The Darkest Promise. Gena Showalter

But even as she spoke, a tidal wave of foreboding overtook her.

      As the goddess of the Afterlife, she sometimes had premonitions about other people’s pain and death. She had one now—about herself! That man...whoever he was, whatever he was, he was part of her future, and he would hurt her worse than anyone ever had.

      * * *

      Siobhan, goddess of Many Futures, watched Cameo through the glass prison that had served as her home for far too long. The magic mirror, some called it. Many had slaughtered entire villages for a chance to gaze upon it.

      And she was considered the evil one? Because she’d caused twelve little wars? Hypocrites!

      Well, the past was the past, and the future awaited. Another war brewed in the immortal realms. The under-realms, to be exact. Hades versus Lucifer. Even Siobhan would have to pick a side.

      Who was she kidding? She’d already picked a side. As a young child, she’d taken one look at the beautiful but reviled Hades, fallen in love, certain he was simply misunderstood and she could save him, and asked him for his hand in marriage. He’d been a big, bad warrior, even then, but he’d said, “Sure thing, kid. We’ll set the date for four thousand years from now.”

      Over the next decade, her love for him had only magnified. He was such a strong, capable male and, if she were being honest, his dark side had thrilled a secret part of her.

      Finally she could wait no longer. As a teenager, she’d returned to him, certain she was old enough to be with him. Just as certain he would accept her.

      Instead, he and his current lover had laughed at her pathetic attempt at seduction. Humiliated and angry, Siobhan had kinda sorta ripped out the woman’s heart.

      Oops. My bad. Accidents happened.

      At Hades’s command, a powerful witch then cursed her to live inside the mirror.

      Siobhan had spent the last four millennia trapped behind the glass, growing from teenager to woman alone, denied the touch of another.

      Only by manipulating those who’d gazed upon her glass had she managed to escape the underworld. But as the centuries passed, she’d dreamed of returning, of ruining Hades’s life.

      Once again she’d had to scheme and manipulate, until she’d finally ended up in the Realm of Grimm and Fantica, a land ruled by a known associate of Hades’s.

      Would the king of the underworld visit? Would he remember her? Perhaps sense her behind the glass?

      She didn’t blame the witch for her predicament; the woman had simply followed her master’s orders. It was Hades who deserved to know the pain of imprisonment and the horror of watching the world live on without him.

      He deserved to switch places with Siobhan.

      Vengeance, she knew, corrupted in the worst of ways. In fact, one of the ends she foresaw for Lazarus and his quest to destroy Hera and Juliette was the destruction of everyone and thing he loved. Only poisonous fruit could grow from a poisonous tree, and in all honesty, there were no greater poisons than bitterness, hatred and sorrow.

      Deprived of contact, comfort or camaraderie, those tainted fruits had grown inside Siobhan, anyway.

      Her motto? Strategize. Lead. Strike.

      I’m ready to strike!

      Problem: she could foresee the paths others could, should and would take, and the ultimate results of their choices...but she couldn’t foresee her own possibilities.

      However, she didn’t require a magical gift to know she needed to gain her freedom. To do so, she had to help other people fall in love. Every time she succeeded, a hundred years was subtracted from her sentence. But every time she tried and failed, a hundred years was added to her sentence.

      You think you understand matters of the heart, Hades had said. Prove it.