Page 1 of The Queen & the King

One

Hades

MY HANDS. MY USELESS FUCKING HANDS.I close and open my fists repeatedly. Useless. My power is rising in me, a flood of darkness, and I don’t have the will to beat it back. Why bother? I could have all the power of the Underworld, and it would change nothing. My completely healed wings are lying useless on either side of me. The chill slides over me as icy despondency creeps in, detaching me from my emotions and body. I shiver and stare at the unmarred, leathery webbing of my wings, hating the sight of them. They’re the reason she’s gone. Was it worth it? No. I would have rather died, but since I didn’t, Persephone is now in the hands of her wicked mother. With that thought, a new emotion starts to eclipse the never-ending void growing inside me.

Wrath.

I slam my fist against the marble floor, watching as it cracks beneath me. Once isn’t enough, and my fist slams into it over and over. My knuckles split and heal, the palace fixing the floor between each assault. The slight bite of pain keeps me focused, the anger brewing and growing until it consumes me.

She made a mistake leaving me alive, and she would pay dearly for it.

The darkness hums inside me, and I welcome it. It wraps around me, stoking my fury into an inferno, and the Underworld responds to its king’s will. Black clouds billow across the realm, heading toward the palace. I stand, my body coiled tight with anger. The darkness sweeps closer, and its proximity resonates inside me, feeding on the black rage boiling through me.

She wants a war? I’ll fucking give her one. I am the King of the fucking Underworld, and she thought to cross me? Me?!

“Morpheus!” I roar, all the rage vibrating inside me, reverberating off the walls.

The God of Dreams forms next to me, bowing slightly, his inky hair falling into his fathomless eyes.

“Your Majesty,” he whispers, the echoes of a forgotten dream lingering in his voice.

“The queen has been taken.”

My queen.

My Persephone.

Morpheus straightens, his expression unchanged. No visible signs of shock at the news or even dismay. Not that I expected either from him. There is little that elicits a reaction from this particular son of Nyx.

“Melinoë!” I shout.

The Goddess of Nightmares appears with a frown, her arms crossed. I doubt she’s happy that I summoned her in such a way. All gods who call the Underworld home can be forced into my presence if I so choose. In the past, I rarely used that power unless I had no choice. But that was before.

“Persephone’s been taken,” I repeat, watching as the scars on one side of Melinoë’s face darken with her anger. Her mismatched eyes spark, and any anger aimed at me by my summoning is immediately redirected.

Morpheus shifts away from Mellie, undoubtedly his skin crawling at her presence. She feelswrongto him. She should be under his dominion as the Lord of Dreams, yet she exists apart—something the younger goddess loves to remind the oldest of the Oneiroi of.

“I understand your distress, my king. What I do not understand is why you need me,” Morpheus adds, his tone flat.

The darkness surrounds the palace, pressing over the windows and blotting out the light. Mellie looks out, her brows drawing slightly in concern.

I roll my shoulders. “She’s been taken to Olympus.”

The palace responds to the darkness, lights flickering to life inside, attempting to combat my abilities.

Mellie hisses, her one black eye flashing.

“And you cannot follow,” Morpheus provides. Even if it wasn’t almost time for my six months in the Underworld, he knows that Olympus is not a place I can tread easily.

The darkness presses in on me, eager to take control. I push it back but allow it to build. When the time is right, I will unleash the death blow. Until then, I’m going to savor this power coiling inside me like a viper. I will sink my fangs into the throat of my enemy and drown myself in their blood.

“Her mother has taken the power of Gaia and used it to snap our bond,” I snarl, barely leashing the anger inside me.

“That’s not possible,” Melinoë growls harshly, sounding more animalistic than a moment before. The careful tightrope she walks between lucidity and insanity is being affected by my power. I’m not merely pushing her balance one way. I’m cutting the rope she stands on. Normally, I’d be horrified at this, but right now, I want more. I want her unleashed. I need the Mellie ready to rip out throats—the unstable one.

“I need to speak with her, and there is only one way I can,” I continue.

Morpheus’s fathomless eyes blink, and he takes a short breath as he realizes what I mean. “You want to dreamwalk.”

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