Page 97 of Where Darkness Bloomed
“One would hope,” Hades replied, brushing his knuckles along her cheek, though his expression was grim. “But war rarely honors the gentle. And it is often cruelest to those who wield no blades.”
Her skin warmed to his touch, even as something cold and heavy settled in her chest. Dread for which there was no comfort.
He stepped back, his hand slipping away as darkness stirred. It rose, thickening, coiling to the shape of his body. Black armor formed over him, etched with gold, seamless and imposing. The bident appeared in his fist, and his helm was beneath one arm, summoned by his will.
Her gaze traced him.
The Underworld’s fearsome ruler draped in divine strength. The same dark figure who had risen from the depths to claim her that day in Eleusis.
But now, not merely sovereign. Not captor nor consort.
Hers.
Her eyes rose, wandering the sharp planes of his face. “You will see my mother.”
The bident touched the marble floor with a low clang. He leaned into it, his gaze never leaving hers. “I will.”
Silence held for a moment.
“Will you tell her I am well?” she asked softly.
His expression shifted, softening on her. “I will.”
She reached up, her hand slipping behind his neck, fingers threading into his dark hair. He bent to her willingly, and their lips met—deep and slow. He tugged her closer, against the hard armor covering his chest, groaning softly as her tongue brushed his.
At last, he pulled back. His breath ghosted over her lips, warm and uneven. Then his brow dipped gently against hers.
“You tempt me, my queen,” he murmured, his voice rough-edged with want. “But I must go.”
He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm.
Darkness rose like a living mantle of night, folding him into the dark depths, swallowing light and form until only the gold glinted once—
And then, that too was gone.
Chapter 39
“The Greeks believe Achilles cannot be killed, and with good reason.” Apollo’s voice rang with accusation. “He has defied death at every turn!”
The sun god’s golden gaze burned across the dais, searing into Hades.
Hades leaned against the arm of his throne, his expression stony as he smothered a flicker of scorn. “None fated for death escape Thanatos,” he replied flatly. “It has never been done before.”
Apollo’s eyes sharpened with disdain. “A sword slices through a mortal’s gut, yet he’s not fated to die?”
Hades lifted a shoulder, unbothered. “So it seems.”
Apollo’s face tightened. He rose to his feet in a flash of light, a golden arrow materializing in his fist. It glinted menacingly, the promise of divine retribution.
“Achilles or no, I will not let my city fall,” he snarled. “Agamemnon learned nothing from his first encounter with my sister.”
From his jagged throne, Ares scoffed. He lounged, one ankle slung over his knee, the picture of brutal indifference. “By demanding the sacrifice of Agamemnon’s daughter in exchange for safe passage to Troy, Artemis only hardened his resolve,” he said darkly, his gaze slashing toward Artemis.
The silver goddess sat rigidly, a gleaming figure of stillness and moonlight, her face carved with calm fury. A circlet of starlight crowned her brow, and the pale folds of her chiton shimmered like frost.
She met Ares’s glare without flinching.“I sought to stop this war before it began—to spare lives,” Artemis replied coldly. “I did not think he would so eagerly butcher his own child.”
Ares leaned forward, elbows bracing against his knees. “Roam your forests, huntress,” he growled. “Leave warfare to those who understand it.Agamemnon’s heart was set on Troy’s ruin. Now he honors his daughter with its destruction.”
