Persephone woke up alone.
She ignored the way her chest tightened as she rose to get ready. Once she was dressed, she found Hecate in the palace ballroom, instructing souls, nymphs, and daimons in their tasks as they prepared for the solstice celebration tonight.
When Persephone arrived, Hecate smiled, and several voices erupted all at once.
“My Lady, you’ve arrived!”
There was so much excitement and energy in the room, Persephone couldn’t stay sullen.
“I hope you haven’t waited long,” she said.
“I was just finishing assigning tasks,” Hecate said.
“Great. What can I do?”
Persephone saw the hesitation on Hecate’s face.
“Of course, you should supervise.”
Persephone frowned. “I’d like to help,” she said, and looked at the people gathered in the room. “Surely some of you could use an extra set of hands?”
At first, she was met with silence, and then Yuri spoke up. “Of course, my lady. We’d be happy to have your assistance with the flower arrangements!”
Persephone grinned. “Thank you, Yuri. I would like that very much.”
Not to mention she needed a distraction—anything to keep her mind off the last few weeks.
“Let’s get to work!” Hecate called, and the crowd dispersed.
Persephone worked with a group in the ballroom making floral arrangements, garlands, and floral crowns from flowers the souls had picked from the gardens of the Underworld.
“You are quieter than usual,” Hecate said, coming to work beside Persephone. She trimmed leaves from stems while Persephone arranged them in a large urn.
“Am I?”
She’d been so engrossed in her work, she hadn’t paid much attention to what was going on around her.
“Not just today,” she said. “You haven’t been to the Underworld for days.”
Persephone froze for a moment, and then continued with her project. She didn’t know what to say—was she supposed to apologize? Her eyes blurred with tears, and before she knew it Hecate was leading her out of the ballroom, down the hall, and into Hades’ library.
“What’s wrong, my dear?” Hecate asked, guiding Persephone to sit and kneeling before her.
“I messed up terribly.”
“I’m sure it is nothing that can’t be fixed.”
“I’m sure it cannot,” Persephone said. “I have made so many mistakes, Hecate. I have destroyed my best friend’s life, bargained with a terrible god, and sacrificed my relationship with Hades.”
“That is a lot.” Hecate’s words made Persephone feel even more miserable. “But I think it is not true.”
“Of course, it’s true,” she stared at Hecate, confused by the goddess.
“Did you strike Lexa with a car?” Hecate asked.
Persephone shook her head.
“You did not ruin your best friend’s life,” she said. “The mortal driving that car did.”
“But she’s not the same—”
“She’s not the same. Even if she had recovered on her own without Apollo’s magic, she wouldn’t have been the same. You have bargained with a god, yes—terrible?” Hecate shrugged. “If anyone can help Apollo become more compassionate, it’s you, Persephone.”
She wasn’t sure about that, but after learning about Apollo’s past, she knew she wanted to do something for him. Maybe if she showed him kindness, he would learn kindness toward others.
“Compassion or not, it doesn’t change how Hades thinks of me now. He does not trust me, nor does he think I trust him.”
“Hades trusts you,” she said. “He gave you his heart.”
“I am sure he regrets that decision.”
“You cannot be sure of anything unless you ask, Persephone. It is more unfair to assume you know Hades’ feelings.”
Persephone considered this. She’d wanted to ask him a lot of things yesterday, but fear and embarrassment kept her from it.
“And I have a feeling our dark ruler hasn’t been all that fair to you.”
Persephone wasn’t sure if fair was the right word.
“He has been honest about how angry he is with me.”
“Which is probably why you want to avoid him. I would. No one likes Hades when he’s angry.”
Persephone laughed a little.
“My point is you both have a lot to learn from this. If you want this relationship to work, you must be honest. It doesn’t matter if your words sting, they’re important.”
She had a lot of words.
“Do not worry, my dear,” Hecate rose to her feet, brining Persephone with her. “All will be well.”
Before they left the library, Persephone paused. “Hecate, do you know how to find a soul in the Underworld?”
She smiled. “No, but I know who does.”
Persephone and Hecate returned to the ballroom and finished up their floral arrangements. After, they made their way to the kitchens where Milan, a daimon, and a staff of several souls who had been chefs in previous lives, worked on the solstice feast. Milan insisted they try an assortment of jams, preserves, grapes, figs, pomegranates, black berries, pears, and dates. There were cured meats and various cheeses, crackers and fresh herbs.
“My Lady Persephone…do you happen to have the recipe for that sweet bread you made?” Milan asked.
It took her a moment to understand what Milan was talking about. “Oh, you mean the cake!”
“Whatever it was, it was delicious,” Hecate said. “And almost started a war.”
Persephone laughed. She’d baked the cake, left it to cool overnight, and had completely forgotten about it.
“It’s very easy, Milan. I’ll teach you.”
The daimon grinned and Persephone spent the rest of the afternoon baking in the kitchen until Hecate pulled her away to get ready for the festivities.
They hung out in Hades’ bedchamber. Hecate’s nymphs, lampades, worked Persephone’s hair into smooth curls, then braided pieces, sculpting part of it into a half-up style. Her makeup was darker than usual. A shimmering black shadow and thick liner made her eyes appear wider and more open; the color also brightened her irises. A burgundy lip completed the look.
As she watched herself transform in the mirror, she was reminded of the evenings she and Lexa would spend getting ready for events. Persephone hadn’t grown up around mortals, so when she’d come to New Athens University, she had no experience with makeup or fashion. Lexa had shown her the ropes, and she’d been amazing at it.
Is amazing at it, Persephone corrected herself.
Lexa was alive.
Except that Persephone almost felt as though Lexa might as well be gone. The person sitting in that hospital room looked like her best friend but didn’t act like her.
Persephone’s eyes watered, and she took a breath, looking toward the ceiling. The lampades sensed her distress and patted her face and hair.
“I’m alright,” she whispered. “Just thinking about something sad.”
“Perhaps this will take your mind off it,” Hecate said, entering Hades’ chamber.
Persephone turned in her seat as the Goddess of Witchcraft approached with a long, white box. Inside was a beautiful gown. It was black with gold accents. The sleeves were off the shoulder, long, but split, giving the illusion of a cape.
“Oh, Hecate. It’s beautiful,” Persephone said, twisting in front of the mirror after she’d put it on.
The dress wasn’t the only surprise Hecate had for her. She stood behind Persephone and moved as if she were placing something on her head. As she did, a crown appeared between her hands. It was iron and jagged, and it gleamed with shining obsidian, black pearls, and diamonds. Upon her head, it resembled a dark halo, ignited against her bright hair.
“You look beautiful,” Hecate said.
“Thank you,” Persephone breathed.
She didn’t recognize herself in the mirror and she wasn’t sure what was different—the crown, the dress, the makeup or something else? A lot of things had happened in the last month, and she felt the weight of it on her shoulders, on her chest, settling at the bottom of her stomach.
“Has Hades arrived?”
“I am sure he will come later,” Hecate said.
Persephone met her friend’s gaze in the mirror. She wanted Hades. They didn’t even need to talk; she just wanted his presence for comfort.
“Come, the souls have a surprise for you.”
Hecate reached for Persephone’s hand and they left Hades’ chamber. The lampades followed, zipping away to take their place outside.
The palace was decorated throughout. The bouquets of flowers Persephone and the others had worked on brought life to the shadow. Banquet tables were crowded with food and candlelight. The smells were mouthwatering. The French doors in the ballroom were open and led to the courtyard where a fire blazed and the souls had erected a maypole.
As Persephone stepped outside, the souls and daimons and nymphs cheered.
Yuri ran forward, taking Persephone’s hands.
“Persephone! Come, the children have a surprise for you!”
Yuri led her away from the stone courtyard to the springy grass where the lampades had gathered in a circle. Souls followed behind them.
She was surprised when Yuri directed her to a throne that sat at the top of the circle. Unlike Hades, it was a chair made of gold. The metal had been shaped into flowers and the cushions were white.
“Yuri, I am not—”
“You might not be queen by title, but the souls call you their queen.”
“That does not mean I should wear a crown or sit upon a throne in the Underworld.”
“Do this for them, Persephone,” Yuri pleaded. “It is part of the surprise.”
“Okay,” Persephone said, nodding. “For the souls.”
She took a seat and Yuri clapped her excitement.
After a moment, children from the Underworld appeared from the darkness, wandering into the circle of light, dressed in colorful clothing. They began their performance by stomp their feet and clap their hands in unison. The effect was musical, increasing in tempo the longer they went. Soon, their voices joined the clapping and stomping, and they began to move about, creating different lines and shapes with their bodies. By the end of the performance, Persephone was clapping along and smiling so wide, her face hurt. The children grinned, bowing to the applause.
Then a flute began to play, and the children started to sing, their voices rising and falling in a haunting melody. The song they sang was the tale of the Lethe, the river of forgetfulness, and told of a woman who drank from its waters and forgot the love of her life. When the song ended, a hard knot settled at the back of Persephone’s throat. She stood as she clapped, and the children ran to her, hugging her legs.
“Thank you,” she told them. “You were all so wonderful!”
After the children’s performance, the real festival began, and the residents dispersed. Some danced and played instruments while others played games—races, disc tosses, and jumping competitions. A group headed inside the ballroom to eat and the children gathered around the maypole.
“Persephone!” Leuce approached, throwing her arms around the goddess’s neck, a glass of wine in hand.
“Leuce, I’m so glad you could make it.”
The nymph drew back. “Thank you for inviting me. This is truly amazing. I’ve never seen the Underworld so vibrant.”
“Drink,” she said, handing Persephone the wine she held. “The wine tastes like strawberries and summer.”
Leuce twirled away, disappearing into the crowd of souls.
“Well, don’t you look like the Queen of the Underworld,” Hermes said, appearing out of thin air.
Persephone smiled at the God of Trickery. He was dressed like an ancient god—gold armor and a leather skirt. His sandals wrapped around his strong calves, a circlet of laurel leaves crowed his head, and his white-feathered wings draped his body like a lush cloak.
“Hermes!” She threw her arms around him. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Sephy,” he said, and then winked, holding up a bottle of wine he’d swiped from the ballroom. “The wine helps. Where’s your brooding lover? He wasn’t too angry with you, I hope?”
At the mention of Hades, Persephone was reminded that the God of the Underworld still hadn’t made an appearance. She frowned.
“I’m not sure where he is. He left before I woke.”
“Uh oh. Don’t tell me, Sephy. No makeup sex?”
When did talking about sex become a regular conversation between her and Hermes?
“No.”
“I’m sorry, Sephy,” Hermes said, and then poured more wine into her cup. “Drink up, gorgeous. You’re going to need it.”
But Persephone didn’t feel like drinking, and soon, Hermes was distracted.
“Nemesis!” Hermes yelled when he glimpsed the Goddess of Divine Retribution and Revenge. “I have a bone to pick with you!”
Persephone tried not to laugh. Hearing Hermes use mortal idioms was hilarious. She started to turn when she noticed Apollo. He must have just arrived, as she was certain she would have sensed his menacing presence before now. He felt like static in the air around her.
He wore red robes and they were secured by embellished gold leaves. She’d never seen his horns before, but tonight, they were on full display. In total, he had four, a set of two, curling on each side of his face. They almost made it look like a helm worn during battle.
She smiled at him and approached.
“Last time I checked, I was the one who was supposed to do the summoning,” he said.
“I didn’t summon you,” Persephone said. “I invited you. You didn’t have to come.”
Apollo’s jaw tensed.
“But I’m glad you did,” she added, and the god’s brows rose. “Come, I’d like you to meet someone.”
She led Apollo outside where the maypole was raised, and the dead danced. It took her a moment, but she finally found him standing with a crowd of souls. Hyacinth, the young man Apollo loved. He was well-muscled and beautiful, with a swath of golden hair. When he smiled, his teeth gleamed, when he laughed, it was like music. She knew when Apollo saw him, because Apollo stiffened beside her.
“Go to him, Apollo,” she said.
He hesitated and paled. “Does he remember…?”
“He still loves you,” she said. “And he has forgiven you.”
She was surprised when Apollo looked at her with a severe expression on his face.
“Why?” he demanded.
She blinked. “What?”
“Why would you do this for me?” he asked. “I have been so unkind to you.”
“Everyone deserves kindness, Apollo.”
Especially those who hurt others, she thought but didn’t say.
“Go,” she encouraged. “You don’t have much time and you must make the most of it.”
Still he stared at her, as if he couldn’t figure her out.
After a moment, he turned and took a deep breath, set his shoulders, and strolled toward Hyacinth. The young soul did a double take and his expression melted into shock when he spotted the God of Music approaching. He put his drink down and threw his arms around Apollo’s neck, drawing him close. When their lips met, Persephone felt a pang in her chest—a reminder of how much she missed Hades.
She shook her head and wandered from the courtyard into the gardens. She hoped to spend a few minutes alone but stumbled upon a shadowy figure, startling her.
“Thanatos,” she breathed, her heart calming. “You startled me.”
“I am sorry. That was not my intention.”
She frowned. She hadn’t seen the God of Death since she’d yelled at him in the hospital. She could feel a difference in the air between them. Once friendly, it was now tender.
“What are you doing out here?”
“Enjoying the revelry,” he answered. He wasn’t looking at her as he spoke, his eyes on the maypole ahead, illuminated by the nymphs’ light.
“Why don’t you join them?” she asked.
Thanatos’ smile was sad. “I am not made for merriment, my lady.”
She frowned. “Please call me Persephone, Thanatos.”
He bowed his head. “Right. I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry,” she said. “There is no excuse for how I treated you. I can…scarcely believe it myself.”
“It’s okay, Persephone. I’m used to it.”
She winced. “It pains me to know that. I wish it weren’t so—you deserve better, especially from a friend.”
Thanatos met her gaze, smiling. “Thank you, Persephone.”
They stood together for a while, watching the residents of the Underworld celebrate.
At some point, Persephone reentered the palace. She roamed from room to room looking for Hades. The more time that passed without his presence, the more frustrated she became. How could he not come to a celebration in his own realm? Not only was it important to his people, it was important to her. She’d helped plan it and he knew it was happening tonight. What was keeping him?
The party neared its end with no sign of Hades. Unable to rest, she waited up for him.
And waited.
And waited.
It was close to five in the morning before he returned. His presence was familiar and unlike previous times when he had inspired need within her, she felt cold.
When Hades entered the room, she turned to face him. His dark gaze assessed her from head to toe. She hadn’t removed the crown Ian had made for her, or the dress Hecate had crafted. Hades did not comment on her ensemble, instead he said, “I did not think you would be awake.”
“Where were you?”
“I had a few things to take care of.”
Persephone’s fingers fisted. “Were these things more important than your realm?”
Hades brows lowered. “You are angry that I was not at your party.”
So he hadn’t forgotten.
“Yes, I am angry. You should have been there.”
“The dead celebrate everything, Persephone. I won’t miss the next one.”
“If that is your view, I’d rather you not come at all.”
Hades seemed surprised by her comment. “Then what do you want from me?”
“I don’t fucking care how much they celebrate. What’s important to them should be important to you. What’s important to me should be important to you.”
“Persephone…”
“Don’t,” she cut him off. “I understand you don’t know what I don’t tell you, but I expect you to be aware of what I am planning and show interest—not only for me, but for your people. You never once asked about the solstice celebration, not even after I asked you for permission to host it in the courtyard.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You aren’t,” she snapped. “You are only saying that to appease me and I hate it. Is this why you want a queen? So you don’t have to attend these events?”
“No, I wanted you,” he said. “And because of that, I wished to make you my queen. There are no ulterior motives.”
But she hadn’t missed that everything he’d just said was in the past.
She narrowed her eyes.
“Look, Hades. If you don’t…want this anymore I need to know.”
Hades’ head jerked and he stared at her.
“What?”
Obviously, she wasn’t making sense. “If you don’t want me—if you don’t think you can forgive me, I don’t think we should be in a relationship, the Fates be damned.”
It was the first time Hades moved since he’d entered the room.
He took deliberate strides toward her and spoke as he moved.
“I never said I didn’t want you. I thought I made that clear yesterday.”
She rolled her eyes. “So, you want to fuck me? That doesn’t mean you want an actual relationship. It doesn’t mean you will trust me again.”
Hades stopped inches from her and narrowed his eyes. “Let me be perfectly clear. I do want to fuck you. More importantly, I love you—deeply, endlessly. If you walked away from me today, I would love you still. I will love you forever. That’s what Fate is, Persephone. Fuck threads and colors…and fuck your uncertainty.”
His bent closer to her as he spoke, his face inches from hers.
“I’m not uncertain,” she said. “I’m afraid, you idiot!”
“Of what? What have I done?”
“This isn’t about you! Gods, Hades. You’d think you of all people would understand.”
She turned her head away, unable to look at him.
After a moment, Hades spoke again, urging, “Tell me.”
Persephone’s mouth quivered. “I’ve longed for love all my life,” she said. “Longed for acceptance because my mother dangled it in front of me like something I had to earn. If I adhered to her expectations, she would grant it, if I didn’t, she’d take it away. You want a queen, a goddess, a lover. I can’t be what you want. I can’t…adhere to these…expectations you have of me!”
There was something freeing about saying all of that out loud. She suddenly felt lighter, like she’d let go of a boulder she’d been carrying on her back.
“Persephone—” Hades’ fingers pressed beneath her chin. She met his gaze. “What do you think of when you think of a queen?”
Persephone’s brows knitted together, and she shook her head as she admitted, “I don’t know. I know what I would like to see in a queen.”
“Then what would you like to see in a queen?”
“Someone who is kind…compassionate…present.”
Hades’ thumb brushed her lips. “And you do not think you are all those things?”
She didn’t answer, and Hades said, “I’m not asking you to be a queen. I’m asking you to be yourself. I’m asking you to marry me. The title comes with our marriage. It changes nothing.”
Persephone swallowed. “Are you asking me to marry you again?”
“Will you?”
Her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t answer. For the last few weeks, she and Hades hadn’t exactly been on speaking terms. They had too much to reconcile. Her eyes watered, and tears streaked her face. Hades brushed them away.
“My darling, you do not have to answer now. We have time—an eternity.”
Their lips met—their kiss sinful and rough and desperate. Persephone felt feverish and frenzied. The adrenaline made her bold, and she reached into his pants, working his cock with her hand. Hades groaned, his teeth skimmed her bottom lip as he pulled away to explore her jaw and neck and breasts.
He looked stunned when she pushed him away. They stood apart for a moment, breathing hard, hot and wet and wild. Then Persephone planted a hand on his chest and directed him backward until the back of his knees hit the bed.
“Sit,” she commanded.
He did, and she held his gaze as she knelt before him. His eyes glitter like obsidian.
“You look like a fucking queen,” he said.
A corner of her mouth lifted. “I am your queen.”
She wrapped her hand around his length and stroked him from root to tip, her thumb moving lightly over the head of his cock.
“Persephone.”
He growled her name, and she took him into her mouth. Hades moaned, his fingers twining into her hair. She took him deep—to the back of her throat, and then into the side of her cheek. She paused to lick and suck, reveling in the taste of him.
“Yes,” he hissed. She could feel him growing thicker, pulsing, and when he came, she drank from him like she had never tasted anything so sweet. Hades drew her to her feet—he kissed her, possessed and paralyzed her. He left her dress in a puddle on the floor and guided her to his bed, divesting himself of his own clothes before covering her body.
He was warm and solid, and he fit against her like he was made for every contour of her body. As he loomed over her, she reached up and drew a piece of his silken hair around her finger.
“Why do you wish to be married?”
Hades’ brow rose, clearly the question amused him. “Haven’t you always dreamed of marriage?”
“No,” she said, and she was being honest. She had never really considered marrying someone as a possibility before. Her mother made sure she never met anyone for the first eighteen years of her life, and once she was free, she was so focused on college and landing a job, she hadn’t thought much about relationships. “You didn’t answer my question. Why is marriage important to you?”
“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “It became important to me when I met you.”
Persephone held his gaze, and drew her legs apart, wrapping them around his waist. She could feel the head of his cock pressing against her entrance. Hades sank into her with a grown. She gasped, gripping his arms. There was something sweet about the beginning—Hades bent to kiss her, letting his forehead rest against hers, and breathed her breath. Then everything changed. Hades’ thrusts became urgent, and his head fell into the crook of her neck, his teeth grazing and biting her skin.
“So fucking sweet,” Hades hissed, looking into her eyes. “Take me deeper, darling.”
She wasn’t sure it was possible; she could already feel him in the bottom of her stomach. Hades’ arms looped under her knees, and he lifted her slightly. Pleasure ripped through her, and she dragged her nails along his skin.
“Harder!” she commanded.
He drove into her, pumping his hips. She clenched around him, her orgasm building inside, clawing its way to the surface.
“Come, darling.”
With his permission, she climaxed and as she came down from her high, Hades groaned, throwing his head back and shuttering.
In the aftermath they lay together, kissing and touching and breathing.
“Gods, I missed you,” Persephone said, resting against Hades, her head on his chest.
Hades chuckled, and they glanced at one another. After a beat of silence, Persephone spoke in a low voice. “You were going to tell me about Leuce.”
“Hmm. Yes,” he said, and after a moment, he pulled her on top of him. “I had a meeting with Ilias at my restaurant. I didn’t know Leuce was there. She hurried after me as I was leaving and grabbed my hand. Old habit.”
Persephone glared, and Hades pressed a finger to her pouting lips. “I jerked away and kept walking. She was asking for a new job.”
“That’s it?”
“Afraid so.”
She collapsed on him. “I feel like an idiot.”
Hades wrapped his arms around her.
“We all get jealous. I like when you’re jealous…except when I think you might actually leave me.”
She rose again, straddling him now.
“I was angry, yes, but…leaving you never occurred to me.”
After a moment, Hades followed her into a sitting position.
“I love you. Even if the Fates unraveled our destiny, I would find a way back to you.”
Persephone twined her arms around Hades neck.
“Do you think they can hear you?” she teased.
“If so, they should take that as a threat.”
Persephone laughed and they came together again. Later, as she dozed off, she couldn’t help wondering about the Fates.
Would they really unravel their destiny?
***
Hades’ absence drew Persephone from sleep.
She sat up, holding his sheets to her chest. The fire blazed, and it was still dark in the Underworld.
Something isn’t right, she thought.
She got out of bed, slipped on her robe, and made her way into the garden. Hades had a habit of wandering into the night just to sit beneath the stars and wisteria. She walked the length of the garden, coming to the edge where it emptied into a field of floral. From here, she could see the lights of Asphodel and the muted fire of Tartarus.
Perhaps he’s gone there, she thought.
She wandered into the field. A warm breeze carried the smell of ash and made the grass rustle around her. It was almost loud enough to drown out the sound of Cerberus, Typhon, and Orthrus’ footsteps, but Persephone heard their panting and turned in time to see the three Doberman’s burst through the grass.
“Oh, my sweet boys,” she patted each one on the head. “Have you seen your papa?”
The three whined. She assumed that was a yes.
“Will you take me to him?”
The three led Persephone through the field and into a tangled wood. She had never been here before and guessed this was a newer edition to the Underworld. Hades’ realm was ever-changing, and she suspected that was to make it harder for people to enter and escape.
The woods seemed to go on forever—deep and dark. Tree limbs were interlaced, creating an archway overhead, and though they were bare, lampades rested there, lighting the path as if it were a starry sky.
The dogs kept their noses to the ground, and surprised Persephone when they bolted from the path, into the forest beyond—would Hades really be so deep in these woods?
She followed, her way lit by the nymphs, until she lost sight and sound of Cerberus, Typhon, and Orthrus.
It was a breathy moan that drew her attention. It came from behind her and grew in frequency.
Persephone moved toward the sound. Her heart hammered in her chest, and the air around her suddenly felt heavy and solid. It wasn’t long before she saw them in a clearing—Hades and Leuce tangled together just as tightly as the branches overhead, the nymphs’ light illuminating their lovemaking.
