Hades would never forget. He’d demanded to die, to be thrown into Tartarus and torn apart by the Titans. Hades refused and Apollo sought revenge by sleeping with his lover at the time, Leuce.
Guilt slammed into him as he recalled the aftermath. He’d turned Leuce into a poplar tree, and she’d remained that way up until about three years ago when she’d returned to her true form. Despite their past, Persephone had taken the woman under her wing and now the water nymph was living on her own and working for Persephone at The Advocate.
In the end, everything had turned out well, but Hades would never forgive himself for punishing Leuce.
“We should speak with Hyacinth,” said Persephone.
“You should speak with Hyacinth,” said Lexa. “These two idiots will just make everything worse.”
Thanatos frowned, staring down at her while Hades pursed his lips.
“I agree that Thanatos and I do not have a way with words, but you could have left out the idiot part,” he said.
“Apollo should ask himself if he regrets the time he spent with Hyacinth. If the answer is no, then losing him is worth the pain.” Lexa’s cheeks reddened as she spoke. “Come on, Ian, Zofie. Let’s cut these trees down.”
She stormed ahead and the two followed.
Hades looked at Thanatos. “Something tells me she wasn’t talking about Apollo and Hyacinth.”
“Shut up,” the God of Death replied, following after Lexa, leaving Persephone and Hades alone with Hecate.
“Well,” said Hecate, watching them go. “It wouldn’t be Christmas in the Underworld without a little bit of chaos.”
“You call this a little bit of chaos?” said Hades.
The goddess raised a brow. “Oh, Hades. You know I could do so much worse.”
“Please, Hecate,” said Persephone. “For the love of the twins, do not take that as a challenge.”
Hecate slipped her arm through Persephone’s.
“Only because you asked,” she said.
Hades let the two walk ahead while he lingered in the snow-laden grove. He paused long enough to take a breath, releasing it in a puff of cloudy air as a few stray pieces of ice drifted down from the gray sky, striking him hard on his forehead and cheeks.
It was a reminder to keep his emotions in check. If he wasn’t careful, the Underworld would go from a picturesque winter wonderland to a frozen wasteland.
“Timber!”
Ian’s call was followed by a loud crack and a chorus of screams.
“Fucking Fates,” Hades hissed, racing through the snow, heart beating hard as he tried to prepare himself for what he’d find in the clearing ahead, but as he broke through the tree line, the sound of cheering slowed his steps.
Nothing was wrong. The children had only screeched with excitement, not fear or pain.
As he stood at the edge of the crowd, he felt Hecate approach.
“This anxiety is not good for you, Hades,” she said.
“I’m fine,” he said gruffly, though he knew otherwise. He felt like the walls were closing in, trapping him in the same dark labyrinth that had threatened to take everything from him during the Olympian War.
Logically, he knew that wasn’t possible.
The labyrinth had been destroyed, and the one who’d put him there, chained in Tartarus.
But there were other threats, ones he might not see if he let himself become content.
He tensed at the feel of Hecate’s hand on his arm.
