Page 9 of A Touch of Chaos

“Theseus would say that is power,” she said.

“It is power,” he agreed. “But there is power in many things.”

She was quiet and she pressed her fingers against the cool glass, tracing the edge of the New Athens skyline.

“They think I lied,” she said.

Right before everything had taken a turn for the worst—before Sybil had gone missing and the avalanche and ensuing battle, before Theseus had traded in his favor for her compliance—Helen had decided to reveal the secret of Persephone’s divinity and accused her of deceiving New Greece.

Her timing, in many ways, had been impeccable. She had known that the world had come to admire and admonish Persephone, both for writing controversial articles about the gods but also for capturing the attention of the notoriously reclusive God of the Dead.

In some ways, she’d endeared herself to a mortal public that could see themselves in her.

Now they likely felt betrayed.

“Then tell the truth,” Hermes said.

She lifted her head, watching the God of Mischief in the reflection of the window.

“Will that be enough?”

“It will have to be,” he said. “It is all you can give.”

It felt so silly, to worry over what people thought after everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, but to mortals, the world was still recognizable. They would demand answers to the accusations Helen had leveled, ignorant of Persephone’s agony, of Hades’s absence, of Theseus’s terrorism.

She was quiet for a moment and then turned to face him fully.

“Summon Ilias,” she said. “We have work to do.”

Before they began, however, she needed to see Sybil and Harmonia.

Persephone returned to the Underworld and found her friends in the queen’s suite. Harmonia was asleep in her bed while Sybil lay beside her, wide awake and watching as if she feared her girlfriend might cease to breathe if she didn’t remain alert.

Persephone knew that horror.

As she entered, Sybil looked up and whispered her name, rising and rushing to her. The oracle burst into tears as she threw her arms around Persephone’s neck.

“I’m so sorry, Sybil,” she said quietly, not wishing to disturb Harmonia, who lay unmoving.

Sybil pulled away just a fraction and met Persephone’s gaze. Her eyes were rimmed in red, and stray tears tracked down her face.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she managed on a shaky breath.

But Persephone felt responsible. It was hard not to given that Theseus had targeted her because of their friendship.

Persephone took a breath. “What happened?”

Sybil swallowed, her gaze falling to Harmonia. Outwardly, she looked mostly healed. It was clear that either Sybil or Hecate had done their best to clean the dirt and dried blood from her face, though it still matted her pale hair.

“They came in the night, silent. I don’t think they expected either of us to wake as soon as they appeared, but we did. I had been dreaming of death, and Harmonia felt their magic.”

“So they were demigods?”

“Only two,” she said. “They must have let the rest of their men into the apartment once they teleported inside.”

“How many in total?” Persephone asked.

Sybil shook her head, shrugging a shoulder. “I’m not certain. Five or six.”

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