By the time Evangeline reached Hades's bedchamber, she sensed the odd shift in the air immediately.
The air inside the room felt strained, dense with something close to a spark of anger, as though an invisible storm had just passed through and left its residue clinging to the walls. It was not anger, at least not the kind that seemed to shout loudly, but something colder, like a friction that would suddenly explode into a burst of fire.
She leaned her head in first, cautious, peering past the doorframe.
Hades sat upon the edge of his bed, his long legs crossed with a relaxed attitude, posture slack to the point of seeming indifferent. His expression was composed, betraying no obvious trace of displeasure. Yet the distance between him and Cerdery, who stood at the far corner of the room, arms folded tightly against her chest, was unmistakable.
They were not speaking. They were not even acknowledging one another.
