Page 95 of A Touch of Chaos

“What is it, my dear?” Hecate asked, appearing just as he finished wrapping the towel around his waist. She was dressed in dark robes. He imagined if she had not already been out in the world above causing grief, she had been about to leave.

Persephone turned to him. “Tell her!” she commanded.

He did not like being ordered, but he disliked that he had upset Persephone more.

“Theseus stabbed me with Cronos’s scythe. The wound won’t heal. I was going to come to youtomorrow,” he said pointedly. “But Persephone insisted.”

Hecate pulled the hood from her head, her expression far more concerned than he expected. She crossed the room toward him and bent to study the wound, then straightened, meeting his gaze. She seemed just as irritated with him as Persephone.

“Lie down,” she said, another order, and while it made him bristle, he didn’t protest.

He was very aware of Hecate and Persephone watching him and ground his teeth at the sharp stab of pain that shot up his side as he sat. He held his breath as he lay back, the pain turning to a dull throb.

He hadn’t thought twice about how good this would feel as he relaxed into the mattress, but after hangingfrom the ceiling for what felt like fucking days, this was like lying on a cloud.

“Persephone,” said Hecate. “Would you be a dear and bring me towels? A lot of them.”

“Of course,” Persephone said, disappearing into the adjacent bathroom.

Hecate looked at Hades. “You shouldn’t scare her like this,” she chided.

“It wasn’t my intention toscareher,” he said. “I was going to handle it.”

“Tomorrow,” Hecate said, almost mockingly. “When it might be too late.”

Hades averted his eyes, frustrated.

Persephone returned with a stack of towels.

“Your magic isn’t reaching the wound at all,” Hecate said. “I will not be able to do much beyond attempting to prevent infection.”

Persephone’s stare was hard, her eyes glassy.

He was frustrated that this was how he’d returned to her—far more broken than before.

Hecate placed the towels around Hades’s wound, creating a barrier, and then summoned a glass pitcher. “Could you fill this with warm water, dear?” she asked.

“You know you can use your magic,” Hades said when Persephone vanished into the bathroom again. “Why do you keep sending her away?”

“If I used my magic right now, the water would scald you to death,” Hecate snapped. “Besides, would you prefer I berate you in front of your wife?”

“I’d rather you not berate me at all,” he said.

“Then don’t—”

“Be an idiot,” he spoke over her. “I know. Believe it or not, I really try not to be.”

“Demeter is dead, Hades.”

Hades’s mouth parted, but he had no words to speak.

He was usually aware of every soul that came into his realm, save for the time he’d spent in the labyrinth, and he had been too distracted upon his return to take inventory.

“How?”

“Persephone,” she answered. “She needs you well and as whole as you can be—to lean on in grief but also in guilt.”

Hades swallowed hard, his fingers curling into fists at his sides.

---