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“Zeus.”

I want to scream at the name. Instead, I ask, “What will happen to her?”

“If she dies tonight, and I pray she does, then her soul will be sent to a lesser house where she will serve her eternity as a slave.”

“You—you hope she dies?”

“I hope for the end of her living suffering.” Ares winces, and his next words sound like a confession. “There is no death worse than the murder of innocence in the hands of bloodlust.”

I shiver, and Ares doesn’t miss it. I’m momentarily surprised when more blades of gold thread the blood red in his eyes. I think he’s surprised, too.

Ares tips his head, as though studying me. I’m afraid that he’s going to look too deep and discover the secrets I keep.

I swallow hard and his eyes bounce back to mine. I say, “She is human.”

“Yes.”

“Why, then, doesn’t her soul arrive in the Underworld when she dies?”

“Olympus is,” he pauses. “Think of it as a prison of sorts. It’s impossible for human souls to escape Olympus. And when they die here, they don’t truly die. Their bodies are not as they are in the Underworld.”

“What do you mean?”

He seems to cringe. “They come back in a sort. They don’t age, but they can suffer death again, though such a thing is rare. The more they die, the less they fear death and the less appeal the killing holds.”

I am horror-struck. “That’s?—”

“The girl’s soul will serve Olympus for eternity. To die in this realm is binding,” Ares interrupts. “That is the will of Zeus. Th will of Olympus.”

“Fuck Zeus and his will,” I spit.

Ares cocks that carefully amused grin. “Careful,human. Your soul is very alive in a place where being alive is most dangerous.”

I ignore his very blatant threat as the screaming lowers to a pained whimper and ask, “The house she is given to…will they…”

“Harm her?” he finishes. “Some would. Most, though.” He pauses. “I believe most weary of Zeus’ lust for pain.”

The whimper finally dies and I fear the girl has, too. Grief, hot and aching, erupts inside me.

My lips part as I gasp in a breath I know will split the air with a sob I can contain no more than I can wrap the wreckage of my rupturing heart. Ares hooks me around the back of my neck, pulling me hard into the wall of his chest. All traces of blood-soaked earth are gone, leaving only the scent of citrus and a deeper, darker, earthy spice.

His chest absorbs the cry I let spill as his iron arms keep the rest of me from coming apart at the seams.

Finally, when there are no more tears left to cry, Ares releases me. He looks uncomfortable by the contact, as thoughit’s unusual for him. When he steps back and clears his throat, he commands roughly, “Go. Return to your rooms and stay there.”

I frown. “What will you do?”

His hard jaw hardens. “I will escort her body to a house. One—” He bows his head. “One I know will do the best they can by her soul.”

“I’m coming.”

“No.”

I repeat, more firmly this time, “I’m coming.”

Really, I think I’m ready to go to battle over this with the God of War.

Ares sighs as he appraises me. Then, oddly, he murmurs, “I can see why he loves you.” His eyes watch my frown deepen. His voice lowers, but it does nothing to soften the deep roughness of it. “There is very little that is truly good in all the realms. You, Persephone, are truly good.”