Page 1 of Where Darkness Bloomed (Of Stars and Salt #1)

His footsteps were silent as Hades crossed the ivy-strewn courtyard. Around him, marble columns rose toward the gray sky above, veiled in creeping ivy. An unseasonable chill filled the spring air, and low-hanging clouds promised snow.

In the deserted temple, his gaze was drawn to an alcove where the ivy grew thickest, twining between columns.

“Begone, Hades.”

The voice spoke from the shadows, sharp as winter’s bite.

He didn’t move, his gaze fixed on the concealed figure. “Lurking in darkness is not your nature, Demeter.”

“It is certainly yours.” Demeter stepped forward into the light, her earth-colored eyes hardening on him. “Now more than ever. I hear you’ve claimed dominion over the Underworld.”

She stood tall, cloaked in plain linen robes, her dark hair crowned by a golden diadem of braided wheat. Her arms cradled a small, swaddled bundle.

Hades’s jaw tightened. “It was not my choice, nor anyone else’s,” he replied stiffly. “The Titans have fallen, and order must be restored. Casting lots was the only just way.”

They both knew it was true. Between the three powerful sons of defeated Kronos, lots had been cast to divide governance of the cosmos. To Zeus, the heavens had been granted. Poseidon had received the seas. And he, Hades, had been named ruler of the Underworld.

“Do not speak to me of justice,” Demeter retorted bitterly. “What justice has ever been given to me? That my love is spurned in favor of another? Or that you come to my doorstep thinking to steal away my only child?”

Hades met her glare without flinching. “Speak reason, sister. I’m not here to steal from you. ”

Demeter held the bundle closer, and his gaze flitted down. An infant daughter, sleeping peacefully.

“She will never be yours.” Her eyes flashed fiercely as she clutched the child closer. “You’ll not take her from me, nor will he. I will not allow it!”

“Demeter.” His voice cut sternly across the echo. “I have endured with you through our imprisonment and war against Kronos. Your daughter is the first goddess born into a hard-earned peace. Don’t use her to invite discord amongst us.”

His gaze softened slightly on Demeter. “Let her be more than a reminder of Zeus’s lost affection.”

Fury twisted Demeter’s features, and the air grew frigid. A crackling pulse of power stirred within Hades, bristling in anticipation, but he remained still.

Then, with a shuddering breath, her composure crumpled.

“He was mine.” Her voice cracked, a tear sliding down her cheek. “He would have remained so, if not for her manipulative—”

“It was not Hera’s choice,” Hades interrupted firmly.

Demeter’s eyes squeezed closed, shuttering against the words.

But the truth remained.

Zeus’s eye had been drawn to Hera during the Titan War when she won a great victory for his war against Kronos, a campaign that had teetered on a knife’s edge. With skillful influence, Hera had persuaded Oceanus and Tethys—two great powers of old—to Zeus’s side.

After the war, Hera’s rebuff had fanned Zeus’s flickering interest into blazing passion.

But she refused him still, and Zeus had turned to more creative means of pursuit.

A fateful rainstorm, a small dove caught in its winds.

Clutching the rescued bird to her breast, Hera had sought shelter in a secluded portico at Olympus’s edge, only to find Zeus’s raw, masculine form pressed tightly against her.

The deed was done.

Hera became queen.

“You know Zeus as I do. Contentment is not his nature. Would you have that for yourself and your daughter?” Hades demanded. “Watching in humiliation from Olympus as he beds every—”

“ Get out ,” Demeter spat, her words slicing through the air.

Outside, the wind moaned with cold fury. The infant in Demeter’s arms cooed softly in her sleep, oblivious to the icy rage gathering in the air. Hades’s gaze flicked to the child once more, and resolve settled like iron in his chest .

“I did not come here to quarrel, but I won’t ignore the Fates. And neither will you,” he said coldly.“It is our law—we do not interfere in matters foretold by the Fates.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest, nodding to the sleeping babe. “They have bound her to me.”

“You do not know that—”

“Enough.”

His voice was harsh enough that Demeter, for all her stubbornness, momentarily fell silent.

“You saw her foretelling, just as I did,” Hades continued, his patience wearing thin. “She stood in my realm, wearing my heraldry, a crown of the Underworld on her brow. You cannot deny it.”

“She is bound to no one ,” Demeter hissed furiously. “She will live in sunlight, on the earth, and never know the evils of the gods.”

Hades arched a brow. “And when the earth is filled with men?” he asked. “Even now, Prometheus creates mankind. Mortals who will fill the earth with their seed, siring sons and daughters.”

Demeter’s face slackened, uncertainty rising in her eyes. But she turned away sharply. “Return to your kingdom, Hades,” she bit out. “There is nothing for you here.”

He exhaled, the sound nearly a growl. Then he turned away, striding toward the columns and the world outside. “I leave you until she comes of age.”

Demeter’s mouth opened in protest, but he halted abruptly at the threshold, one hand resting against the stone.

“Do not oppose me in this, Demeter.” The warning rose over his shoulder, low and edged in iron. “I will have her.”