She flew down the hallway, and any servant that crossed her path flattened against the wall in hopes to avoid her notice. Kore didn’t take her passions out on the lesser individuals before her as so many spurned beings did. 

Hades’ respect for her soared.

After the Daemon Queen rounded a corner, and disappeared, Hades filed into the throne room. 

A flurry of nymphs raced around the room as Hera barked orders at them. 

Hestia and Athena conversed with a sickly-looking Zeus covered in welts the size of Hades’ fists. 

Every so often, Zeus’ boisterous voice rose above his wife’s, and the entire room shuddered with an insult Kore couldn’t hear. Once, he called for a small militia to chase her down, but Athena convinced him otherwise. 

As Hades gazed at his brother, his frustration grew. “Why was she here?” he demanded as he advanced on Zeus’ throne. 

Hestia and Athena stepped back. 

Hades noticed what little color Hestia had had before he’d left on his mission had vanished, and Hades could have torn Zeus limb-from-limb. 

Why was she out here, away from her sickbed and much-needed rest? 

Why had Zeus forced her to partake in his meeting with Kore? 

Was he that afraid of the under-dweller, that he’d planned to throw his injured sister before the Daemon Queen? 

Zeus shrugged and held out his hand. 

A nymph materialized with a goblet of nectar and gave it to him before she rushed to complete Hera’s instructions. 

“Why does she always come to the Upperworld? To pester me and make a mockery of herself.” 

His brother’s forced nonchalance spoke volumes, and Hades groaned. Zeus couldn’t have done the unthinkable. Not again. 

“We need more forces.” 

“We’re fine.” 

In the war’s early days, Zeus had fought on the front lines, the admirable example of a perfect leader. Then the gods had conquered Mount Olympus and Zeus had declared it the gods’ center of power, much like Mount Othrys was for the Titans. 

From that moment on, Zeus had left the mountain less and less. He only ventured out if his might would sway an essential group of potential allies or if his followers grumbled too loudly about his inaction. 

He hadn’t seen bloodshed in over a year. 

Yet all his generals brought him detailed reports. Athena never hesitated to tell her father the state of the war. Zeus knew the gods were losing. The eagerness their rebellion had first sparked had faded, and many tribes had either abandoned them or joined Cronus. 

Zeus’ refusal for help churned Hades’ stomach. 

What was wrong with him? 

What had happened to the god who’d singlehandedly infiltrated Cronus’ palace and freed his siblings? 

Then, Zeus had understood he couldn’t accomplish his goal by himself and had appreciated the support. Then, Zeus had been a king Hades would have followed anywhere. 

“How are we fine?” Hades asked. “Why won’t you accept that we can’t do this alone? We aren’t invincible.” 

Zeus pounded his goblet against his throne, and nectar sloshed onto the floor. “We are the gods! Better than those before us. Better than anyone after us.” 

Hades shook his head. 

Zeus hadn’t inherited their father’s capacity for cruelty, but almost every other of Cronus’ traits had manifested in his youngest son. If Hades had known fifteen years prior what Zeus would become, he wouldn’t have joined his brother in his crusade to topple the Titans. 

 

He was no longer convinced Zeus wouldn’t become Cronus if he won the cosmos. 

“We’re pathetic.”

Zeus threw his goblet, and it glanced off Hera’s calf. 

She stumbled, and three nymphs steadied her before she collapsed. Hera glared at her husband, but he didn’t glimpse her way. She slapped the nymphs away, composed herself, and hurried from the room. 

Zeus sat forward. His face had darkened to a shade Hades had only seen once when Athena had been brought to Mount Olympus gutted and near death. He’d killed three healers that had failed to fix Athena’s wounds and had almost fried Apollo when his methods had caused Athena more pain before putting her on the mend. 

His brother’s maddening rage had intimidated Hades. Infuriated, Zeus was capable of anything, and this was when he was most like Cronus. 

At the beginning of the war, Hades had been dealing with the decades of torment the Titan King had inflicted on his five oldest children (most centered on Hades). He’d avoided anything that reminded him of his past. 

That had been years ago, and Hades had long left his insecure, timid self behind. Now, he was more apt to lash out at anyone who embodied his father, if just slightly. He didn’t know if his rush to anger was an improvement, but he preferred it over cowering in the corner. 

“Pathetic?” Zeus said. The forced calm of his tone drew all attention in the room, and the next moment, the nymphs fled. 

Athena stepped closer to her father. “Take a moment to—” 

“Have you lost faith in our cause?” Zeus spoke over his daughter. 

The truth danced on Hades’ tongue, had for months. 

Their side had lost more lives than they’d taken. Most of their food and weapon suppliers had been destroyed, though only those in the know would have any idea, not with how Zeus carried on and his city plans progressed. 

At his most optimistic, Hades didn’t see them making it through the coming fall.

But he didn’t speak any of this. Multiple times, Hades had confessed his concerns and grievances. Athena had backed him up, yet her added bleak premonitions hadn’t convinced Zeus to rethink his current course. Hades couldn’t bear being ignored again. 

“Why do you think help makes us weak? Why do you do everything possible to ensure our failure?” Hades asked instead.  

Zeus smirked. “If you think that, then chase after that under-dweller. Grovel at her feet. But leave, and you’ll be banished; considered a traitor.” 

Since meeting his brother, Hades had battled between liking Zeus and wishing he didn’t exist. With Zeus’ increasing bouts of laziness, Hades found he despised him more often than he could tolerate him. 

Many a night, he dreamed of strangling Zeus. Sometimes to death, sometimes until his brother grew sense.  

In one rush, Hades’ hatred broke fresh ground. His fingers twitched. 

Today, he’d make his imaginings a reality. 

Hestia took Hades’ hand. Concern twisted her swollen features, and the lava-quality of her gaze intensified, as it did whenever she was upset. “Action will gain you nothing.” 

Though he wished otherwise, Hestia’s calm washed over Hades and wrangled his thoughts into saner territory. As so many times before, only her sound reasoning kept him in check, prevented him from indulging in violent desires they both knew he’d regret. 

No, he wouldn’t kill Zeus. But he couldn’t let his brother’s ego go unpunished, either. 

“This isn’t done as a challenge,” Hades announced.

He punched Zeus in the jaw. 

Zeus’ head snapped back, and his skull cracked against his throne. He roared for all of Mount Olympus to hear, and Athena called for a healer. 

Hestia shook her head. “Hades...” 

Without comment, Hades walked out of the throne room; passed a handful of terrified nymphs hurrying to their pissed master. He took several hallways until he reached the bathing chamber Zeus had allotted to his siblings and children. 

Only Bances, the small, turquoise-colored water nymph attached to the mineral bath occupied the room. She roamed the chamber as she checked supplies; her body appeared to ripple like an agitated stream, even when she stood still. She turned with a start when Hades slammed the door shut. 

Bances bowed after a moment; her long, clear hair grazed the stone floor.

“My Lord, sorry I didn’t hear you. I was so consumed with my task.” Bances straightened and pressed a graceful hand to her heaving chest. “Can I help you?” 

“No.” 

Hades needed time alone to process all that had happened the past few days. As much as he enjoyed Bances’ company, she’d try to distract him. She made it a goal that no one left her bathing chamber unhappy, and she could be aggressive in that pursuit. 

Bances frowned. “My Lord, clearly I could assist you in—” 

Hades lifted his lips in a gesture he hoped passed for a smile. “Just this one time, okay?”

The water nymph’s full, foam-colored lips pursed even more. “One time? You promise?” 

Hades nodded. “Would I dare lie to you?” 

The wicked look she gave him highlighted the luminescent sheen of her gaze. “Not if you know what’s good for you, my Lord.”

Hades chuckled. 

Bances gave him one good once-over. She muttered under her breath and pulled together several necessities for his bath. She set them near the pool’s edge closest to Hades. As Bances neared him to leave, the nymph patted his hand. 

Hades worried she’d want to speak more, but she left without another word. 

As soon as the door shut, Hades stripped off his gore encrusted clothing. He tossed them into the nearest roaring hearth. The fire consumed the destroyed fabric within moments. 

Hades watched the flames dance and recalled the sprite who’d distracted him from Coeus. Afresh anger flushed Hades, though not for the creature he’d killed. 

Why hadn’t Hades taken the opportunity to rid Cronus of one his best generals? Why had vengeance mattered more than sense? 

As much as it sickened him to realize it, Hades couldn’t claim himself better than Ares. They both had no place on the battlefield. 

Hades sighed, turned away from the hearth, and eased himself into the mineral bath. 

On top of being an excellent tactician, Athena had quite the knack for construction. Because of her insight, the bath had been built on a naturally heated water source. Though his niece had explained it several times, Hades couldn’t understand how the water filtered itself, so the bath always contained clean water.

Hades didn’t care about the mechanics, just that the water soothed his aching body. It did nothing to touch his wounded soul, but a simple bath couldn’t accomplish that. Only an end to this war would allow Hades the peace of mind he needed to start the healing process.

Well, if the gods won the war. 

Unlike his siblings, Hades hadn’t engaged the Titans with starry-eyed optimism of their success. Though all of them but Zeus had experienced their father’s vileness, Hades and Hestia were the only two who’d seen what the Titans were capable of when they became of one mind. 

It’d take all the gods strength and focus to combat the Titans’ might, and the gods had had little of either in years. 

What were they going to do? 

The gods couldn’t afford to lose. Cronus had been a tyrant since his reign’s start, but Hades knew, if his father won the war, he’d reach lower depths of brutality just to spite. 

Hades shuddered at what would be if he couldn’t relight Zeus’ passion.