Leuce bows her head. “The Gods can be ugly, Persephone.”

“So ugly that a mother does not love her child? So ugly that she would banish him to the wing of the palace where all that she hates is left to gather dust? To rot?”

Leuce’s beautiful eyes connect with mine. “You only have to look at Demeter to answer that question, my friend.”

My fingers curl where my heart thunders. I feel as though I’m trying to contain it inside me, for I cannot imagine carrying my daughters, nurturing them with my body, and not loving them more than anything else. Certainly, more than myself.

And now I am certain that Hera does not love Ares.

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

Hades

“She doesn’t sleep.”Hypnos sighs tiredly, leaning back in the chair as I swing my legs over the side of the couch to rise.

“What do you mean she doesn’t sleep? It’s been three days.”

“I cannot connect to her if she does not sleep.” He scrubs his face, the silver rings that bind his fingers catching in the light of the flames dancing in the hearth.

“She cannot go three days without sleep, Hypnos. She is human.” I stand, pacing. “She is—she is vulnerable. She carries our children.”

“She sleeps,” Hypnos assures me. “But not long enough to fall into anything deep. It is possibleImight have time to slip into her mind, to meet her. But she does not give us the time to connect your mind to hers.”

“Then meet her and tell her to fucking sleep.”

His brows rise slowly, and he settles back in the chair again. “I can sense that she is alive, Hades. She is as well as she can be, being in that place.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him his words do nothing to ease the worry that has only built with every day she has been gone, but I don’t. It wouldn’t be true.

Hypnos lifts an ankle over his knee, getting comfortable. He clearly plans to stay a while. It’s a good thing. I’m not sure I’d let him leave.

He speaks, “Her sleep is broken. She is not plagued by nightmares, but by whatever it is she sees in Olympus during her day. I can feel the edges of her mind and sense the distress. She is not happy, and she does not feel secure. But no harm has yet befallen her.”

There is movement at the entrance, and my eyes land on Minthe. She looks put together as always, her green velvet gown clinging to her lean body. The high slit shows off the green vines that ink her skin as an eternal reminder that she’d experienced the wrath of a Goddess, nearly having been turned into a mint plant. Most would think it a tattoo, but if one looked closely, they would see the slight raise of the vines. If one touched, they would feel the hardness of scars.

“I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.” Her eyes flicker between us, apology dancing with a fear my own recognizes.

“When did you return from the living realm?”

“A few hours ago.” She lifts the wine she carries to her lips. “I—I couldn’t?—”

“Rhadamanthus can handle the tower.” She nods but says nothing more.

“Have you been sleeping, Minthe?” Hypnos asks, and it’s then I see the dark circles under her eyes.

She sips her wine again. “Have you tried Leuce?”

“Her mind is guarded.”

“Fucking nymph.” Emotion cracks her words, shimmering in her eyes.

Hypnos nods. “Indeed.”

Those shining eyes land like spears on Hypnos. He doesn’t even flinch. “And what about Hydra?”

“She does not dream as Gods and humans dream.”