Do not trust Hades.
Especially not Thanatos.
Tabitha Wysteria
Mal Blackburn had long since lost any true sense of how much time had slipped by since the Underworld had reclaimed her, drawing her back into its stifling embrace, branding her once more as a creature belonging to the dominion of death. In the restless hours of night, she dreamt of her husband, Ash Acheron, and the cruel final words he had spoken to her, words that splintered her heart into pieces. She longed to believe they were false, that the bond they shared had been more than illusion.
You must stop loving me.
It was what she must do, if she were to save him. And yet, how could she? If they were truly cursed to love one another, how could she tear that love from her soul?
‘Melinoe.’
The name slipped into her awareness like a thread of smoke. Mal knew she had to find Allegra, the witch who could teach her to wield her craft, to save the wyverian and wolverian forcesbefore all was lost. Yet the path stretched before her, dark and unknowable. Being back in the Underworld…
‘Melinoe.’
‘What?’she snapped, her fingers clenching tightly around the silver fork as she lifted her gaze. Across the vast dining table, Thanatos sat watching her, his expression carved with worry. He had not ceased to look at her thus since her reluctant return to the land of the dead.
‘You—’
Before he could continue, the heavy doors to the grand hall flew open with a resonant crash. In strode Hades, his crimson eyes alight with a volatile brew of amusement and anger. He crossed the space in a few languid strides, halting beside Mal, his hand descending to her shoulder in a punishing grip.
‘Welcome back, Melinoe,’ he purred, his voice thick with mock delight. ‘I always knew you would come crawling back to yourtruefamily.’
Mal knew she ought to restrain herself.
But she didn't.
Before thought could intervene, she twisted the fork in her hand and drove it into Hades' outstretched palm.
He barely flinched. An eyebrow lifted in mild curiosity as he pulled his hand away, studying the fork now embedded in his pale flesh.
‘And what, pray tell, was that for?’ he asked.
‘For everything,’ Mal hissed through gritted teeth.
Hades sighed, an exaggerated, weary sound. ‘And here I had hoped I would be dealing with a grown woman, not a petulant child.’
‘And here I had hoped,’ Mal returned icily, ‘to be dealing with a man and not a scheming, lying bastard.’
‘Melinoe.’ Thanatos’ black eyes gleamed, sharpened by awarning he did not voice aloud.
She ignored him. Her attention was wholly fixed on the figure standing but a few paces away, the one now tugging the fork free from his hand and letting it clatter carelessly to the ground.
‘Did you know?’ she asked, her voice low and laced with accusation.
‘You'll need to be a touch more specific, dear,’ Hades drawled, entirely unruffled.
Mal tapped her fingers restlessly against the black stone table, each hollow knock echoing through the cavernous hall. ‘Did you know the witches would entrap my army? Did you know of their plans?’
Hades licked his lips, a slow, thoughtful gesture. ‘Not really, no.’
‘Why do I not believe you?’
He offered a shrug, infuriating in its casualness. ‘Well, Melinoe, that sounds very much like ayouproblem. I’ve been nothing but honest.’
Mal snorted, a harsh, humourless sound. ‘Oh, really? You somehow forgot to mention the part where you brought me here to train, to fashion me into the God-Killer.’
