Page 168 of Where Darkness Bloomed
“What did she eat?” he finally muttered.
“Pomegranate seeds.”
Zeus exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Fitting,” he said dryly. When he turned back, his eyes glittered with accusation. “And what of your neutrality? You do not take sides in mortal affairs.”
Hades paused. Then he spoke the truth.
“My loyalty is to her. Always to her.”
“Then bargain with me, brother.” The words carried a demand, a challenge. “I will overlook Persephone’s defiance... for a favor.”
“What favor?” he asked, eyeing Zeus shrewdly.
“Bring a mortal to the Underworld.”
Scorn flickered across Hades’s features. “Thanatos is guided by the Fates,” he said sharply. “You know this.”
“This task is not for Thanatos,” Zeus replied tersely. “I ask you.”
The quiet became weighted.
Hades studied him, eyes narrowing. “Who?”
“Helen of Troy.”
Dark fire ignited in Hades, crackling through his veins. At the edge of the hall, shadows stirred, twisting restlessly. “Has the world not bled enough for her?” he demanded, his voice cold, laced with fury. “My kingdom is overflowing with the dead slain in her name.”
“More will die if you refuse,” Zeus snapped. “Menelaus’s ship was blown of course by a storm. He has yet to return home, and Sparta is overrun with suitors seeking her hand. It balances on the edge of ruin.”
Hades loosed a savage curse that blistered the air, his temper fraying. “Then speak to Poseidon,” he gritted through clenched teeth. “Ships lost. Soldiers drowned. That ishiswrath, not mine. Why come to me?”
“Because I would not have her destroyed,” Zeus barked. “I would have her protected.” He stepped closer. “Take Helen as you once took Persephone. Remove her from the mortal world and shelter her here.”
The air tightened like a bowstring.
Hades’s face turned to stone. “The Underworld already has its queen,” he replied, the words frigid as ice. “I will not—”
“No,” Zeus interrupted swiftly. “She has suffered enough at the hands of men and gods. Born of Leda, sired by me, a child of Olympus who has endured far more than most. Coveted. Stolen. Claimed as a prize since she was hardly more than a child.”
Rare regret lined his features. “Let her torment finally end.”
His gaze drifted past Hades, toward the shadows still gathered in the corners of the hall. “This calamity began with our interference,” he murmured. “Let us end it.”
Hades was silent. The ice in his gaze thawed slightly, but did not vanish.
“If I bring her here,” he said at last, “how am I to judge her? When I am the one who cuts her life above short?”
“Wasn’t there another?” Zeus’s brow arched. “A life shaped by divine and mortal hands. Are they so different?” he asked. “How did you judge Achilles?”
“He waits by the river.”
Zeus bent his head, a rare moment of deference. “Then perhaps their fates may be reconciled.”
Another pause.
Hades crossed his arms, fingers tapping against his bicep as he considered. Then he asked, “What of Demeter?”
Weariness settled over Zeus. “Persephone returned to you, as I swore she would,” he replied gruffly. “By her own actions, she has bound herself to this kingdom. But if no compromise is found, I fear the mortals will suffer Demeter’s wrath again.”
