LOVE THE WAY YOU LIE . . . pjo

XIII.

THE THRONE ROOM was beautiful, but the only thing that Mia had eyes for was the god sitting on the throne. He was the first god who struck her as godlike.

He was at least ten feet tall, for one thing, and dressed in black silk robes and a crown of braided gold. His skin was albino white, his hair shoulder-length and jet black. He wasn't bulked up like Ares, but he radiated power. He lounged on his throne of fused human bones, looking lithe, graceful, and dangerous as a panther.

Mia immediately felt like he should be giving the orders. He knew more than she did. He should be her master. Then she shook herself out of that trance.

Hades's aura was affecting her. The Lord of the Dead had intense eyes and a mesmerizing, evil charisma.

The eyes and Mia's impression of him made her think of her father. It probably was a horrible analogy, but she'd only seen those eyes on one other person.

"You are brave to come here, Son of Poseidon," Hades said in an oily voice. "After what you have done to me, very brave indeed. Or perhaps you are simply very foolish."

Percy stepped forward. "Lord and Uncle, I come with two requests."

Hades raised an eyebrow. When he sat forward in his throne, shadowy faces appeared in the folds of his black robes, faces of torment, as if the garment were stitched of trapped souls from the Fields of Punishment, trying to get out.

"Only two requests?" he said. "Arrogant child. As if you have not already taken enough. Speak, then. It amuses me not to strike you dead yet."

Mia stared at the empty, smaller throne next to Hades's. It was shaped like a black flower, gilded with gold. She wished Queen Persephone were here. Mia recalled something in the myths about how Persephone could calm her husband's moods. But it was summer. Of course, she would be above in the world of light with her mother, and probably Mia's, the goddess of agriculture, Demeter. Her visits, not the tilt of the planet, create the seasons.

But the throne . . . something about it lured Mia to it. Maybe it was the flowers, maybe it was the gold. She loved gold, and she would love to sit on a throne. But something else about it . . .

Annabeth cleared her throat, drawing Mia out of her reverie.

"Lord Hades," Percy said. "Look, sir, there can't be a war among the gods. It would be . . . bad."

"Really bad," Grover added helpfully.

"Return Zeus's master bolt to me," Percy said. "Please, sir. Let me carry it to Olympus."

Hades's eyes grew dangerously bright. "You dare keep up this pretense, after what you have done?"

Percy glanced back at Mia, Annabeth, and Grover. Mia was confused. Annabeth, Grover, and Percy looked like how she felt.

"Um . . . Uncle," Percy said. "You keep saying 'after what you've done.' What exactly have I done?"

The throne room shook with a tremor so strong, they probably felt it upstairs in Los Angeles. Debris fell from the cavern ceiling. Doors burst open all along the walls, and skeletal warriors marched in, hundreds of them, from every time period and nation in Western civilization. They lined the perimeter of the room, blocking the exits.

Hades bellowed, "do you think I want war, godling?"

"You are the Lord of the Dead," Percy said carefully. "A war would expand your kingdom, right?"

"A typical thing for my brothers to say! Do you think I need more subjects? Did you not see the sprawl of the Asphodel Fields?"

"Well . . ."