Then she glances sideways, indicating Zeles. She wants him to leave.
“Oh… Well… I guess it wouldn’t hurt…”
“Excellent!” She claps her hands joyfully.
Zeles, whose unemotional face is as close to horrified and simultaneously fascinated as I think he gets, clears his throat. “I’ll give you some…privacy.”
He’s through the door like a gunshot, and Aphrodite laughs, her face transforming to genuine humor and not something designed to elicit a specific response. In my opinion, she’s much more beautiful this way. Real.
Sobering, she lets her gaze skate over me.
“Why did you come?” I ask.
“Demeter.”
My eyes widen. That’s the last thing I was expecting, mostly because Zai and I are the only two people who know I reached out to that goddess, through him, asking her to come talk to me. But understanding comes quickly enough, and I grimace. “She won’t come?”
Aphrodite pauses, then shakes her head. “She said no pet of Hades was worthy of her time.”
Stubborn, prideful, arrogant deities. I’m surprised any of them have noses left after cutting them off so often to spite their faces.
“Why did you wish to see her?” Aphrodite asks.
I study her face like she did mine a second ago. Strangely, of all the gods and goddesses, I think I trust her the most. Possibly even more than Hades, with all his secrets and lies. Maybe it’s because she’s let me see the side of her that is real. I’m honestly not sure.
Sharing this secret with her, though…
I take a deep breath. Then another. Please let this be the right decision. “Persephone didn’t die.”
There. I said it. Too late to take it back now. The only way is forward.
The goddess of love and passion’s eyes go wide. “That’s not possible,” she whispers through tight lips.
My heart beats harder at her reaction alone. Did I fuck up by telling her? “You’d better sit down.”
Once we’re both in chairs facing each other through the glass, I tell her the little I know. “Is it possible for the King of the Gods to release prisoners from Tartarus?” I ask.
A little frown has formed between her perfect brows. “No,” she says slowly. “The only way to open Tartarus requires all seven of the gods and goddesses who trapped the Titans in there. Even for Persephone, I don’t think we could convince all seven to risk trying it.” The frown deepens. “How did she get in?” she asks, more to herself than me. “And why?”
Then she lifts her gaze to mine, speculation replacing confusion. “You were going to tell Demeter?”
I nod. “Diego is her champion. The Crucible is his as long as he lives through this Labor. Maybe she could figure out how to use that power to get her daughter back. You said it yourself—Hades always has a plan.”
Hades should have told Persephone’s mother before now, but it’s so like him to play his cards close and to try to fix this on his own.
“I was going to trade this information for a promise to make Boone a god,” I say.
She gives a seductive hum. “I knew I liked you for a reason.” Then her expression becomes serious. “Why now? Why go to all this trouble rather than tell her after the challenge yourself?”
“Because I may not survive,” I say. “And she deserves to know.”
She nods, lips thin. “But I still don’t know what Hades is thinking,” she says. “Opening Tartarus is dangerous and not possible. Not without all of us.”
Aphrodite turns her face away from me, gaze seeming to search the stark white wall opposite. Then she takes her own deep breath, a small sign that tells me how shaken the goddess is. “If Jackie was closer to winning, I would offer to save Boone for you.”
I sit back slightly. My proposal to the other champions really has made the rounds.
“But not Persephone.” Aphrodite returns her gaze to mine. “I won’t tell Demeter this secret.”
Shock reverberates through me, straightening my spine and slashing my brows in a confused frown. “What? Why not?”
“It could start another war between us, and after the last one…” Her eyes darken with pain. “I can’t risk that.”
A war?
Sadness lingers in her expression. “Demeter almost burned down Olympus the day Hades told her Persephone died. He was smart to tell her that lie. Kind, too. If she knew her daughter was alive and where she is—” She shrugs. Then a frown slowly tugs at her features. “I’m guessing Hades doesn’t want anyone else to know?”
I say nothing.
Aphrodite lets out a low whistle. “And yet you’d trust me with this?” She stares, her expression inscrutable, then softly says, “I’m honored. Truly.”
I offer her a crooked smile. “I think you’re one of the good ones.”
Which makes her chuckle. “We’re all equally good…and bad. Just like mortals.”
“Some of you are worse than others,” I mutter darkly.
Aphrodite rolls her eyes. “Athena is…who she is. Zeus, too. All of us, really. We are what we were born to be. Better than the violent Titans but far from perfect.”
