it. See that man over there? He sacrificed himself to save fourteen of his comrades during a war.” He pointed to the other men around him who were laughing and slapping his back. “Three of those fourteen are here as well. They did great things with the lives he gave them.”
“Wow.”
“That lady, in the blue, she discovered a cure for a previously incurable disease. Killed herself in the process by breathing in bad chemicals, but she considered that worth it.”
Persephone pointed to a couple sitting on a blanket. Two small children ran around them, kicking a ball, as the man and woman nuzzled each other and whispered. “What did they do?”
He cocked his head and studied them. “Ah. They fell in love, married, and had two children.”
“So you can get here even if you do nothing amazing with your life?”
“The majority of souls did nothing amazing to get here. They simply lived. Some of them slipped up now and then, but on the whole, they were good people.”
“Slips don’t get held against a soul?”
“I’m not the one who sorts the souls, but it doesn’t seem that way. To err is human, after all. Like that guy? Cheated on his taxes a couple of times. You have to admire anyone who sticks it to the man. You know some mortals consider the tax collector scarier than Thanatos? It’s damn insulting.”
She reached up on her tiptoes and bussed his cheek. “Poor Hades.”
He resisted the urge to place his hand against her kiss like a lovelorn calf. But when she looked away again, he stroked his fingers over his skin, savoring that casual sign of affection. “If you ever saw Death moping, you would pity me too.”
She snorted. One of the children kicked the ball too hard and it came close to Hades. As the boy ran over, Hades gave the ball a gentle push with his foot. The child picked it up, looked through the two of them, and ran back to his family when his mother called to him. “Can they not see us?”
“No.” He took a hold of her arm and led her farther down the path. “I carry my helm when I come here.” He held his palm up, and a miniature black helm, about the size of a pebble, swirled in his hand. “It keeps me invisible. I cloaked you as well. I frighten them too much.”
“Oh.” She didn’t say any more, but he could see the wheels in her awesome brain turning. “Does that…make you sad?”
Only in the beginning. He gave her a derisive look as he tucked the helm into his pocket. “Yes. It has me crying in my porridge that the itty-bitty souls are scared of me.”
She rolled her eyes but thankfully shifted her attention to the beautiful scenery. The two of them took a turn about the park, just another couple strolling arm in arm. He wondered at the picture they would make if anyone could see him. She fit in here, small and lovely and modestly dressed. He, big and tattooed and scowling, did not. When they came back to where they’d started, he reluctantly released her. “I actually do have to check on the other parts of the realm and speak with some of my servants. I’ll drop you back off in the palace—”
“But I want to come.”
“Sephie, trust me, this is pretty much the only nice place in the kingdom.”
Her mouth set in that mulish line he recognized from when she badly wanted to get some task right and couldn’t quite manage it. “I want to come.”
“Persephone…”
“Hades.” She raised that stubborn little chin and gave him one of her regal looks. How the hell did she manage to look down her nose at him when he was a full head taller than her? “Cloak my presence if you want, but I’m not going back to the palace. I want to come with you.”
“But—”
“Unless…” She frowned. “Unless it’s because you don’t want another god to see your kingdom?”
“Not exactly,” he hedged, and then threw his hands up in the air at her hurt expression. When had he become someone who cared about someone else’s feelings? “Fine,” he snapped.
“Wow.”
“That lady, in the blue, she discovered a cure for a previously incurable disease. Killed herself in the process by breathing in bad chemicals, but she considered that worth it.”
Persephone pointed to a couple sitting on a blanket. Two small children ran around them, kicking a ball, as the man and woman nuzzled each other and whispered. “What did they do?”
He cocked his head and studied them. “Ah. They fell in love, married, and had two children.”
“So you can get here even if you do nothing amazing with your life?”
“The majority of souls did nothing amazing to get here. They simply lived. Some of them slipped up now and then, but on the whole, they were good people.”
“Slips don’t get held against a soul?”
“I’m not the one who sorts the souls, but it doesn’t seem that way. To err is human, after all. Like that guy? Cheated on his taxes a couple of times. You have to admire anyone who sticks it to the man. You know some mortals consider the tax collector scarier than Thanatos? It’s damn insulting.”
She reached up on her tiptoes and bussed his cheek. “Poor Hades.”
He resisted the urge to place his hand against her kiss like a lovelorn calf. But when she looked away again, he stroked his fingers over his skin, savoring that casual sign of affection. “If you ever saw Death moping, you would pity me too.”
She snorted. One of the children kicked the ball too hard and it came close to Hades. As the boy ran over, Hades gave the ball a gentle push with his foot. The child picked it up, looked through the two of them, and ran back to his family when his mother called to him. “Can they not see us?”
“No.” He took a hold of her arm and led her farther down the path. “I carry my helm when I come here.” He held his palm up, and a miniature black helm, about the size of a pebble, swirled in his hand. “It keeps me invisible. I cloaked you as well. I frighten them too much.”
“Oh.” She didn’t say any more, but he could see the wheels in her awesome brain turning. “Does that…make you sad?”
Only in the beginning. He gave her a derisive look as he tucked the helm into his pocket. “Yes. It has me crying in my porridge that the itty-bitty souls are scared of me.”
She rolled her eyes but thankfully shifted her attention to the beautiful scenery. The two of them took a turn about the park, just another couple strolling arm in arm. He wondered at the picture they would make if anyone could see him. She fit in here, small and lovely and modestly dressed. He, big and tattooed and scowling, did not. When they came back to where they’d started, he reluctantly released her. “I actually do have to check on the other parts of the realm and speak with some of my servants. I’ll drop you back off in the palace—”
“But I want to come.”
“Sephie, trust me, this is pretty much the only nice place in the kingdom.”
Her mouth set in that mulish line he recognized from when she badly wanted to get some task right and couldn’t quite manage it. “I want to come.”
“Persephone…”
“Hades.” She raised that stubborn little chin and gave him one of her regal looks. How the hell did she manage to look down her nose at him when he was a full head taller than her? “Cloak my presence if you want, but I’m not going back to the palace. I want to come with you.”
“But—”
“Unless…” She frowned. “Unless it’s because you don’t want another god to see your kingdom?”
“Not exactly,” he hedged, and then threw his hands up in the air at her hurt expression. When had he become someone who cared about someone else’s feelings? “Fine,” he snapped.
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