Page 89

“We were taken to a cell, me and Dad. Then the guards came in dressed like they were from some ancient movie. No onewould talk to us, tell us what was happening. Dad tried to fight them, but he couldn’t. We were taken to the arena where…”

“I saw that part,” I tell her softly.

Her chin quivers with emotion. “The winner took me back to his room and—and that was it.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Me too.”

God, her eyes are so sad for a moment. She blinks it away and smiles a breakable smile. “My name is Melody, by the way.”

“Persephone.”

“I can’t believe you’rethePersephone. I mean, I was always more interested in the Roman version of the Gods, but now that I know they’re all the same. Gosh, your story isn’t a whole lot better than mine. You were abducted young and, and…”

She can’t say it. Can’t speak the terrible word that was done to her by the gladiator who took the life of her father. Who stole her innocence before stealing her life and fating her to an eternity in this hideous realm.

I clear my throat. “My story isn’t what people think it is.”

Her brows drift together, and she takes another sip of her coffee. “I suppose it isn’t.” She blows a breath from between her cheeks. “I never imagined Zeus was the cruel God. The one we should truly fear.”

“Hades is—” I cough, and Melody jumps up with my water again. I take a drink, longer this time. “Hades is loving, Melody. He’s loving to me and he’s loving to the souls he cares for in the Underworld. He’s nothing like the myths paint him.”

“So, there is more than this to the afterlife, then?”

I give her a slow, hesitant nod. “For those who die in the living realm, yes.”

She dips her chin to her chest. “I know I’m trapped here for eternity. But I’m happy to know that most of us—that we go somewhere where we are loved.”

“Yeah.”

We fall into heavy silence until my belly rumbles.

Melody jumps to her feet, and I flinch. “Of course, you must be starving. I’ll get you food.”

I push up in the bed. “Can I come with you?”

Her eyes narrow, then soften. “If you’re sure you can manage?”

“I wasn’t hurt in the arena.”

“Just because your body wasn’t hurt doesn’t mean your soul was left untouched,” she says matter of fact, but takes my hand in hers anyway.

Chapter

Thirty-Seven

Persephone

Hephaestus’mountain house is a grotto on steroids. Instantly, I know it’s my favorite place in Olympus. The rough stone walls and oversized, handcrafted furniture in the dim light create an ambiance that feels comforting and safe.

With my belly full of warm soup, I’m snuggled under a heavy blanket on a couch that is far larger than normal with Melody tucked close. A fire warms the space, and opposite us on another massive couch, sit Gideon and an unimpressed looking Hephaestus.

Ares stands beside the fireplace mantle, arms crossed over his chest. Raised red welts I’ve been assured will fade in time, line his skin. Pockets of the stonelike flesh beneath peek through wounds that have not yet fully healed.

“Let the realm die.” Hephaestus’ gaze flicks, not for the first time, to Melody. His pitch drops lower, a rough timbre of anger and resentment spilling into the quiet space. “We’ve lost our way as Gods.”

“Have we ever known the way?” Ares grinds out.