He sat in his throne after a long day of judgment, the silence heavy around him. The number of souls had seemed to grow exponentially over the past few centuries, or perhaps it had only seemed so as he no longer had Persephone. His wife, his friend, his partner—he had depended on her far more than he’d realized. Even knowing she would never love him the way he loved her, he held on to her memory, treasuring it as one would a lifetime of happiness.

He’d kept his promise to himself, however, and had never gone to see her. It was agonizing, knowing she was so close yet so in love with someone else, and he couldn’t allow himself that kind of pain. The wounds had only begun to heal, and while scars were inevitable, to rip them open again would only ensure they would never close.

Instead he allowed himself to dream about her during what little time he did sleep. He allowed himself to dream about a life they could have had if he had not been so wrong in his actions—if he had done what she wanted, said the right thing, never allowed Demeter to talk him into marriage in the first place. If he had asked Persephone herself what she had wanted all those eons ago, before they’d both done irreparable harm to each other. And during those brief hours, he was happy.

Leaning against his throne, he exhaled, his eyes falling shut. Five hundred years today. That was how long it had been since he’d let her go, and it still felt as agonizing as the day he’d watched her die. Forget scars. At that moment he was convinced it would never get better no matter how much time passed.

The doors of the throne room opened, and with a sigh, he stirred. The next batch of souls weren’t due until morning, and James knew better than to bother him. But even though he hadn’t anticipated anyone in particular, he certainly hadn’t expected the girl standing in the archway at the end of the aisle.

“Hera. Calliope,” he said, correcting himself as he stood. “It is good to see you.”

“And you as well, Hades.” As she approached him, she bowed her head, and he did the same. It had been millennia since the two of them had been alone—since before his marriage to Persephone, and the reminder stabbed at him. “I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”

He shook his head and took her hands, squeezing them in greeting. “No, no. My day is done. I was about to retire.”

“Oh.” Her smile faded slightly. “I was hoping we might talk.”

“Of course.” He offered her his arm, and once she took it, he led her from the throne room. The hallways were lit with everlasting torches, giving the home an eerie feel, but he preferred it. He could’ve easily created a light that didn’t make the shadows dance, but that would’ve only made his loneliness worse.

Once they’d stepped inside a cozy sitting room he never had the chance to use anymore, he glanced around as she did, taking in the room. Funny how a routine could make the once-familiar strange. He summoned tea and poured them both cups, and as he sat beside her on the sofa, he saw her shift closer to him. Perhaps she simply missed him. Or perhaps she sensed how badly he needed some form of comfort.

“This place hasn’t changed much,” she said between sips of tea. “How are you holding up?”

“It has been a long time since anyone asked me that,” he said with a faint smile, though he found no joy in either her concern or his observation. “I have been better, I suppose.”

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.”