Page 62 of Hades and Persephone: Crown of Souls

Hades doesn’t take the bait. “I want to know what your connection to Atlantis was.”

“Atlantis.” Hecate’s face changes, her chin lifting to roll her head on her shoulders. The gesture is one to induce a prickle of shivers across every inch of my skin. “A name I haven’t heard in a looong time. How is the city of power?”

“How are you connected to Atlantis?” Hades repeats, unwilling to engage Uranus.

Hecate’s eyes snap to Hades, displeasure rolling from her in waves that promise a painful death.

I am hit with a blast of agonizingly painful cold. When I breathe, the breath I release appears as a mist on the air beforeturning into a thousand tiny crystals that rain to the ground where they shatter in a shower of little chimes.

I feel as though I am a moment from freezing to my death, incapable of doing anything at all to escape my terrible fate when Hades moves, pulling my body into his. The warmth that radiates from him should be impossible. A dewy sheen of melting frost clings to my flesh as I shiver in the circle of Hades’ warmth, regaining control of my fingertips rather slowly.

“It’s been so long since I’ve entertained conversation. How about you tell me howyouthink I am connected to Atlantis.” There is dark glee tinged with hunger in the voice that resonates from Hecate’s body. It is a glee that is entirely not of her, even as it forms from inside her.

I’m not certain if Uranus hears it, but a low growl sounds in Hades’ chest. If I weren’t pressed against him, my ear to the thunder of his heart, I might not have heard it.

“Atlantis dimmed when Cronus castrated you.” Hades ignores the rumble of male rage that overpowers the lyrical sound of Hecate’s feminine voice. “Somehow, Atlantis felt the severing of your seed, and the power it bestowed to her.”

“My seed,” Uranus and Hecate say together. “Yes, it was the pathway in which Chaos fed her child.”

That makes no sense.God, I think my brain is still shivering.

Hades’ arms tighten around me, the warmth increasing until the flesh that touches him is on the cusp of burning. Still, I press closer, careful to keep an eye trained on Hecate and her floating self.

And, yes, she is floating. Her feet dangle in the air, the thin chains that hold tiny charms wound around her delicate ankles glittering with the kiss of frost.

“Why would your seed be the path of her power?” Hades demands, but there is an edge to his words. They are sharp with a blade of knowing he doesn’t want to accept.

Hecate laughs. The sound spills from her lips wrongly.

Nothing about this situation feels right. Nothing about the dark soul restrained in Hecate’s tiny body feels safe. It feels like we’re playing a deadly game, and we don’t have all the rules.

I shiver, and Hades pulls me closer.

I am warm now, the frost that had spidered over my skin has officially melted. With my eyes on Hecate, and the frost that inches along her skin, I can’t help but wonder if she is going to come out of this intact. Or if she’ll shatter into a million tiny shards of frozen Goddess.

We must hurry this along.

I want to step forward, closer to Hecate and the ruined king of Gods she chains inside. But I am bound by the circle of Hades’ arms and the warmth his embrace provides me. If I step outside this melted circle, my fate will surely be an icy one.

Pulling warm air into my aching lungs, I project my voice. “You consumed her—Chaos—didn’t you?” Hades stiffens behind me, even though I’m certain he’d been thinking exactly this. “You envied her power and stole it for yourself.”

Hecate’s pitch-black eyes snap to me. She—he—them—theyhad looked at me when I’d first entered this prison world for the dethroned king of Gods. I’d felt Uranus’ curiosity as his dark gaze moved over me then. But it had passed rather quickly, replaced by his hatred for Hades.

Now, however, his black gaze is not so quick to drift away.

It stays fixed on me, battling Hades’ warmth in an attempt to chill me. I keep my chin lifted, my eyes holding the black orbs that have entirely taken over Hecate’s eyes.

It must be because I am staring with such focus, but I don’t miss the way Hecate’s nostrils flare. Uranus is scenting the air in that disconcerting way I’ve come to know that Gods do. And even though Hecate’s eyes are entirely black, they somehow sharpen.

I feel the laser focus that lands on me, threatening to cut through me as Uranus’ words hiss from Hecate’s lips.

“Human?”

“My name is Persephone.”

Hecate stiffens in the moment before her floating body lowers to the whirling ground. I can’t make myself look down, not really. Because what we stand on appears to be a whole abyss of nothing. It is an endless swirl of ebony and cobalt and soulless grey that bleeds into a frosty pit that howls with the shriek of an everlasting cyclone of shrieking grief.

Still, Hecate’s floating form lowers to the place where we stand. There is a very visible moment of struggle where I think Hecate might be fighting Uranus inside her. And then a step is taken. Then another.

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