It was said Hades liked a good bet, and rarely accepted a wager other than the human soul.

Being the wealthiest of all the gods, he’d earned the title of Rich One, and had invested his money into some of the most popular clubs in New Greece-and these weren't just any clubs. He was more than just the King of the Underworld, after all. Persephone always wondered how Hades felt about that, or if he cared. Their presence at The Coffee House probably meant that the owner was in mourning which was really the only time mortals worshipped the God of the Underworld. They did not often decorate tables, but coffins. The narcissus were the flower and symbol of Hades, the God of the Dead.

The bouquet was sparse-only two or three slender stems-and their petals were crisp, brown, and curling like the fingers of a corpse. It was a perfect day, and though Persephone had come here to study, she was finding it hard to concentrate because her eyes were drawn to a bunch of narcissus flowers that sat in a slender vase on her table. A light breeze carried the scent of spring and the honeyed air was mild. The walkway was lined with shade trees and box gardens teeming with purple aster and pink and white sweet alyssum. She’d chosen her usual spot at The Coffee House, an outdoor table in view of the crowded pedestrian street.

A touch of fate