“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?”

A grave suspicion filled him. “What are you saying?” he said, trying to see past her determination to whatever lay beneath. “Are you implying someone manipulated Persephone—”

“What? No, no, of course not,” she said quickly. “I only mean—what if you were incompatible? What if you fell in love with someone who simply wasn’t right for you? That’s all I mean.”

He watched her for a long moment, searching for a lie he knew was there. But because he loved her, because he wanted to see the best in her when no one else would, because the thought of her betrayal was too much to bear, he believed her. His shoulders sagged, and he slipped his hand from hers. “Regardless of the reasons, the past is the past, and there is nothing I can do to change it. I am sorry for your lot in life, Calliope. I hope someday you discover a way to leave it behind and find the life you deserve, but I cannot love you the way you want me to, and I cannot hurt you more than I already have. You will always have an ally and a friend in me. But that is all we will ever be.”

There it was—the pain he knew he would eventually cause her no matter his answer. It burned like fire in her eyes, and she stood with the pride and grace of a queen. She was remarkable, worthy of so much more than either him or his brother, and perhaps one day she would find it. But today would not be that day.