A Touch of Darkness (Hades x Persephone Saga Book 1)

Persephone watered her garden, cursing Hades while she worked. She hoped he could hear every word. She hoped it cut him deep. She hoped he felt it every time he moved.

He’d ignored her.

He’d dumped her in the Underworld like she was nothing.

She had questions. She had demands. She wanted to know why he’d helped the woman, why he’d demanded her silence. What was the difference in this woman’s request and Orpheus’ wish to bring Eurydice back from the dead?

When she finished watering her garden, she tried to teleport back to Hades’ office, but when snapping her fingers didn’t work, she realized she was stuck.

Then she tried cursing Hades’ name, and when that didn’t work, she kicked the garden wall.

Why did he send her here? Did he have plans to find her after he was finished with Hermes? Would he restore her favor, or would she have to find him every time she wanted to enter the Underworld?

That would be annoying.

She must have made him very angry.

She decided she would explore his palace in his absence. She had only seen a few rooms—Hades’ office, bedchamber, and the throne room. She was curious about the rest, and it was well within her rights to explore. If Hades got mad, she could argue that, judging by the state of her garden, it would be her home in six months anyway.

While she investigated, she noted Hades’ attention to detail. There were gold accents and various textures—fur rugs and velvet chairs. It was a luxurious palace, and she admired the beauty of it, just as she admired the beauty of Hades. She tried to argue with herself—it was in her nature to admire beauty. It didn’t mean anything to think the God of the Dead and his palace were extraordinary. He was a god, after all.

Her exploration of the palace ended when she found the library.

It was magnificent. She had never seen anything like it—shelves and shelves of books with gorgeous, thick spines and gold embossing. The room itself was well-furnished. A large hearth took up the far wall, flanked by dark shelves. These weren’t full of books, but ancient clay vases inked with images of Hades and the Underworld. She could imagine settling into one of the cozy chairs, curling her toes into the soft rug, and reading for hours.

This would be one of her favorite places, Persephone decided, if she lived here.

But she should not be thinking about living in the Underworld at all. Maybe, after all of this was over, Hades would extend his favor to the use of his library.

She wondered idly if there was a kiss for that.

She wandered down the stacks, brushing her fingers along the spines. She managed to pull a few history books and searched for a table where she could look through them. She thought she finally located one when she found what looked like a round table, but when she went to place the books on it, she discovered it was actually a basin full of dark water, similar to the Styx.

She set the books on the floor to get a better look at the basin. As she stared, a map appeared before her; she could see the river Styx and the Lethe, Hades’ palace and gardens. Though the map appeared to sit in the black water, glorious color as vibrant as Hades’ gardens soon bled across the landscape. She found it funny that the God of the Dead, who wore so much black, took such pleasure in color.

“Hmm.” Persephone was sure this map was missing vital parts of the Underworld—like Elysium and Tartarus. “Strange.” She reached into the basin.

“Curiosity is a dangerous quality, my lady.”

She gasped and turned to find Hades behind her, framed by a set of shelves. Her heart throbbed hard in her chest.

“I’m more than aware,” she snapped. The mark on her wrist had taught her that. “And don’t call me my lady.” Hades simply watched her, saying nothing, so Persephone added, “This map of your world is not complete.”

Hades glanced at the water. “What do you see?”

“Your palace, Asphodel, the River Styx and the Lethe…that’s it.” All places she’d been before. “Where is Elysium? Tartarus?”

The corners of Hades mouth quirked. “The map will reveal them when you’ve earned the right to know.”

“What do you mean earned?”

“Only those I trust most may view this map in its entirety.”

She straightened. “Who can see the whole map?” He just smirked, so she demanded, “Can Minthe see it?”

His eyes narrowed. “Would that bother you, Lady Persephone?”

“No,” she lied.

His eyes hardened and his lips thinned; he turned and disappeared into the stacks. She hurried to pick up the books she pulled from the shelf and followed after him.

“Why did you revoke my favor?” she demanded.

“To teach you a lesson,” he replied.

“To not bring mortals into your realm?”

“To not leave when you are angry with me,” he said.

“Excuse me?” she halted and set the books on a nearby shelf. She hadn’t expected that reply.

Hades stopped, too, and faced her. They were standing in the narrow stacks, and the smell of dust floated in the air around them. “You strike me as someone who has a lot of emotions and has never quite been taught how to deal with it all, but I can assure you, running away is not the solution.”

“I had nothing more to say to you.”

“It’s not about words,” he said. “I’d rather help you understand my motivations than have you spy on me.”

“It was not my intention to spy,” she said. “Hermes—”

“I know it was Hermes who pulled you into that mirror,” he said. “I do not wish for you leave and be angry with me.”

She should have taken his comment as endearing, but she couldn’t stop herself from sounding disgusted when she asked, “Why?”

It really wasn’t disgust; it was confusion. Hades was a god, why did he care what she thought of him?

“Because,” he said, and then thought for a moment. “It is important to me. I would rather explore your anger. I would hear your advice. I wish to understand your perspective.” She started to open her mouth and ask why again, when he added, “Because you have lived among mortals. You understand them better than I. Because you are compassionate.”

She swallowed. “Why did you help the mother tonight?”

“Because I wished to.”

“And Orpheus?”

Hades sighed, rubbing his eyes with his forefinger and thumb. “It isn’t so simple. Yes, I have the ability to resurrect the dead, but it does not work with everyone, especially where the Fates are involved. Eurydice’s life was cut short by the Fates for a reason. I cannot touch her.”

“But the girl?”

“She wasn’t dead, just in limbo. I can bargain with the Fates for lives in limbo.”

“What do you mean bargain with the Fates?”

“It is a fragile thing,” he said. “If I ask the Fates to spare one soul, I do not get a say in the life of another.”

“But…you are the God of the Underworld!”

“And the Fates are Divine,” he said. “I must respect their existence as they respect mine.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

Hades raised a brow. “Doesn’t it? Or is it that it doesn’t sound fair to mortals?”

It was exactly that. “So, mortals have to suffer for the sake of your game?”

Hades’ jaw tightened. “It is not a game, Persephone. Least of all mine.”

His stern voice gave her pause, and she glared at him. “So, you’ve offered an explanation for part of your behavior, but what of the other bargains?”

Hades’ eyes darkened, and he took a step toward her in the already-restricted space. “Are you asking for yourself or the mortals you claim to defend?”

“Claim?” She would show him—her arguments against his tricks were not for show.

“You only became interested in my business ventures after you entered into a contract with me.”

“Business ventures? Is that what you call willfully misleading me?”

His brows rose. “So, this is about you.”

“What you have done is unjust—not just to me but to all the mortals—”

“I do not want to talk about mortals. I would like to talk about you.” Hades moved toward her, and she took a step away, the bookcase pressing into her back. “Why did you invite me to your table?”

Persephone looked away. “You said you’d teach me.”

“Teach you what, Goddess?” He stared at her a moment, eyes seductive and dark. Then his head dropped into the crook of her neck and his lips brushed lightly over her skin. “What did you truly desire to learn then?”

“Cards,” she whispered, but she could barely breathe, and she knew she was lying. She’d wanted to learn him—the feel of him, the smell of him, the power of him.

He whispered words against her skin. “What else?”

She dared to turn her head then, and his lips brushed hers.

Her breath caught hard in her throat. She couldn’t answer—wouldn’t. His mouth remained close to hers, but he didn’t kiss her, he waited.

“Tell me.”

His voice was hypnotic, and his warmth had her under a wicked spell. He was the adventure she craved. He was temptation she wanted to indulge. He was a sin she wanted to commit.

Her eyes fluttered closed and her lips parted. She thought he might claim her then, but when he didn’t, she took a deep breath, her chest rising against his, and said, “Just cards.”

He drew back, and Persephone opened her eyes. She thought she caught his surprise just before it melted into an unreadable mask.

“You must wish to return home,” he said, and started down the stacks. If she wasn’t talking to the God of the Dead, she would have thought he was embarrassed. “You may borrow those books, if you wish.”

She gathered them into her arms and quickly followed after him. “How? You withdrew my favor.”

He turned to her, his gaze emotionless. “Trust me, Lady Persephone. If I stripped you of my favor, you would know.”

“So, I’m Lady Persephone again?”

“You have always been Lady Persephone, whether you choose to embrace your blood or not.”

“What is there to embrace?” she asked. “I’m an unknown god at best—and a minor one at that.”

She hated the look of disappointment that shadowed his face. “If that is how you think of yourself, you will never know power.”

Her lips parted in surprised, and she noted how his eyes tightened right before his hand twitched—he was about to send her away without warning again.

“Don’t,” she commanded, and Hades paused. “You asked that I not leave when I’m angry and I’m asking you not to send me away when you’re angry.”

He dropped his hand. “I am not angry.”

“Then why did you drop me in the Underworld earlier?” she asked. “Why send me away at all?”

“I needed to speak with Hermes,” he said.

“And you couldn’t say that?”

He hesitated.

“Don’t request things of me you cannot deliver yourself, Hades.”

He stared at her. She wasn’t sure what she expected of him—that her demands would make him angry? That he would argue that this was different? That he was a powerful god and he could do what he willed?

Instead, he nodded. “I will grant you that courtesy.”

She took a breath, relieved. “Thank you.”

He extended his hand. “Come, we can return to Nevernight together. I have…unfinished business there.”

She took him up on the offer, and they teleported back to his office, appearing right in front of the mirror she and Hermes had hidden inside.

Persephone tilted her head back so she could meet his eyes. “How did you know we were in there? Hermes said we couldn’t be seen.”

“I knew you were here because I could feel you.”

His words made her shiver, and she withdrew from his warmth, picked up her backpack where she’d left it on the couch, and heaved it on her shoulders. On the way out the door, she paused. “You said the map is only visible to those you trust. What does it take to gain the trust of the God of the Dead?”

He responded simply, “Time.”