Page 22 of A Touch of Chaos

It seemed to take Hermes a moment to realize what he had done, and he offered a sheepish, shy grin.

“There was a bug,” he explained. “A big one.”

A few of the Amazons snickered.

Hermes glowered and looked at Hecate and Ilias. “Tell me you saw it.”

Both of them shook their heads in quiet amusement.

Hippolyta rolled her eyes.

“Men,” she scoffed as she turned her back on the God of Trickery.

Persephone raised a brow at Hermes, who mouthedit was hugebefore swatting at another invisible bug.

They continued down the path until the city center was visible. At the site of the sunken courtyard, Persephone halted. A wooden pyre waited, and at each corner of what would become Zofie’s infernal bed, there was a burning torch, the flames dancing in the muted dark.

Seeing it filled Persephone with dread. How many would burn like Zofie and Tyche?

“This is the nature of battle, Lady Persephone,” said Hippolyta.

It was strange to hear the Amazon queen speak so impassively about the death of one of her subjects, even if it was one who had been exiled, though Persephone realized the greatest honor to this tribe was to die in battle, to die for a cause.

“I did not know anyone had declared war,” Persephone said.

Looking back now, she realized that it had begun the moment Adonis had died.

“That is the fault of your husband,” Hippolyta said. “He has been fighting since the start.”

Persephone met her gaze, brows furrowed, but the queen did not explain.

Instead, she took a step forward. “Come.”

Persephone followed the queen along a winding path to a home caged in ivy. Shoots of pink crocus, purple iris, and yellow narcissus blanketed the lawn, leading to an open door through which Persephone could see Zofie’s lifeless form.

Hippolyta entered with no hesitation, but Persephone found that her steps slowed as she crossed the threshold into the house of death, which was hot and smelled like wax, likely due to the oil anointing Zofie’s body.

The Amazon lay on a high table dressed in white, her hands resting on her stomach, fingers closed over the hilt of her long sword. Her dark hair was smoothed into a braid, and she was crowned with a wreath of golden leaves.

She was beautiful, her limbs glistening beneath the firelight.

“You mourn so deeply, Lady Persephone,” Queen Hippolyta said. “Have you not welcomed Zofie into the Underworld?”

“I have,” Persephone said with a small smile, recalling her first sighting of the aegis. “But does the promise of seeing anyone again ever ease grief?”

The queen was quiet, though Persephone did not expect her to understand, just as Hades had not understood her fear of losing Lexa. Mourning was not just about the person. It was about the world one created around them, and when they ceased to exist, so did that world.

Hecate, Hermes, and Ilias approached, each sayinggoodbye in their own way—Hecate with a prayer and Hermes with a kiss on Zofie’s cheek. Persephone was most surprised by Ilias, who took his time, his face inches away as he whispered words she could not hear before pressing his lips to Zofie’s.

When he straightened, he met Persephone’s gaze with red-rimmed eyes before stepping away, making room for her.

As Persephone neared, she looked down at Zofie’s serene face, and though she was beautiful, all Persephone could see was how she’d looked in death—stunned by the pain of Theseus’s blade. She touched her hair and bent over her.

“You served so honorably, Zofie,” she whispered and kissed her forehead.

When she straightened, Hippolyta stood opposite her holding a wide leather belt.

“Lord Hades promised to return Zofie once she brought honor to us,” said Hippolyta. “In exchange, I agreed to lend him my belt.”

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