“Mother, why did you do that?” 

Kakos cackled. “Let’s wake him up so she can do it again.” 

Kore ignored him. “Mother?” 

Melinoe shook her head. “He shouldn’t be here.” 

“That’s my call, not yours.” 

“Upper-dwellers aren’t allowed.” 

“Mother?” 

“Why is he here?” 

Kore didn’t welcome her mother’s questioning. She often spoke to her daughter like she was the reigning supreme in the Underworld, though Melione hadn’t held that position in over two centuries. 

Sometimes Kore wished she’d never offered Melione a place in her court, but her mother would do Kore more harm than good if Kore didn’t keep her close by. 

“That will be revealed shortly. I must speak to the Council.” 

She acknowledged Kakos for the first time since that morning. “Round up the other advisors for an emergency meeting.”

Kakos grinned. “Now, my Queen?” 

They didn’t have much longer until they reached the palace. At their current location, Kore could see the sprawling city that thrived under her rule. 

In his current condition, Kakos would have a grueling time running that distance. He may collapse from exhaustion. 

It’d serve him right. 

“Yes, go inform them.” 

Too much enthusiasm brightened the ice daemon’s expression as he bowed. “My pleasure, my Queen.” 

Kakos hopped off the chariot. His footing wobbled when he landed on the road, but he caught himself. With a jubilant cry better fitting a youngling, her advisor headed in the city’s direction. 

During Kore’s and Kakos’ exchange, Melione had been observing Hades. When Kore returned her attention to her mother, Melione had her fingers, as thin as a spider’s legs, wrapped around the god’s left calf. She licked her lips. 

“He only requires one.” 

“No.” 

“He’ll be much less of threat.” 

“The god will not be harmed as long as he’s my guest.” 

Melione sneered. “An upper-dweller a guest?” She flung Hades’ leg away and straightened. “You keep terrible company.”

Kore could have laughed. 

Melione had been a major supporter of Kore’s and Cronus’ potential union and hadn’t approved of Kore rejecting him. For decades, her mother had tried convincing Kore to accept his advances, even when he’d been married and tales of what the Titan had done to his wife and children had flourished. 

Though Kore had explained her reason for declining, Melione wouldn’t listen. She thought Kore could overpower Cronus, make the Titan King subservient to the Underworld’s will.

When her mother went off on this tirade, Kore reminded Melione of her failed attempt to enslave Tartarus. Every time, Melione quieted, though never for long. 

Without comment, Kore took the reins. She snapped them, and Adrasteia jolted into action. A loud bump followed as Melione was knocked into the side of the chariot, and Kore bit back a snicker. 

It didn’t take long to reach the multi-colored buildings of the gem and mineral city. Citizens paused in their daily activities to pay their queen respect as they watched her pass. Many glanced behind Kore, and their eyes bulged.

 

Kore sighed, yet didn’t reprimand her mother, who no doubt shifted her appearance to resemble several monsters. If Kore spoke up, her mother would act more obnoxious, maybe attack poor souls who couldn’t flee fast enough. 

The modest-sized jade and black diamond palace was in the city’s center, set on a hill much like Zeus’ palace. A decent amount of land surrounded the palace where Kore’s gardens, stables, and cattle were located. 

Kore parked the chariot in the largest stable, the one designed for Adrasteia. 

Three servants appeared and bowed to Kore and her mother.

Kore handed the reins to the two blood daemon stablehands and pointed at the third servant, Crisian (a lampad who’d pledged himself to his queen just before she’d left for the Upperworld).

Crisian stood straighter. “M-My queen?” 

“There’s an unconscious god behind me. Get him cleaned, changed, and put in a room.” 

“Should he be fed?” 

Kore’s lips quivered, but she held her merriment in check. “Have a light meal with plenty of pomegranate juice ready for him when he wakes.” 

Crisian bowed. “Yes, my Queen.” 

The lampad scampered into action and removed Hades from the chariot before his companions could unhook Adrasteia.

For a moment, Kore worried she’d have to battle her mother so Crisian could do his job, but much to Kore’s relief, Melione allowed the lampad to retrieve the god without hassle.   

Once he was gone, Melione looked at her daughter. “Am I invited to the meeting?” 

“How much of a nuisance will you be?” 

“I have some words of protest I’d like to share with the Council if that’s what you mean.”

No surprise there. 

“But will you wound any of them?” 

Melione grinned. “Only those that want me to.” 

She stepped off the chariot and left the stable. 

Kore followed close behind, though once outside, took the path that would lead her quickest to her personal chambers. 

Every servant she passed asked about her health, but she reassured everyone she felt fine. Though she could use a hot bath and a good night’s rest, her words rang mostly with the truth. Since entering the Underworld, energy had filled her. If she’d wanted to, she could have partaken in her favorite sport: hydra wrestling.

Food and drink waited for Kore in her chambers, but she didn’t glance at it when she opened her door. Her abrupt entrance startled Friya, Mulstra’s replacement until the fire daemon recovered. 

In her fright, the burly misery daemon knocked over a pitcher of water. She cursed under her breath as she cleaned the mess with a rag. 

“I’m so sorry, my Queen.” 

Kore stripped off her staff, disgusting peplos, and weather-worn sandals. “Better water than the pomegranates.”

 

Friya nodded, and strands of her hair, as delicate as dried leaves and the color of garnets, fell out of the knot atop her skull. “Yes, my Queen. Would you like me to fetch more water?” 

“No, we don’t have time for that. I need to get ready for the meeting with my Council.” 

The misery daemon needed no further prompting.

Faster than she preferred, Kore was bathed, clothed, and stuffed with too much pomegranate juice. Friya insisted she eat something, so Kore supped on raw cubes of Acheron fish as makeup was applied to mask her travel weariness and illness. 

The finished result didn’t look too convincing, though not from Friya’s lack of effort. 

Friya frowned at her handiwork. “Maybe more rouge will—” 

“I believe this as good as my appearance will get today.” 

“I apologize, my Queen.” 

Kore patted Friya’s hand. “Not even Hecate’s magic could improve me.” 

Relief smoothed the fine lines around the misery daemon’s small mouth and yellow eyes. “Yes, my Queen. Would you like more fish?” 

Kore wiped her fish-scented fingers on a cloth. “No, I shouldn’t waste any more time.” 

“I’ll have a full meal and a musician waiting for your return. Would you like to listen to the syrinx or the askaulos?”

Kore smiled. “Both sound lovely.” 

“Then both will amuse you.” 

“Thank you, Friya.”

The misery daemon bowed but not before Kore caught her broad grin. “My pleasure, my Queen.”

Kore left her chambers and hurried through many hallways to reach her throne room. Like all her decor, pomegranate flowers adorned her bone-encrusted doors, along with realistic impressions of skulls. She admired the delicate craftsmanship for a moment before she threw open the doors. 

Melione, Kakos, and the two other Council members crowded her throne. The Council all bowed when Kore entered the room, even Kakos. 

Melione smirked. 

“They don’t like his presence any more than I do,” Melione said after Kore instructed her Council to rise.

Kore looked at the Council. 

They wore identical expressions of forced calm. Underneath, they seethed. 

“He’s necessary.” 

“According to whom?” Kakos demanded. 

That Gedien, the most senior advisor, let Kakos speak without a snide comment didn’t bode well. Lately, Gedien had been begging her to release Kakos from his position. 

More than once, the two ice daemons had almost fought. They’d destroyed the sphinx rug Kore had made after she’d hunted the creature on one of her rare breaks from ruling. 

“The Fates.” 

Some of the Council’s anger dissipated; Kakos’ included. Melione lost the amused tilt of her head. She clenched her fists. 

“You dare trust a word that comes out of those whores’ mouths?” 

Kore almost laughed. “Your dislike of them doesn’t make them liars.” 

“They have their own agenda.” 

Kore extended her arms. “Don’t we all?” 

The Council found objects in different directions worthy of an intense inspection. 

Kore burst into laughter. “Oh, no need to be coy. If the truth bothered me, do you think you’d still breathe?” 

The Council didn’t answer, but they focused back on their Queen.

 

“What do the Fates want Hades to do here?” Roenin, the youngest member (he’d been appointed the preceding winter, and Kore didn’t know if she liked him yet, but he’d proved logical and had a deep love for all under-dwellers, no matter their station), asked. 

“He needs to free the Hecatoncheires. They’re in Tartarus.” 

The Council all wore blank looks, but not Melione. Her eyes widened, and her hands unclenched. She peered at her daughter. 

“You’ll guide him?”

Kore nodded. “That’s my intention.” 

“We forbid it!” Kakos said, and Gedien and Roenin chimed their agreement. 

“I didn’t call this meeting to consider your stance on my decision. We need to discuss my successor if I don’t return.” 

In the past, the Underworld’s throne had gone to the fiercest daemon who’d dared fight for it. Usually, the bloodshed occurred between the previous ruler’s children, but Kore had yet to reproduce. Without a plan, her people would tear themselves apart in a needless battle. 

She couldn’t let that happen, not after all the effort she’d spent to transform the Underworld into a productive place.

Gedien stepped toward Kore. “My Queen—” 

“You will vote on my successor.” 

Melione shook her head. “That’s not how it’s done.” 

Kore ignored her mother and pinned each Council member with a hard glare. “This city’s progress will not be jeopardized. I want an honest, thoughtful vote.” 

The members glanced at each other. They remained silent so long Kore’s fury spiked. 

Her black mist seeped from her body and crept toward the Council. All three stepped back. 

Melione stayed in place, unaffected.

“You won’t leave here alive unless you agree.” 

Gedien and Roenin agreed right away. Kakos held out several heartbeats more, and the mist shifted direction and circled him. He scowled at it and at Kore. 

“Fine.” 

“Now swear on the Styx.” 

It didn’t take as much time to get their compliance yet was too long for Kore’s liking. 

Luckily, they’d be held to their word. When an under-dweller made an oath on the Styx, the consequences for breaking it were worse than for an upper-dweller. Most often, it resulted in a gruesome, drawn-out death (a fate Kore felt any of them deserved if they let her beautiful city fall to ruin). 

After they swore to her wishes, Kore dismissed her Council. 

They dragged their feet as they left, and Kakos muttered to himself, but Kore didn’t regret upsetting them. Though she wondered (for the thousandth time) if one of them had set up the assassination attempt. None of them had ever served Melione, but Kore knew they’d give anything to return the former queen to her overexaggerated glory. 

“You’re wrong to change the rules.” 

Kore took her throne. “You don’t have to stay here if you don’t like it.”  

Melione thrust her face close to Kore’s. “Aiding the Fates won’t end well for you.” 

Kore believed that, too, but she wouldn’t let her mother know that. She pointed at the door. “I’ve had my fill of your prattling.”

Wicked glee contorted Melione’s features. She didn’t reply but spun on her heel and walked out of the throne room.