Heat burns my cheeks as heads turn my way, and I bite my tongue, dropping my eyes to the floor, not wanting to draw any more attention than necessary. After a moment, my presence is all but forgotten, and I lift my gaze to peer about the room once again.
It’s clear that no one seems to know why we’re here, though the unease filling the room is almost sickening in its intensity. A large man pushes past me, nearly sending me tumbling to the floor again as he forces his way through the ever-growing throng of women toward the front of the room.
As I straighten to glare at him, I suddenly recognize him as Deimos. Quickly turning back toward the palace halls, I anxiously search for any sign of Eros … only to watch in dismay as the heavy doors to the throne room are pulled shut, trapping us inside.
The unnerving silence suddenly turns deafening as the atmosphere in the room shifts, and I slowly turn to watch as Hades enters from a door cut into the stone that I hadn’t noticed before.
He moves to stand next to his throne, his eyes trailing languidly over the crowd before him.
My heart skips a beat in my chest as his gaze lands on me, and I’m suddenly terrified that he will recognize me from the night before. After all, I am still wearing the same dress, as unrecognizable as it may be now that it hangs in stained tatters from my body.
A moment passes but then his eyes shift away from me, no sign of recognition within them. I let out a small sigh of relief at this, whispering a silent prayer of thanks to whichever god chose to spare me at this moment.
Though, perhaps it was not the gods, but merely my current state that truly saved me.
“There is a traitor among you,” Hades says, his low voice breaking the silence and sending a chill racing across my skin. His words carry a deadly weight to them as he scans the room, those around me hardly daring to breathe, let alone speak as they wait for him to continue. “A woman who has the audacity to try to refuse my orders. To defy me, your king. Yourgod.”
The room fills with the soft murmur of whispering voices at this. Try as I might, I am unable to ignore the questions and sharp words that drift about the crowded room as Hades moves to sit on his throne.
“A traitor?”
“What did she do?”
“Where is Persephone? Has something happened to her?”
“Who would dare try to defy Hades?”
“If I learn who the whore is, I will cut her down myself for spoiling my day.”
“I bet it was that minx who danced with him at the ball, I saw the way she looked at him.”
“It would be one thing if he went after her, but the other way around?”
“Can you imagine? And in front of the queen, too.”
Their words fill me with a growing sense of dread, reawakening my fear from earlier … that is me whom Hades is searching for. The one who caught his eye and then dared to run away instead of following through with our plan.
Realizing this, I take a small step back in an effort to disappear into the crowd around me.
“Den of vipers,” a woman with long red hair hisses back at them, surprising me, “to turn on one of your own so quickly, when you well know Hades’ own appetites are almost certainly to be blamed.”
“You would all be wise to hold your tongues,” another woman says, suddenly appearing in the midst of them, “lest you too be found guilty of treachery.”
This only seems to have the opposite effect on the crowd though, as the whispers swell to fill the room.
“Silence,” Hades roars, rising from his throne, impatience clear in both his tone and expression despite the distance between us. Immediately the room stills, and I fix my eyes on the floor as his own scan the room again. “If the woman has any sense left in her at all, she will step forward now and declare herself.”
There’s a pause as the others look around nervously at each other, but of course, no one steps forward.
“That was an order!” Hades shouts, startling me into glancing up at him, his lip curling up over his teeth in a snarl.
His eyes flash dangerously, and I realize he’s probably not used to being denied what he wants … and right now, unless I am gravely mistaken, what he wants is me.
Hades’ eyes grow darker, his frustration growing, when again no one steps forward. My hands grow slick with sweat as I take another step back, hoping to hide myself from the king’s gaze.
I don’t know what to do.
Should I risk stepping forward? Would he recognize me if I did?
