Page 38 of Aïdes the Unseen
My blood was still. Cold. Yet, I knew what must come next. I found her in the gardens near the Phlegethon, the river of fire, her hands dusted with silver ash. Her laughter drifted soft as pollen.
Kerebos lay beside her, tail thumping as she teased him with a carved bit of bone, not cruel, never cruel, but light. There was peace here, in her. For her, the storm had passed and left the world washed new.
But she was not alone.
Hephaestus stood beside her, stooped and massive, his arms crossed, soot marking the creases of his beard. No flame curled in his forge-broken hands, only concern. Of all the gods I expected to come calling, he was not among them.
But my queen, my root-deep wildfire, spoke to him as if he were an old friend. He answered her in kind, voice low and roughened by smoke, with words I’d never heard him offer anyone.
Gentleness.
“Even the mountains weep ice now,” he was saying, gesturing with one thick hand. “My forges dimmed last week. The iron grows brittle. My fire doesn't hold.”
She tilted her head, a furrow between her brows. “And Olympus?”
“Divided. Poseidon blames the frost, says the sea is strangled. Apollo hides behind riddles, and Hera…” He shook his head. “Her silence is colder than the rest.”
I stepped forward, and Hephaestus inclined his head to me, not with deference, but respect.
“Lord of the Dead,” he greeted. “You’ve felt it, then.”
“I have.”
She stood between us now, her shadow long behind her, her crown a soft gleam of darkness woven through with root and flicker.
“The world above suffers,” she said. “And my mother does not move.”
“She moves,” Hephaestus corrected gently. “But onlyagainst.She’s closed the seasons. Frozen the cycle. Even the animals fall in the woods. There is no food. No growth. She will not listen to any god.”
My queen’s expression did not waver. But I saw the edge of ache in her jaw. “She knows I’ve stayed.”
“She knows,” I said.
“And this is her answer.” Not a question. A truth.
Of course, that was when Hermes arrived. A crackle in the air, a rush of sudden breath. He appeared like he always did, with a half grin, half threat, eyes sharper than most gave him credit for. “Ah,” he said, glancing between us. “The hearth is warm down here. Cozy.”
“Hermes,” I said evenly. “Come to collect more pleas?”
He waved one hand. “No. Come to deliver one.” A pause. His face sobered. “From Olympus.”
Her shoulders stiffened.
“From Zeus.”
Of course it would come to this.
“Let me guess,” she said. “He wants the world to turn again.”
Hermes gave a grim smile. “He wants all of you. Now. Olympus convenes.”
I stepped between her and the god of messengers before I realized I had. “She is no longer his to summon.”
The messenger looked past me. “To be fair, my lord, she’s never belonged to any of us. And that’s the problem.”
My hands curled at my sides. Then she laid hers atop mine. Cool. Steady.
“I’ll go,” she said.
