“Well, that’s embarrassing for you, Sephy. Aren’t you queen of this hellhole?”
Her eyes widened and then narrowed at his comment. “If you think my realm is a hellhole, why did you ask to stay until Christmas Day?”
“I’m just using a synonym, Sephy. Chill.”
“Hellhole is not a synonym for the Underworld, Hermes. Where do you learn these things?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks a little pink. “I didn’t exactly learn that one,” he admitted. “I overheard it on the street.”
“Hermes,” Persephone chided. “We talked about this.”
The God of Trickery had a habit of picking up phrases and idioms. He often used them incorrectly or misremembered them which led to some awkward situations.
“It sounded cool!” he argued.
“Well, it isn’t,” she said. “And it’s wrong.”
The only part of her realm that could be consider a hellhole was Tartarus, though many mortals thought the entire Underworld was dedicated to eternal torture.
“I didn’t mean it, Sephy,” said Hermes.
“Next time you hear something like that, you should take the time to educate. I am sure several mortals would love to hear about your successful reign as the champion of the Annual Underworld Snowball Fight.”
He grinned. “You think so?”
“Of course,” said Hecate, gliding toward the doors. “There is no way for them to know the truth.”
“Are you calling me a liar, Hecate?” Hermes whirled, trailing behind.
“I would never.” Hecate’s reply echoed in the hallway.
Persephone looked at her belly, hands on either side as she spoke. “Please, for the love of all that is good and gracious in the world, do not take after them,” she said. It was both a plea and a prayer, one she wasn’t sure would be heard or answered as she left her suite to follow her friends.
Chapter 2
Persephone
Persephone found Hades in the ballroom. He had changed into more appropriate clothing for the impending winter weather: a dark pair of jeans, a thick sweater, and a wool jacket. In the time she had gone to change, he had showered, his hair slicked back and tied.
The moment she entered the room, his gaze shifted to her and her entire body flushed. She used to think this feeling would end, that her days of swooning over her partner were numbered. That’s what the gods—in particular, her mother—had taught her to expect, and yet the intensity of their relationship had not ebbed, even as they transitioned into a more mundane life post-war.
If anything, she felt more in love than ever, but maybe that had something to do with the pregnancy. She was certainly more emotional. Every time she thought of Hades as a father, butterflies erupted in her stomach. There was something so intense about this entire experience, especially since Hades had always wanted children.
Hades smiled as she approached, his hands framing her belly.
“Darling,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “What are you thinking?”
She smiled. “I am thinking about how handsome you look.”
There was a tinge of doubt in the arch of his brow, but whatever he might have said next was forgotten at the sound of Hermes gagging.
Hades glared at the God of Mischief. “Are you declaring war early, puffball?”
“Puffball? Is that the best you got, snowman?” Hermes asked, bouncing on his feet, as though he were preparing for a fight. “Get it?”
“No one gets anything you say, Hermes,” said Apollo, entering the ballroom from the hallway with Hyacinth. They were both dressed in black winter gear. The God of Music smiled. “Hey, Seph.”
“Good morning, Apollo, Hyacinth,” she said.
