Still, the article refused to lay blame on the God of Music, stating, “The allegations have yet to be confirmed. Divine Entertainment has reached out to Apollo’s representatives, though they have declined to issue a statement at this time.”

Probably because Apollo needs a new oracle, she thought.

Persephone noticed something green in her peripheral and turned to find vines sprouting from the windowsill and climbing up the glass. Fueled by her anger, they were growing fast. She slammed her hand against them, as if she were smashing an insect and tore them down.

Gods she was a disaster.

“You okay?” Persephone jumped and turned to find Jaison.

He looked awful.

“Have you slept?” she asked.

He offered a weary smile. “Here and there.”

“You should rest,” she encouraged. “You can go to our apartment. It’s closer than yours.”

“I don’t...what if something happens while I’m gone? Or asleep? What if I miss…”

Persephone knew what he was going to say—what if he missed saying goodbye? She had no response to that because she wondered the same thing.

“The doctors said her vitals were better today.”

Jaison just nodded. Something else was on his mind. He toed the ground, hands in his pockets and then sat down on the already-cramped windowsill. Persephone shifted, watching him intently.

“Did Hades say he could help?” he spoke fast, like he wanted to get the words out so this conversation could be over.

Persephone didn’t think that question would hurt so much, but it stole her breath. She pressed her lips tight, her eyes watered.

“He said...we haven’t lost her yet.”

Jaison nodded. “I figured.”

Persephone’s brows drew together. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, choosing not to look at her. “He’s the God of the Dead, not the God of the Living. Why would he save a life when he can gain another resident?”

“Hades isn’t like that,” Persephone said. “There’s more to it than you think. The Fates—”

“So he says,” Jaison replied. “But...how do you really know that’s true?”

“Jaison.” Her voice shook as she spoke. She believed Hades because she’d seen the threads on his skin, one for each life he’d bargained.

“You defend him, but what does it say about him? That he will not even help you when you need him most?”

Because I don’t need him the most right now. Lexa does, she thought.

“That’s not fair, Jaison.”

“Maybe you’re right,” the mortal replied. “Sorry, Seph.”

She didn’t tell him it was okay because it wasn’t. Jaison’s words were unkind, and worse, they burrowed under her skin.

Did Hades’ refusal to help her mean he did not love her as much as she thought?

That’s ridiculous, she scolded herself.

And yet, she wondered, how could he watch her suffer like this?