“You cannot tell me you wouldn’t break every Divine Law in existence for me.”

Persephone had noted the depth of Hades’ eyes before—as if there were thousands of lifetimes reflected within them, but it was nothing like what she saw now. There was a flash of malice—a moment where she swore she could see every violent thing he’d ever done. She didn’t doubt what he would go through to save her.

“Make no mistake, my lady, I would burn this world for you, but that is a burden I am willing to carry. Can you say the same?”

Something changed within Hades after her question and just as suddenly as he seemed to open all his wounds, they closed. His eyes dulled and his expression became passive.

“I will give you one more day to say goodbye to Lexa,” he said. “That is the only compromise I can offer. You should be thankful I’m offering that.”

The god vanished.

Alone in the throne room, Persephone expected to feel overwhelmed by the reality that within the next twenty-four hours, Lexa would be dead.

Instead, she felt a strange sense of determination.

Consequences for gods? She thought. There are none.

She rose to her feet and teleported to her apartment. Sybil reclined on the couch, her eyes going wide when Persephone appeared, bloodied and bruised from her magic.

The oracle sat up.

“Persephone, are you—”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly. “I need your help. Where does Apollo hang out on Thursday nights?”

CHAPTER XVII - THE PLEASURE DISTRICT

CHAPTER XVII - THE PLEASURE DISTRICT

Persephone navigated the narrow cobble streets of the Pleasure District, passing white-washed shops and brothels with names like Hetaera, Pornai, and Kapsoura. The passages were filled to bursting with people. There were those who had come to enjoy the pleasures of the district, obvious because of the masks they wore to hide their identity. Then there were those who were here to give the pleasure—women in lace and topless men. They danced through the crowds, teasing potential customers with feather boas and chocolate. Their skin glistened from oils that smelled like jasmine and vanilla. Lights crisscrossed overhead, giving the entire place a strange, red glow.

Turns out, this was where Apollo spent Thursday evenings.

“He’ll be at Erotas,” Sybil had said. “He owns a suite there on the third floor.”

The Goddess of Spring reached up to check the mask Sybil had let her borrow, paranoid that somehow it would come loose and expose her identity. It was heavy and solid black. She only needed to wear it until she made it to Erotas, once inside, every visitor was promised anonymity.

She recognized she had a choice, but it was one she wasn’t willing to make. Her mother had been right. Why not ask Apollo to heal her friend? It was a bargain she was willing to make, and so she headed in the direction of Erotas.