A Touch of Chaos (Hades x Persephone Saga Book 7)

Persephone was just buttoning her jeans when Hades entered the room. She was trying hard to breathe through her frustration, knowing that only a few hours earlier, he’d brought his mother to the Underworld, but it was difficult, because if he’d had the choice, he wouldn’t have admitted that his wound had worsened. After all they’d been through, he was still keeping the truth from her.

“You’re upset,” Hades said.

For some reason, that made her even angrier. She gritted her teeth and refused to look at him.

“Persephone,” he said as she reached for the shirt that she’d tossed on the bed.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, sliding the tank over her head.

“I didn’t tell you how I was feeling because I didn’t want you to worry,” he said.

She froze and looked at him and let her anger blossom. She had warned him.

“You didn’t want to worry me?” she asked. “Did you think the worry just stops and starts on your command?”

He was still and expressionless, but Persephone got the sense that he realized how stupid he sounded.

“You never tell the truth,” she said.

His expression darkened. His anger slammed into her, a quick and violent thing.

“I haven’t lied to you,” he said.

“You don’t have to lie to not tell the truth,” she said and then shook her head. She almost felt unable to communicate how this had made her feel, but she needed to say it all the same. “I recognized it when I found out about Theseus’s favor,” she said, noting how Hades’s body seemed to grow rigid. “And in the moment, it was shocking but nothing compared to what followed, so I didn’t think long on it. But then there was Zofie and the belt. Zofie who worked as my aegis. Zofie was my companion, and I knew nothing about how she came to be in your care, but I told myself to honor her privacy. Then I watched you argue with Ariadne, which made me realize that you have been involved in this fight with Theseus far longer than I ever knew. And now you pretend you aren’t in pain from a wound that has become infected overnight. If you were concerned about my feelings at all, you would have told me. Everything. Because this…finding out like this, hurts worse than any of those things would have.”

Once the words were out, she felt less burdened. She had not realized how heavily they had been sitting on her heart until now, just building while she tried to survive. She was supposed to be his equal, his queen, but instead, he coddled her. And he didn’t seem to understand that his choices left her vulnerable.

Hades looked…haunted.

The silence between them was loud, almost unbearable. She felt as if a chasm separated them, and it was full of all his secrets, which honestly felt like lies, and Hades had to cross it or they would not survive.

“The wound hurts like a motherfucker,” he said at last. “And I haven’t looked at it because I don’t want to know the truth.”

Persephone just stared.

“I don’t know why I didn’t tell you any of those things,” he said. “Maybe I thought none of this would bleed into your life, that I could prevent it before it became our life, and then you would never have to know the horror of what is coming.”

Persephone took a step toward him. “When I chose you, I chose everything, Hades—your people, your realm, your enemies,” she said. “The only thing I fear is not having you at my side.”

Hades took her face between his hands and leaned closer.

“I am at your side,” he said. “I will never leave again.”

“Is that a promise?” she whispered. She knew it couldn’t be, not really, yet she wanted him to say it all the same.

“It is an oath,” he said and brought his lips to hers.

Before they left for Ares’s island, Persephone visited Harmonia. As soon as she walked into the room, she knew something was wrong. The air was stifling, thick with sickness, and she was immediately reminded of visits to Lexa in the hospital.

It reminded her of death.

Dread built in the back of her throat, and then she saw Harmonia and went cold.

The goddess was pale, her lips colorless, and she was covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

Sybil lay beside her, and Aphrodite sat on the other side, while Opal was whimpering at her feet. They were both crying.

Hecate stood near, her expression sorrowful.

“No,” Persephone whispered.

“She is not yet gone,” said Hecate. “But it won’t be long. I have done everything I can.”

“We’ll get the fleece in time,” Persephone said.

I promise, she wanted to add but could not bring herself to speak the words aloud.

Aphrodite shifted to face her, vigorously wiping tears from her swollen face.

“Be careful, Persephone,” she said. “Ares is a cruel god.”

Any hope Persephone had had that she might sway Ares with Aphrodite’s suffering suddenly vanished at her warning.

“I thought he was your friend,” she said.

Aphrodite’s gaze shifted to Harmonia as she answered in a whisper.

“Perhaps he isn’t anymore.”

Hecate approached. “It is true that Ares is cruel, but he is also a coward. If you wound him, he will run.”

“I thought he was the God of Courage,” Persephone said.

Hecate smiled. “He is, but he is also the god of its opposite.”

Persephone left the suite. Once she stepped into the hallway, she felt like she could breathe again. The air was cool and cleansing, yet it did not ease her anxiety.

Harmonia had taken a turn for the worse and quickly.

Now she worried that Hades would too.

She continued down the hall and found her husband waiting in the foyer, and though she had expected him, she was surprised by the way he was dressed. He wore a pair of dark tactical pants and a gray shirt that only seemed to draw attention to his chest and shoulders. His hair was wet and pulled into a bun at the back of his head. It seemed ridiculous to say, but she found this version of Hades incredibly attractive.

She had expected him to show up in a suit, no matter how impractical.

“What is it?” Hades asked, suddenly concerned.

“What?” she asked, surfacing from her thoughts.

“You’re staring. Is it the shirt?” he asked, pulling at the fabric. “Hermes said this would be appropriate.”

“It isn’t the shirt, Hades,” Persephone said, laughing.

“She thinks you’re hot, you idiot,” said Hermes as he approached. “For someone who gets laid so often, you are really fucking oblivious.”

He was wearing skintight biker shorts and a bright green shirt. Hippolyta’s belt was cinched tight around his waist.

“Gods, you’re like a fucking beacon,” said Hades. “Ares is going to see you coming from the shore.”

Hermes crossed his arms over his chest. “I didn’t realize we were conducting a sneak attack.”

“Why are you wearing a fanny pack?” Persephone asked, noticing the small pouch hanging low on his waist.

“It’s for my snacks,” he said.

They both stared.

“Judge all you want, but when you get hungry, I’m not sharing.”

“I hope we’re not there long enough to be hungry,” Persephone said.

“How is that even possible? I am always hungry.”

Hades sighed as if he was already annoyed.

“When we arrive at the island, we will take every precaution. No killing, no teleporting. I do not wish to anger Ares any more than we already will just by being in his territory.”

“Would he risk divine punishment by denying a favor?” Persephone asked.

“I am more concerned that he will see you as a prize. I’d rather approach hospitably. Perhaps he will extend the same to us.”

“Yeah, right,” said Hermes. “Ares doesn’t know the meaning of hospitality.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Hades said.

Persephone felt Hades’s magic rise and wrap around her, familiar and dark, an electric energy that brought her comfort despite the dread she felt as they vanished.

“This is it?” Hermes asked.

They stood ankle-deep in the ocean, staring at Ares’s island, which was far smaller than Persephone expected. It reminded her of a hill that had grown out of the ocean. A shore scattered with rocks and clamshells led into a thicket of trees and beyond that, higher ground where all she could see was patchy earth.

“If he is using this place to try to impress people, no wonder he’s single, because it is dis-a-point-ouch!”

Hermes jerked beside her, his hand clamping down on his shoulder.

“What the fuck?” he said as he plucked what looked like a dart from his arm. A perfect line of blood dripped down his golden skin.

“Is that a feather?” Persephone asked.

Hermes’s face twisted into a look of disgust. He met Persephone’s gaze and then jerked again as another feather-like dart struck his opposite shoulder.

“Seriously?” Hermes demanded.

“Fuck,” Hades said. “Not again.”

At first she was confused and then she noticed movement from the trees as a bird shot from the leafy canopy. It moved quickly, soaring like a spear launched by a god. It was followed by a second bird and then another, and suddenly, there were hundreds, and with them came a spray of thin, feathered darts.

“Wanna take back that rule about not killing anything, Hades?” Hermes asked.

“Run,” said Hades, grabbing Persephone’s hand.

They took off across the shore toward a cluster of large rocks. Hades tried to shield her from the onslaught of needlelike barbs, but they were too numerous. She gritted her teeth as each one hit, pulling handfuls of feathery darts from her arms and legs as she ran, only finding relief when they managed to scramble behind the rocks, which the birds flew past in a dizzying blur of white.

Hades held her against him, his hands placed protectively over her head. For a few brief moments, all she could hear was the sound of the birds’ violent cries and the whirring of their wings.

Then everything went quiet—except for her heart, which felt like it was going to beat out of her chest. Hades’s, she noted, was unsurprisingly steady.

“Are you hurt?” he asked as Persephone reluctantly peeled herself away from him.

“No,” she said, wincing as he plucked a feather she had missed from her shoulder. “Thanks.”

“Did you say not again?” Hermes demanded. “How many times have you been chased by assassin birds?”

“Three,” Hades replied. “If you count this one. Though these are relatively harmless comparatively.”

“Harmless? Harmless?” Hermes’s face was turning pink. “Look at my ass, Hades. Does this look harmless?”

He turned to show his backside, which was covered in feathery darts. He looked like a peacock or maybe a porcupine, she couldn’t decide, but it took everything in her to keep from giggling. She pressed her lips together and, when that didn’t work, covered her mouth to hide it.

Hades didn’t even try. He just laughed, a deep sound that made her stomach flutter as she realized how much she had missed it.

“Laugh all you want,” said Hermes. “But you’re going to heal this.”

It took Persephone a moment to regain her composure, and while she felt bad for Hermes, she couldn’t deny that it had actually felt good to laugh—deeply, fully.

It had been a long time.

“Hermes, let me help,” she said, taking a step toward him just as a feather struck the sand near her foot.

“Oh no,” she said and looked up to see a horde of birds speeding toward them.

She covered her head, and Hermes screamed. It was shrill and sharp, worse than the sound he’d made at Zofie’s funeral. It twisted through her whole body, grated against every bone. She was so focused on the sound, it took her a moment to realize the birds hadn’t attacked, and when she looked up, she saw they had begun to swarm, darting in every direction as if the sound of Hermes’s scream had made them go mad.

His wail slowly subsided.

“Wh-what’s happening?” he asked.

“It appears Ares’s birds find you just as annoying as I do,” Hades said.

Hermes glared. “I think what you meant was ‘Thank you, Hermes. I had no idea you would be so helpful when I forced you to come to this island that is inhabited by deadly assassin birds, and by the way, I’ve been chased by them twice before.’”

Hades opened his mouth to respond, but Persephone spoke over him, knowing whatever was on the tip of her husband’s tongue would not be helpful. “That’s exactly what he meant, Hermes,” she said, glaring at Hades as she spoke. “Thank you.”

“At least someone appreciates my help,” Hermes said.

“Fucking Fates,” Hades muttered, rolling his eyes. “Let’s get out of here before those birds regroup.”

They crossed what remained of the shore, heading for the thicket of trees ahead.

“No, no, nope,” Hermes said as they neared. “I am not going in there.”

“Scared, Hermes?” Persephone asked.

“I just ruined my vocal cords to save us from those fucking birds, and you want to wander through their home!”

“The birds don’t live in the trees, Hermes,” said Hades, who had not stopped walking.

Hermes’s frustration vanished suddenly. “Oh,” he said and paused. “Well, where do they live then?”

“In the cliff side,” Hades replied.

“Oh.”

Hermes started to walk again, and Persephone fell into step beside him as they crossed the tree line.

“When did he become such an expert on birds?” Hermes muttered.

Persephone smiled. “I thought you were a warrior, Hermes,” she teased.

“Nature is a different kind of battlefield, Sephy.”

They were not beneath the cover of the trees long when they came to a sheer wall of rock. At first, she thought they were going to have to climb it, but then she noticed a narrow path worn into the side at a slow incline.

Seeing it brought about a deep sense of dread. It seemed too easy, like an invitation to something far more terrible, but she said nothing as they made their way up the cliff, which took them high above the trees, giving them a view of the endless ocean. From here, the world looked so beautiful, and she mourned that it was ruled by someone so terrible.

When they came to the top of the cliff, any feelings she had of admiration vanished, replaced by a sense of unease. It trickled down her spine and made her hair stand on end. She tried to keep from shivering but failed. The wind was colder here too.

Before them, a field stretched for miles. It was barren save for golden spikes sticking out of the ground. They looked like wheat. Far in the distance, on the opposite side of the island, was a great oak, and there, glimmering even in the grayish light, hung the Golden Fleece.

Persephone’s heart rose into her throat. The urge to teleport across the field overwhelmed her. She curled her fingers into fists to keep herself from giving in.

“I know you’re all about this hospitality thing,” said Hermes. “But you could have at least arrived on that side of the island.”

Hades did not respond. He was looking at the ground.

“What is it?” Persephone asked.

“Earthbound warriors,” Hades said.

“You mean the wheat?” she asked.

“That isn’t wheat,” he said. “It is the tip of a spear.”

The tip of a spear, and there were hundreds.

“You mean…they are buried beneath this field?”

“They were sown,” he said. “With dragon’s teeth. They are called Spartoi, the earth-born.”

“Well, how threatening can they be underground?” Hermes asked. He started to bend and touch one of the spears.

“Don’t,” Hades snapped, and Hermes snatched his hand back, holding it to his chest as if he’d been slapped. “If you touch them, you will awaken them and find out just how much of a threat they can be.”

“You could have led with that lifesaving information,” Hermes said, rising to his feet.

“Watch your feet,” Hades said, taking the first step into the field.

Persephone followed. It would have been easier had the warriors been sown in straight lines. Instead, they were staggered, which made crossing far more tedious.

“This is like hopscotch,” Hermes said.

Persephone paused to look at the god, who was jumping from space to space on one leg, then the other.

“Except if you lose, you are speared to death,” said Hades.

The delight that had lit Hermes’s face vanished.

“You ruin everything,” he said.

“Just reminding you of your mortality,” Hades said.

Persephone caught sight of his smirk before he turned his attention back to the field. She also continued, looking up now and then to gauge how long they had until they reached the oak and growing more and more disappointed when it did not seem to be any closer.

“Gods, this is taking forever,” she muttered, and then her stomach rumbled.

“I told you to bring a snack,” said Hermes.

She looked at the god, who was already munching on some kind of granola bar. He reached into his pouch and pulled out a second.

“Here, catch!”

Before she could say anything, the bar was already flying through the air. It hit her chest, and she tried to catch it, but it fell to the ground—right beside one of the golden spears.

“Oh, fuck,” Hermes said. “Did it touch?”

“I don’t know, Hermes,” Persephone snapped. “Why didn’t you just wait?”

“Well, excuse me for sharing!” he said. “I thought you were hungry.”

They were all still and silent for a few minutes, waiting to see what would happen. When nothing did, Persephone finally let herself breathe, but the sound of Hades’s voice put her on edge.

“Persephone,” he said. “Come to me.”

She met his gaze. His expression was dark, and his body was turned fully toward her, his hand outstretched like he was ready to pull her into his arms.

She took one step before a hand shot out of the dirt and clamped down around her ankle, jerking her to the ground. She screamed as terror took root in her body. If she fell, she would be impaled. She teleported out of the creature’s grasp to Hades’s side.

All around them, warriors sprang from the ground, breaking free of their slumber and the earth, fully armored and armed.

Persephone looked at Hades.

“I think I’m over hospitality,” she said.

Just like the warriors who had sprung from the ground, so did her magic. Vines erupted like snakes, slithering around the bodies of the soldiers and their weapons, dragging them back to the earth. Some broke free but were quickly restrained again. The more they struggled, the faster the vines moved until the entire plain was covered in thick, leafy greenery. The spears stuck out of the ground haphazardly.

Hades looked at her, and there was a gleam of pride in his eyes that she loved.

“Nice save, Sephy,” Hermes said as he approached, pulling out another bar from his pack. He started to open it when she snatched it away. “Hey! It’s my last one.”

“I think,” Hades said, “what you meant to say was ‘Thank you for saving my life, Persephone. If it wasn’t for my idiocy, we wouldn’t even have been in that situation to begin with. As a token of my appreciation, here is a snack.’”

Hermes slammed his lips together and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re never on my side,” he said.

Persephone tried not to laugh, but Hades sighed and started across the field, arming himself with a spear as he went. Persephone followed. The ground was now springy under her feet, making it a little harder to walk on. When her stomach growled again, she broke the bar and offered Hermes half.

“Thanks, Sephy,” he said, and then he hesitated. “I am thankful you saved us from my idiocy.”

“I know, Hermes,” she said and smiled at the god.

“You’re a really great friend, Sephy,” he said. “Sometimes I don’t think I deserve—”

His words faltered, and so did Persephone’s steps as the ground began to shift beneath them. There were several crisp snaps as warrior after warrior broke free from her bindings, and before they could flee, they were surrounded.

“Maybe stronger vines next time, Sephy,” said Hermes.

She was already trying to plan her next move when Hades materialized beside them and flung out his hand. Beneath his magic, the warriors turned to dust.

Persephone tilted her head back and looked up at Hades, who was peering down at her.

“Fuck hospitality,” he said, and then they teleported and came to stand before the oak tree where the Golden Fleece hung.

She had known from a distance that the tree would be grand, but nothing could have prepared her for its greatness. The oak was massive, with thick, long-reaching limbs that wound and spiraled, some so heavy they had bowed beneath their own weight and now touched the ground.

But what stunned Persephone was the dragon-like creature whose body was coiled around the base of the tree like a serpent. It was covered in shimmering scales that gleamed like fire. Its eyes were open and unblinking, ever watchful.

Nearby, beneath the fern-covered boughs of the tree, stood Ares.

He was large and imposing, his horns only adding to his dreadful appearance. They were long and sharp, curving behind his head. He wore armor that burned gold and a helm that matched. There was no kindness in his face, only malice.

“You killed my warriors,” said Ares.

“They will be reborn,” said Hades.

Ares’s mouth hardened. “You come to my island uninvited to steal from me,” said the God of War. “And you insult me by harming what is mine.”

“We have not come to steal,” Persephone said, angered by his accusation, though she regretted drawing his furious attention.

“So you have come to ask for a favor? Even worse, traitor goddess.”

“We are not here for ourselves,” Persephone said. “We are here for Harmonia. Aphrodite’s sister is dying.”

At her words, a little bit of Ares’s composure slipped, his angry eyes flashing with concern before he recovered and seemed to dig further into his aggression.

“You lie,” he said, looking at Hades. “I can smell the blood.”

“I did not lie,” Persephone said between her teeth. “Harmonia is dying. The Golden Fleece is the only thing that will save her!”

“And your lover, it seems,” said Ares. “Tell me, why should I help you?”

“Because you have no choice, Ares,” said Hermes. “I have come to collect my favor, one of many, might I add, that you owe me from all the times I saved your ass.”

“As helpful as that would be, I am not inclined to grant it.”

“You would risk divine retribution?” Persephone asked.

“Currently, Hermes is mortal, and by divine law, I am not obligated to uphold a promise made to a traitor.”

Persephone looked at Hades for confirmation of his words, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was staring darkly at Ares.

“Now you are just being an ass,” said Hermes.

“I have no wish to make the King of the Gods angry and no desire to lose my power,” Ares said.

“Even if it means hurting Aphrodite?” Persephone asked.

Ares was still, and she noticed his throat constrict as he swallowed.

“If you think I won’t tell her you refused, you’re wrong,” Persephone said. “She will hate you forever.”

Ares was quiet, and then he shifted his spear into his other hand.

“Who said you were going back?” Ares asked. Summoning his shield, he teleported.

Hades shifted, knocking Persephone to the ground as Ares appeared before them, stabbing his spear toward Hades’s face.

“Sephy!” Hermes raced toward her, pulling her away from the embroiled gods as she scrambled to her feet.

Hades summoned his bident, thrusting his weapon at Ares, who blocked the blow with his shield. The sound of the weapons meeting was like a lightning strike, and it seemed to rouse the dragon-like creature from its strange, open-eyed slumber. It growled and then rose, slithering higher up the tree, smoke rising from its nostrils and mouth.

Neither Hades nor Ares seemed to notice as they fought. It was hard to track them, they moved so fast, each stab more furious than the last, and while Persephone understood the source of Hades’s rage, she did not understand why Ares had chosen to fight them over aiding Aphrodite and her sister—the one goddess he was said to be closest to, the one who had shown him kindness in the face of the Olympians’ resentment.

Was he seeking the approval of his father? The esteem of other Olympians? Or had he merely been born like this, furious and bloodthirsty, always choosing battle over peace?

As the two fought, Persephone’s attention was drawn to the Golden Fleece and the dragon guarding it. Its eyes were fixed on Hades and Ares, its throat glowing brighter the longer the two struck at each other. It seemed to be biding its time, and Persephone did not want to find out for what.

She summoned her magic, calling to the twisted limbs of the oak the dragon was cradled within. They lengthened and crawled, winding slowly around the slithering serpent until, all at once, the branches closed around it, coiling tight around its deadly mouth. Still it managed a muffled roar as it lurched violently beneath the bindings, its neck now bright white with fire.

Persephone looked at Hermes.

“Get the fleece!” she ordered just as Ares appeared before her, striking her with the face of his shield. The blow made her feel like her entire body had been snapped in two and sent her flying. When she hit the ground, she ceased to breathe, landing in the field, striking the golden spears left behind as she rolled. When she came to a stop, she inhaled violently, healing her broken body as she got to her feet, pain still lancing through her.

Ares came for her again, but this time, his blow was stopped by Hades with a shield that seemed to be made of shadow, only it was solid. The impact of Ares’s attack sent Hades sliding back a few feet. Their weapons clashed again, and Persephone’s vines shot from the ground, gripping Ares’s arms and his spear, but they snapped under his great strength.

“I got it, Sephy! Let’s go!” Hermes yelled.

Her head whipped to the side to see Hermes running with the fleece, and then Ares teleported. Hades and Persephone followed but Ares arrived faster, striking Hermes as he appeared and sending him flying across the island. Hades attacked from above with the intention of slamming his shield down on Ares, but the god teleported behind Hades and drove his spear into his back. Another jerk, and it went through his chest.

Persephone screamed as Hades fell to his knees.

Ares shoved his foot against him, pulling out his spear as Hades hit the ground, following with a kick to the side that sent him onto his back, finishing with a final blow to his existing wound.

It had all happened so fast, Persephone had no time to act—to help her husband. Now she stood opposite them, watching as Ares released his spear, leaving Hades pinned to the ground. Then he turned and picked up Hades’s bident.

“There is nothing more victorious than taking up the weapon of the god you have defeated,” the God of War said, twisting the weapon in his hand.

Persephone’s heart raced, but so did her rage. Her gaze darted to Hades, whose head was turned toward her. His eyes usually held some kind of light—a hint of the life that burned within him—but it was gone.

Her gaze returned to Ares.

“You are despicable,” Persephone spat. The ground beneath her feet began to quake.

If Ares noticed, he did not seem to care. “This is war, little goddess,” he said. “Now, let’s see how you fight.”

Little goddess.

That name only made her more furious.

He took a few steps and then came toward her at a run, thrusting Hades’s bident at her only to drop it and his shield as a branch from his elm stabbed through his back and out of his chest.

Persephone flinched as blood from Ares’s mouth sprayed her face, but she held his gaze, his eyes wide with shock. The only sounds were his choked breathing and the steady spill of his blood as it pooled on the ground.

She considered saying something, but she felt like this all spoke for itself. Ares had become overconfident, and that had made him reckless.

She bent and picked up Hades’s bident. It was heavy, a grounding weight. With a final, hate-filled look at Ares, she went to her husband.

“Hades!” She hurried to his side, dropping the bident and pulling Ares’s spear free before falling to her knees beside him. Tears welled in her eyes and her throat went dry when he didn’t respond. “Hades,” she said again, taking his face between her hands.

His lashes fluttered, and then he opened his eyes. When he saw her, he smiled and she wept, suddenly overwhelmed. She bent and pressed her forehead to his and then her lips, pulling back to meet his gaze, but his eyes were closed again.

“Hades,” Persephone said. “Hades!”

She yanked up his shirt. The wound to his chest had not healed, and the one on his side was far worse, oozing blood and pus.

“No.”

She placed her hands over each, trying to mend them with her own magic, but nothing happened.

Something was wrong. Was the infection preventing him from healing?

“Fuck!” she screamed. She had to find Hermes, but just as she got to her feet, she caught sight of him in the distance. He was running as fast as he could, arms and legs pumping, his cheeks puffing as he breathed, the Golden Fleece gleaming in his hands.

“I got it, Sephy! I’m coming—ah!”

She watched as the god lost his footing and tripped, falling face-first on the ground.

She teleported to him.

“Come on, Hermes,” she said, and when he took her offered hand, she returned to Hades’s side.

“Oh fuck,” said Hermes. “What happened?”

“He isn’t healing at all now,” she said, spreading the fleece over Hades. “Is this how it works?”

“I think so,” Hermes said. “That is how I was able to heal when Ares tossed me across the island. Thank fuck it landed with me.”

They waited and Persephone smoothed her hands over the fleece, her gaze falling on Hades’s face. Her eyes welled with thick tears once more.

“Hades,” she whispered. “Please.” When he didn’t move, she chose anger. “You said you wouldn’t leave my side. You swore an oath.” And then she begged, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “Please, I will do anything. Just don’t leave me.”

She felt him move, and then his fingers tangled in her hair.

“Careful with your offer, darling,” he said. “I might just ask for anything.”

She started to cry harder and then lifted her head and kissed him, reveling in the feel of his breath on her lips.

Then she sat back and dragged the Golden Fleece off him, revealing his perfectly healed wounds.

Hades sat up, his gaze shifting to the still-bloodied tree Persephone had used as a weapon against Ares. The God of War had fled just as Hecate had predicted.

“Let’s heal Harmonia,” Persephone said.

This time, it was her magic that surrounded them and carried them home to the Underworld.