Calliope’s expression darkened. “Yes, you probably have.” She set her hand over his. “Is there anything I can do?”
He shook his head. “Powerful and enchanting as you are, I’m afraid there isn’t anything anyone can do.”
She blushed and lowered her head for a moment. Bashfulness didn’t look right on her. “You’re too kind.”
“Hardly. It is not my fault that Zeus—er, Walter does not appreciate what he has.”
Her lips twitched in annoyance, and perhaps something deeper. “No, he does not. Have you not chosen a new name?”
“I’m afraid I haven’t found the time. Or discovered much of a selection.”
She scoffed. “You see countless people pass through here. Surely one of them has a name you like.”
“Their names are their own. I could not possibly steal it, as Diana took Ella’s.”
Calliope grinned. “I think she did it solely to get a rise out of her, after those comments Ella made about her and Walter.”
“And you do not agree with Ella?” said Hades. “I would have thought…”
“I know what Walter does,” she said with a shrug. “There’s little point in fighting it now.”
After eons of hearing secondhand stories of Calliope’s jealousy—and occasionally witnessing it himself—that was certainly an unexpected surprise, and Hades was quiet as he absorbed her change of heart. “Have you found someone, then?”
A strange look passed over her face, and she held her chin a fraction of an inch higher than usual. “And if I said I had?”
“I would be pleased,” he said, despite the bitterness that sawed away inside him. Even Calliope was finding love, yet he would remain eternally encased in loneliness until the end of time. And perhaps even then he would not be granted relief. “May I ask who this lucky man is?”
A pause. It wasn’t like Hera—Calliope to be anything but direct unless she wanted something. But what could she possibly want from him? Was her new lover mortal? Did she want Hades to spare him until she was done? “You may,” she said slowly, her hand shifting toward his. “If you believe you are prepared to hear the answer.”
“And why would I not—”
Her fingers brushed his, and he stopped. Calliope held his stare, her blue eyes earnest and scheming all at once, and she leaned in toward him. “You know why,” she said softly. “You’ve always known.”
Hades grew completely still, not even allowing his heart to beat. Perhaps then time wouldn’t pass, and he would never have to face the inevitable consequences of this moment.
Hera. Calliope. His sister loved him. Longed for him. Coveted his company. He could feel it now, those tendrils of emotions as old as the council’s reign snaking toward him. How had he missed it before? Was she really so skilled as to keep even her strongest feelings so closely guarded?
It didn’t matter how she had kept it a secret. What mattered was the way she watched him, waiting for his answer with hope in her eyes and a smile dancing on her lips. It’d been so long since he’d seen her like this—as though she finally saw something good in the world that she wanted.
And it terrified him.
Even if he could entertain the notion of being with her, even if he could move past his suffocating love for Persephone, his brother would never forgive him. Such a slight on Zeus—on Walter would seem like an act of war, and he would fight until the end of the world to win back his possession.
But that was all Calliope was to Walter—a possession. A trophy. A pet on a leash he’d thought he’d tamed, but here she was, out of her cage and desperate for her freedom. And Hades couldn’t give it to her.
He wanted to. Not because he loved her the way she so clearly loved him, and certainly not because he wished to start a war. But because no one deserved the kind of life Calliope had lived. No one deserved to lose herself the way she had, buried underneath her husband’s pride, lost in the eternity of his wrath. After having kept Persephone for so long without allowing her the freedom she had craved, the notion of giving Calliope the very thing he hadn’t given her was intoxicating. Redemption, in his own small way. A chance to prove to himself—and to Persephone—that he was not a monster, even if he knew it would be a lie.
That was not enough, though. It was not enough to give Calliope false hope that someday he might love her; it was not enough to string her along the way Zeus had. It was not enough to start a war the council could never finish. It was not enough to risk humanity and break every rule he’d made for himself since Persephone’s death.
It was not enough to risk his own heart, selfish as it was. And it was not enough to give himself one more chance at happiness. Calliope may have deserved it, but he did not, and he could not see past that no matter how hard he tried.
“I am flattered,” he said quietly, unable to look her in the eye any longer. She would instantly know what these words meant, but he could not find it in himself to give her even the slightest amount of hope. It would only be another cruelty. “But you are my brother’s wife, and there are certain boundaries I cannot cross.”
Rather than stand in indignation or hurt, Calliope tightened her fingers around his. “Please,” she whispered, sounding more like a young girl than she had in a long time. “I’ll explain it to Walter—I’ll make sure he knows it wasn’t your idea. I just—I can’t live there anymore. I love you. I’ve loved you for longer than I’ve ever loved anyone, and all I’m asking for is a chance.”
“That is a chance I cannot give you,” he said, focusing on their intertwined hands. A world of what-ifs in a single gesture. “I am sorrier than words can describe, but you deserve better than a life in my world. With me. I could not love you, not the way you love me, and I would rather fade than see this place choke the life out of you as it did Persephone—”
“Persephone?” She choked on the name. “Is that why you’re doing this? Because of her? Because she didn’t love you?”
“Partially,” he allowed, and she touched his chin, forcing him to look at her. He would’ve expected tears by now from the waves of frustration rolling off her, but her eyes were dry.
“What if—what if she was never meant to love you?” Her tone took on a strange quality, as if she were pushing him toward something he couldn’t see. “What if it wasn’t your fault or hers?”