Page 118 of A Touch of Chaos

Persephone flinched as blood from Ares’s mouthsprayed 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, armsand 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 anoath.” 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-bloodiedtree 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.

CHAPTER XXIII

HADES

Hades followed Persephone into the queen’s suite where Harmonia lay near death, clinging to life by a frayed thread. He had sensed the change in her before they left but hoped the Fates would let her live for as long as possible. They did not like when their chosen allotment and destiny were disrupted, which was likely why she’d held on this long, but even they would not stop a thread from snapping if the soul decided it was time.

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