He’s right. That’s what makes this whole bloody thing so devastating. That’s what leaves the tension in my chest coiling tighter and tighter with no hope or chance of release.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Hades raises a brow at me. It’s a supercilious gesture, but I don’t bother to snap at him over it.

  “What was that?”

  “I said, it doesn’t matter.” My hands tighten on the arms of my throne. “It doesn’t matter if she’s nothing like her mother. Or if she’s brave, or smart, or powerful. Aphrodite’s forced my hand, Hades. This is the only way left to me to take back my freedom. There is no other way.”

  There have been days where the only thought to keep me moving has been my plans for revenge. I knew Aphrodite could be a catty bitch; that was why I turned her down in the first place. I’d been at the height of my power then, with thousands of followers offering worship, praying for victory as they warred against their enemies. Kingdoms could and would rise and fall in a day. I didn’t have time for the amount of bullshit that came along with the Goddess of Love’s whims, no matter how beautiful she was.

  I’d known she was pissed with my refusal, but I hadn’t paid it any thought. She was a Goddess of Love, for fuck’s sakes. What could she do to me? She’d move on, find another male to sink her claws into, and I could get back to my battlefields where mortal men spent their blood like coin for land and honor and glory.

  Unfortunately, ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’ hadn’t been a popular saying in those days, or maybe I would have paid more attention. Hell, maybe Aphrodite was the one who coined the phrase in the first place. Regardless, I was accustomed to war, to charges and flanking, to feints and parries. I didn’t see the sideways attack coming until it was already far too late.

  It had been Zeus who had come to me, saying there was unrest in the Underworld. That Hades had requested support in dealing with one of the Gardens. It had been a thinly veiled order, since we both knew there was no way that Zeus would ever set foot in a place where there were no women for him to seduce. Or do anything that required effort on his part.

  But it hadn’t been Hades who’d mentioned as much to him. It had been Aphrodite whispering in his ear, and she’d known exactly what would happen, even if I hadn’t.

  The second I set foot in the Fifth Garden, I’d barely even gotten a glance at how withered and desiccated everything had become, before the weakened, desperate realm snapped shut on me like a bear trap.

  When I realized I couldn’t fight my way free through brute force, and that even Hades himself couldn’t loosen my chain, my rage had torn the very earth apart. Gone were the trees and the river beds, and in their place, volcanoes tearing through the ground, spewing magma like fury into the air.

  Trapped.

  Cut off from my worshippers.

  Unable to even hear their prayers, much less answer them. My worshippers diminished, and my power base crippled. All because I told that bitch ‘no’.

  I was unable to leave. Aphrodite was out of my reach, and I could only occasionally push a message through to Olympus.

  For all the fucking good that did.

  So, I sat in the dark. And I waited. And I planned. And I plotted.

  Centuries upon centuries spent planning my revenge. And now, it all tastes like ash in my mouth.

  Hades snorts, and its unexpected enough that I can’t even be offended. I just stare at him.

  He takes a drink from his chalice, rolling the wine over his tongue. Just like that, all of his power is folded away again, and he reclines on the chaise that he summoned for himself, a velvet monstrosity that looks as out of place in my shadowed throne room as a moose in the desert.

  He smacks his lips obnoxiously, and its only the knowledge that he’s doing it deliberately to get a rise out of me that allows me to keep a rein on my temper. Hades has good council, when he chooses to use his brain for things other than figuring out the placement of limbs for an orgy.

  “It might be the only way you can think of,” he says, filling his cup with more wine. He raises it to me in a little mocking toast. “That doesn’t mean that there aren’t other ways, my friend.”

  My eyes narrow in suspicion. I’ve known Hades a long, long time. He might play the fool, but I’d still trust him over ninety percent of the vapid masses of Olympus. I don’t think he would betray me, not just to get a chance of having a taste of Aphrodite’s daughter. No, we are too close for that. At least, I hope we are.

  “If you know something, speak plainly,” I grit out.

  One shoulder left bare by his gaudy chiton rises and falls in a negligent shrug. Hades takes another drink, clearly more interested in his wine than he is in our conversation. My throne makes a sound of tortured metal as my grip tightens enough to rip the armrests free.

  Hades shoots me a look that’s somewhere between amusement and something shrewder. “Penelope is in this situation with you, now. You’ve admitted that she is bright, and brave, and determined. Did you ever consider, perhaps, asking her to help you?”

  His words land like a solid blow to my body, knocking me breathless for an instant. Because, no, I haven’t. I’ve never asked for help, not since Olympus made it clear they had no interest in exerting themselves on my behalf. There was no one to ask for aid. And it is simply not in my nature to depend on others.

  So the question now becomes: which is worth more to me? My pride? Or my freedom?

  Eventually, I reluctantly shake my head. “She would not help me.”

  “How do you know?”

  I shrug. “She would not move against her own mother in such a way.”

  Hades stares at me for a long moment, and I cannot read his face. Finally, he nods.

  “Yes, of course, her mother. Who would ever move against their own family,” Hades says in a voice that sounds like agreement, and yet I can’t help but feel as if he’s mocking me.

  The death god goes to take another sip of his wine, but then straightens up like he’s only just remembered something. “Say, have you noticed the curse that Penelope has been saddled with?”

  I frown. “What curse?”

  I didn’t look closely. I was concerned for Penelope as a necessary part of my revenge, not as a person in her own right. The thought is uncomfortable now, and I straighten up in my throne to try and quiet it.

  “The curse that Aphrodite, her mother, placed upon her in an attempt to control her and force her to return to Olympus and under her mother’s thumb.” Hades takes another sip, obvious enjoyment painted across his features. “This truly is a fine vintage, Ares. Are you certain you don’t wish to try some?”

  My head rocks back in surprise. “Aphrodite cursed her?”

  Her own daughter? I doubt Penelope could have done something worthy of such a punishment. It’s likely exactly as Hades says: an attempt at exerting control, to force her daughter’s hand. Does Aphrodite even truly see Penelope? As a person, and not just an extension of herself?

  Do I?

  That thought is accompanied by something very close to shame. I haven’t seen her as anything other than the spawn of her mother. Worse than that.

  “I hadn’t looked,” I admit quietly. It feels like an unforgivable oversight, now.

  Hades raises his brow in a rather scathing arch. “Perhaps you should reconsider things. Having an ally that’s brave, and smart, and powerful might just come in handy. The fact that she’s also one of the most beautiful women to have ever been born certainly doesn’t hurt,” Hades adds with a wink and a leer. “And though I truly do not wish to see you leave my realm for my own sake, I do understand your desire for your freedom.”

  I haven’t much thought of what Hades would do if I were restored to Olympus. I would certainly try to remedy his situation as best I could, if that day ever comes.

  A wicked gleam enters Hades’ eyes. “But back to Penelope,” he says slyly. “I believe you should consider her a worthy ally. After all, she’s already managed to escape you twice.”

  I jerk in my throne, and immediately send my power out, searching. The Realm answers my command, though it’s sluggish and resentful, but it tells me what I want to know, and my shoulders relax.

  “Nice try,” I say, grimly. “She’s still in her chambers.”

  Hades throws back his head and laughs. For once, it isn’t sardonic, and while it’s a little mocking, its also genuine, and that’s enough to surprise me.

  He grins, white teeth brilliant against the dark of his beard. “Is she? Are you certain?”

  Normally, I wouldn’t rise to the bait. But Hades’ mood is strange today, and it makes me hesitate to dismiss him outright. Though, if this is an elaborate prank, I’ll put my fist in his face, God of the Underworld or not.

  I send my power out again, seeking, testing, pushing harder.

  “Fuck,” I snarl, shoving up hard enough to crush the metal of my throne at the sides. “Fates bedamn it all to oblivion.”

  Hades laughs again as I storm out of the room to track down my wayward prisoner, yet again. If she makes it back to the gate with her sister’s soul, then my plans will be well and truly fucked.

  Just before I’m out of hearing range, I catch the echo of Hades’ voice.

  “I haven’t had this much fun in centuries,” the Death God announces to no one in particular.

  I growl, and set off on my hunt.

  ELEVEN

  PEN

  I run.

  It’s stupid, and I know it, but I can’t just stand here and wait for Ares to come for me. I can’t fight. I can’t hide. But I also can’t just lay down and die.

  I’m moving almost before my brain manages to give my feet the signal, bolting down the hallway and abandoning all attempts at stealth.

  I need to find Janie. That’s all that matters. Find her and get out. The words become a drumbeat in my head, a second pulse. Find Janie, find Janie, find Janie.

  My feet slam against the stone floor, hard enough that I can feel the shock of it all the way up to my knees. My palm is slick with sweat where it’s pressed against the strangely warm metal of the helm in my arms. I have the key, I just need my sister.

  I don’t even hear any pursuit over the pounding of blood in my ears. Maybe it shocked Ares that I just bolted like that. Maybe he’s used to people standing their ground. Well, screw that. My pride isn’t worth my life, and it’s sure as shit not worth my sister’s.

  Ahead of me, the hallway ripples. It’s like something out of a heat mirage, some quake through the walls of reality. And then, suddenly, Ares is just in front of me, and my boots slide against the floor as I try desperately to keep from crashing into him.

  My heart plummets to my feet, breath stuttering in my lungs. Ares is the Lord of the Fifth Gate so of course his realm will answer to him and his will. I guess I just never considered exactly what that meant before.

  I backpedal, trying to keep some distance between us as my thoughts spiral like a flock of panicked birds. What the hell am I going to do? He’s a god, and this is his realm, however resentful he is about that. How do I run if he can just warp the realm itself to dump me right back where he wants me? My brain locks up like a jammed engine, despair weighing my bones down like they’ve been coated in lead.

  I never really had a chance, did I?

  Ares reaches for me, snatching my wrist as I hold up my hand to him, like its going to do any good in warding him off. His fingers close around my arm like a steel cuff snapping shut. I can feel the strength in his hand. His bones feel as immovable as concrete.

  And what I do then? I honestly don’t know what comes over me. Maybe it’s just instinct. Maybe it’s my body’s last desperate attempt to survive. Maybe it’s just that fact that Adonis did his best to drill whatever combat moves he could into my head once he realized that my sword work was laughable.

  In the end, it doesn’t really matter what causes it.

  All that matters is the result.

  Ares’s hand locks onto my wrist, and I let my knees go loose, throwing myself backwards towards the floor. Ares gives a little grunt of surprise, but he doesn’t move or shift. My weight isn’t a burden. I’m not sure it even registers to him. But when I yank back, he leans forward a bit, his brows furrowing, like he’s worried he’s about to rip the wings off a butterfly he’s trying to be gentle with.

  A hysterical little laugh bubbles up in my throat at the idea.

  My move puts him off balance, and I plant my now raised foot into his gut, hauling back with every ounce of strength, physical or magical, in my body.

  I think it’s his shock that allows me to do it. But I manage to pitch the God of War over my head and onto the ground. His grip yanks painfully tight, and then he lets go, like he’s really trying not to cripple me. I’m pretty sure he could have yanked my arm off if he held on.

  Ares hits the ground with a clatter of armor, and I twist around to get my feet under me again. Desperation gives me wings, and I lunge back up to my feet, ready to bolt. If I can get out of his line of sight, maybe it won’t be so easy for him to just twist the castle around me. It’s a small sliver of a chance, but I grab onto it with both hands.

  At least, right up until an unforgiving grip snaps closed on my ankle, and drags my feet out from under me. And down I go. The fall knocks the air out of me with a small grunt. My palms sting when they slap against the stone, and all the while I fight to keep my face from slamming into the ground. The helm clatters away from me with a ring of metal, and I make a grab for it as it rolls away. My fingers just barely brush it, before Ares uses his grip on my leg to haul me backwards down the hallway.

  I twist enough to see his dark, murderous expression as he drags me back towards him. Panicked, I lash out with my free foot, trying to kick him away. He catches my other foot, and if anything, just looks more pissed. He yanks, and I go sliding backwards underneath him.

  I can’t hold back a shiver as I come to a stop, lying on the floor just a few inches beneath his chest. He’s not touching me, but the heat radiating off him is intense enough that he might as well be. It feels like a firm hand resting on my back, making my skin prickle. His arms press against the outside of my shoulders, solid, and immovable.

  Desperation sets its claws into my throat.

  I have to get away. I have to. If not for myself, then for Janie.

  I throw an elbow back, hard, as I try to scramble forwards and away. Ares grunts, more in surprise than pain, I think. Even without metal armor, his chest is hard. It feels like I just bashed my arm into concrete, but I ignore the throb of pain that shoots down to my wrist.

  I almost manage to slide free, when Ares grabs my shoulder. The power in his hands is unforgiving.

  “Stop,” he growls.

  He uses his hold to roll me over and onto my back, and then I find myself staring up into his dark, dark eyes. Each heaving breath brushes my chest against his, and while looking up into the face of the man who would be my murderer, something inside me snaps.

  I go wild; hitting, kicking, even biting when one of his hands gets too close to my face. I rake my nails over any bit of his exposed skin within my reach. I don’t think I’m even making words, just hissing my fear and fury at him like an enraged cat.

  Hades looks unimpressed, right up until I manage to slam my knee into his ribs, hard enough that he actually rocks to the side a little. That makes him pause, and I reach for his eyes while he’s distracted. He jerks his head back, and his lips press into a hard line before peeling back to reveal strong, white teeth.

  “Would. You. Hold. Still?” He snarls the words, his breath coming in sharp bursts. Finally, obviously pissed, he lets his body collapse on top of mine, and nearly crushes my ribs flat in the process.

  It’s so much harder to fight with a wall of muscle and armor lying on top of me, but I still twist and kick, lungs screaming for air.

  I can’t give up. I won’t.

  Ares manages to grab my wrists, pulling them over my head and pinning them there with one huge hand. The other he uses to grab a handful of my hair at the back of my head when I lunge forward to try and sink my teeth into any part of him that’s within reach.

  “Enough!” He wrenches my head back, stretching my neck out like he’s barring it for the blade.

  My pulse slams in my throat, like a living thing desperate to escape.

  I can’t get free. I can’t fight. My breasts are crushed flat against the leather of his breastplate and my ribs aren’t doing much better. I have my magic, for whatever good that will do me. Most things I can try will hurt me more than him, and I’d rather fling myself into a volcano than do what he accused me of earlier and use my power to manipulate him.

  All I’ve got left is my mouth, and if he thinks I’m going to go out meek and quiet, he’s got another think coming.

  “Fuck you,” I snarl at him as tears begin to bleed from my eyes. I tilt my face as much as I can, my scalp burning from the tug of my hair. “Shove it up your ass, you stupid, stubborn, murdering bastard. You oaf! You prick of a dickhead god! You think I’ll lie down and die quiet for you? Sit on a mother-fucking stalactite!”

  Weirdly, Ares looks less and less angry the longer my rant goes on and possibly even amused. His only real response is the slow climb of his eyebrows up his forehead.

  When I finally run out of what little air I have, and my words make way for desperate, heaving breaths, Ares blinks.

  “Stalactites hang from above so it would be very difficult for me to sit on one,” is his response.

  “I know what they fucking are,” I manage even though I clearly don’t which makes me even angrier. I wish I could bite him. I’m so furious I’m going to scream at the roof the second I actually manage to get some air into my flattened lungs.

  For some reason, that makes him laugh. Just a quiet huff that I feel mostly through his chest, like the rumble of distant thunder.

  I’m not sure who’s more surprised, him or me.

  “Are you laughing at me?” The accusation comes out more of a furious hiss with the last of my air. If his grip weren’t so firm in my hair, I would head butt him.