Page 136 of A Touch of Chaos

Like the Impious. Like Triad.

Except in some ways, Persephone agreed. The Fateswere not directed by a sense of justice. They measured, wove, and cut to control under the guise of maintaining balance. When Hades took or gave life, they demanded an exchange. When Demeter had begged for a child, they had given her a daughter but entangled her fate with one of her greatest rivals.

It had been a punishment for Demeter and a gift to Hades and Persephone, but even now, they knew not to take it for granted, always aware that at any moment, the Fates might unravel their destiny. While Hades had always sworn to find his way back to her, deep down, she knew that while the three lived, it would be impossible.

Persephone could not help wondering what they had prepared for the future of the world.

“Do you think the Fates will really allow Theseus to overthrow the Olympians?” she asked.

“If they wish to punish us,” said Aphrodite.

“Even if Theseus intends to kill them?”

“The Moirai cannot see their end,” said Sybil. “It is the price they pay for weaving the fate of the world. It is likely they do not expect to die any time soon, especially at the hand of a demigod.”

Zeus had assumed the same, and now he lay tangled within the bonds of eternal sleep, weaponless and vulnerable, but perhaps that was the end they had woven for their father. It was impossible to know, and the sisters certainly wouldn’t tell.

It left Persephone wondering if, in some ways, Theseus was right. Should their battle begin with the end of the Fates?

CHAPTER XXVII

HADES

Hades manifested in a dark room within his palace where Hermes had taken up residence. He was immediately hit with the sound of the god’s guttural snoring. It was so loud, it vibrated the air around him, and he wondered if Hermes was actually breathing.

Hades summoned light in the fireplace and the sconces on the walls, but Hermes didn’t even flinch.

“Hermes!” Hades’s voice thundered in the small room, but the god did not startle.

He probably cannot hear me over the sound of his own snoring, Hades thought.

He approached the bed on which Hermes lay starfished on his stomach.

“Hermes!” he said again.

Then he grasped the coverlet and pulled it off.

“Fucking Fates,” he muttered.

Hermes was naked.

Of course he was naked.

Hades summoned a splash of ice-cold water. As it hit his bare back, Hermes screamed. It was the same high-pitched tone he’d managed while on Ares’s island. He rolled onto his back and somehow managed to jump to his feet. He looked as if he were ready for a fight.

Hades tossed him the blanket, and Hermes grabbed it, hugging it to his front.

“What the fuck, Hades,” he snapped. “A gentle shake would have sufficed.”

“I am not interested in being gentle with you.”

“Oh, come on,” he groaned. “Now you’re just fucking with me.”

“I am not fucking with you.”

“Yes, you are,” he hissed. “Don’t you know how sexual that sounds?”

“No,” Hades said.

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