the university.
These people will hold the positions temporarily while we set up proper procedures to vote in their replacements.
This will be repeated every four years, with a three-term limit. ”
I open my eyes. “You’re being naive. What’s to stop the Thirteen or legacy families from spending money and influence to monopolize those positions and ensure nothing actually changes?” It’s only after I ask the question that I realize I’m entertaining her plan as an actual possibility.
“Therein lies the second part of the message.” She clears her throat. “Every member of the Thirteen and the legacy families has forty-eight hours to leave Olympus. They’re—you’re—more than capable of clearing out your accounts or transferring your wealth to outside establishments in that time.”
“Where do you expect us to go?” Zeus asks it in a contemplative way, suggesting he’s already considered what he would do in this situation but is expected to play a resisting role in this drama.
“The world is a big place—or small, depending on how you look at it. Go anywhere. Go everywhere. Buy a nice house with pretty grounds for your wife and the bushel of children you’ll no doubt have after this one.
Buy a whole fucking compound for the Dimitriou women to raise families in. You can afford it. They all can.”
The vision hits me with the strength to take me to my knees.
Only sheer determination keeps me standing.
The picture she paints might be brief, but I can see it all the same.
Something like the country house Persephone was raised in, the one that holds so many happy memories from her childhood.
They always felt like a strange sort of fantasy when my wife would relate them to me, her hazel eyes going dreamy.
By contrast, my childhood was the stuff of horror shows.
Orphaned in the same fire that scarred my body.
Forced into a position of power I couldn’t have consented to taking, even if I understood the implications at such a young age.
Groomed by the last Zeus to be compliant, to make myself small so the threat to myself and my people never materialized.
Look at us now. Hiding in the lower city, doing our damnedest to keep the barrier intact.
Just like Olympus has done for the entirety of its history.
The barrier didn’t stop Circe from orchestrating an attack in the lower city a few weeks ago.
I still have healing wounds from that fight, twinges that haven’t quite faded.
If I died…if I left Persephone to go through this pregnancy alone, to birth our twins without me at her side, to raise them to repeat history just like I was raised to repeat history…
I don’t want any of this.
The thought shakes me down to my very bones. I clear my throat. “What are you asking of us?”
“Leave.” She sounds so tired. “Please leave, Hades. I know you don’t consider me a friend at this point, but I care about you.
You deserve to be happy, to raise your children in peace without constantly looking over your shoulder for the next ambitious asshole who sees Olympus as a fruit to be plucked.
Your future kids deserve to grow up happy and careless and not worrying about being groomed to become the next Hades and shoulder the burden you’ve been carrying your whole life.
” She sucks in a breath. “The same goes for you, Zeus. Don’t you want better for your kids than you had?
Don’t you want to give them the freedom of choosing who they want to be without the baggage of a legacy title attached to them? ”
Zeus and I share a look of perfect understanding. Yes. We both want that, even if neither of us has ever dared put it into words.
“Anyway,” she continues. “That’s the message. Like I said, I’ll be issuing the formal invitation in the next hour or so, once I finish making these calls. Just…think about it, Hades. Zeus. Please.” She hangs up.
Zeus is already moving, striding down the hallway.
I don’t need to call after him to know where he’s headed—or at least what he intends.
He’s going to speak with his sisters and then start the process of moving the impressive Kasios wealth to somewhere outside of Olympus.
No hesitation. No wondering about the best course of action.
Simply doing what needs to be done to protect those he cares about.
I envy him in this moment. It’s not something I thought I would ever experience, but the sensation worms through me all the same. Why wouldn’t it be a simple thing for him to shuck off the bullshit and choose correctly?
I don’t want to leave my people in the lurch, once again without a voice…
but if Hermes intends to move forward with her plan, then the lower city will be equally represented.
The very concept boggles my mind. We’ve had to fight and scrape for every single thing we have, and she wants to level the playing field with a single sweep.
I can’t say I approve of her methods, but she paints a tempting picture.
Before I can think too closely about what I’m doing, I slip back into the study and cross to my wife, her pretty eyes puffy from crying, tear tracks on her cheeks. “I have to leave for a little while, little siren.”
“But—”
I catch her reaching hand and press it to my lips. “I’m not going far, and I’m not doing anything that will put me in danger. There are some people in the lower city I need to speak to.” I lean down and kiss her forehead. “Stay with your sisters. If you need anything—”
She sniffs. “I might be grieving, but I’m not helpless, Hades.”
“I know.” And I do. I press one last kiss to her forehead, and then leave the study, closing the door softly behind me.
When it comes down to it, the choice of who to call is a simple one. By the time I make my way to the warehouse district, they’re all waiting for me.
Juliette, the clothing designer who used to be a model in the upper city.
Thanatos and Hypnos, brothers who have been instrumental in keeping my club running smoothly.
Gayle and Matthew, whose respective families have been among the lower city for generations and are valued members of our community.
Medusa and Calypso, refugees from the upper city who have become pillars of the lower city in their relatively short time here.
And Charon, my second-in-command.
I meet each of their questioning gazes in turn.
If I do this, there’s no going back. A part of me wants to change course, to stick to the familiar, even if the weight of this title has grown more suffocating with each passing day.
Still, it’s mine to bear. Passing the burden to someone else—even if it’s a group of people—feels selfish in the extreme.
Once again, I picture my wife’s devastated face. Her mother is dead. The next murder could be one of her sisters. It could be her. Or our children. If I have even the smallest chance of saving her from more pain…of saving myself…
Through the course of my life, I have done anything and everything I could to protect the lower city and allow it to flourish in its own way.
The cost has been high on a personal level, and I’ve never questioned it.
It’s a duty and a privilege to rule. But Persephone’s only sin is loving the man who rules the lower city.
More, if I cling to power because I’m afraid of letting go instead of allowing my people a true chance at representation, then I’m actively holding them back. That, I won’t do. Not even for myself. I take a deep breath. “In a short period of time, Hermes will issue an invitation to all of Olympus…”