Harmonia was quiet and lifted her slender, shaking hand to touch the broken horns at the front of her head.
“Why do you think they did it?” She whispered.
“To prove a point,” Hades replied.
“What is the point, Hades?” Aphrodite asked, the anger evident in her voice.
“That gods are expendable.”
Expendable.
Disposable.
Useless.
“And they wanted proof,” he added. “It won’t be long before news of your attack spreads whether we want it to or not.”
“Are you not the god of threats and violence?” Aphrodite asked. “Use your seedy underbelly to get ahead of this.”
“You forget, Aphrodite, that we must discover who they are first. By that time, word will have already spread, if not among the masses, among those who wish to see us fall.”
Persephone found herself thinking of Sybil—what would the oracle do in a time like this? It was a PR nightmare, but worse, it communicated that the gods were fallible—that they could, potentially, be defeated—and the last time mortals had fought against the gods, the world had drowned in their blood.
“But we must let it go for now,” he said.
“Why? Do you wish for this to happen again?” Aphrodite demanded. “It has already happened twice!”
The words were an insult to Hades—and Persephone—who only wished to help.
“Aphrodite,” Persephone spoke her name, her tone warning
“I understand what Lord Hades is saying,” Harmonia interrupted. “Someone is bound to let their knowledge of my ordeal slip and when they do, you will be ready…won’t you, Hades?”
Persephone looked from Harmonia to the God of the Dead who nodded.
“Yes,” he said. “We will be ready.”
CHAPTER XI – A TOUCH OF a nightmare
Persephone and Hades left the island of Lemnos and returned to the Underworld. When they appeared in his bedchamber, Hades grasped her shoulders and crushed her against him as he took her mouth against his, kissing her as if he were claiming her soul. For a moment, she was stunned. She’d had it in her head that they’d return and argue. Hades knew she was angry with him and he did not like to let it simmer. She gave way to the feel of his lips, the thrust of his tongue, the smell of ash and pine clinging to his skin. He shifted his arm, cradling her head in the bend of his elbow while the other went to her face. With a final sweep of his tongue across her lips, he pulled away.
Her eyes fluttered open to find Hades gazing at her tenderly, as if he were realizing his love for her all over again.
“What was that for?” she asked, breathless.
“You defended me to Aphrodite,” he said.
Persephone opened her mouth to speak but had no words. She’d snapped at the Goddess of Love because her words had been cruel, and Hades was not deserving of her censure. It hurt her to think she’d once done the same.
“I am thankful,” he added.
She smiled up at him and his gaze lowered to her lips, before his brows knitted together over his hardening, dark eyes.
“I hurt your feelings,” he said, frowning.
His words were an arrow to her chest, stealing her smile as she recalled what had made her ache outside Aphrodite’s home. She looked away for a moment, her thoughts a little chaotic, but she thought it was best to just be direct. She met his gaze.
“Do you trust me?” she asked.
Hades’ eyes widened.
“Persephone—”
“Whatever you’re about to do, stop,” Hecate said, appearing in the room, her hand covering her eyes.
The two turned to look at her. She was dressed more formally than usual, wearing robes the color of midnight roses and her hair in braids.
“Shall we undress before she opens her eyes?” Hades asked, gazing down at Persephone.
Hecate dropped her hand and glared. “The souls are waiting. You two are late!”
“Late for what?” Persephone asked.
“Your engagement party!”
They exchanged a look as Hecate reached for Persephone’s hand and dragged her toward the door. “Come, we don’t have much time to get you ready.”
“And me?” Hades said. “What shall I wear to this party?”
Hecate looked over her shoulder.
“You only have two outfits, Hades. Choose one.”
Then they were out the door, heading down the marble hall toward the Queen’s Suite where she usually prepared for events. Once inside, Hecate summoned her magic. The smell of it made her stiffen, perhaps because the last time she used it in Persephone’s presence, she’d ordered her grim to attack. It was the smell that triggered her—blackberry and incense—and the feel—something old and ancient and dark—but when it touched her, it was a caress, a faint prodding that felt like silk unfurling over skin. She relaxed beneath it, closing her eyes and letting it take hold, tangling around her body and in her hair. It wasn’t long after that Hecate spoke.
“Perfect,” she said, and Persephone opened her eyes to find the Goddess of Magic smiling.
“No lampades this time?”
“Unfortunately, we do not have time for leisure,” she said. “Come—look at my handiwork.”
The Goddess turned Persephone to face the mirror and she released a breath. She wore a dusty pink gown with a fitted bodice and a skirt made of tulle. It was simple and beautiful. In the process of using her magic, Hecate had stripped away Persephone’s glamour and she stood in her divine form, slender white horns twisted from her head and white camellia flowers formed a crown at their base. Her hair curled down her back, all varying tones of gold. Her eyes—bottle green and gleaming—made her look wild, untamed, menacing.
She’d always known there was darkness inside her. Hecate and Hades had both seen it when she could only feel it.
Now she saw it, too.
There is darkness within you. Anger, fear, resentment. If you do not free yourself first, no one else can.
She met Hecate’s gaze in the mirror, and the witch offered a gentle smile. She’d heard her thoughts.
“This darkness is not the same. This darkness is toil and trauma, grief and loss. It is the darkness that will make you Queen of the Underworld.”
Then Hecate leaned forward, holding Persephone’s lithe shoulders between her hands, settling her chin upon her shoulder.
“Look long at yourself, my love, but do not fear the change.”
She stared for a moment longer and found that she wasn’t afraid of the person staring back at her. In fact, she liked her despite the pain and the grief. She was broken and somehow better for it.
“Come,” Hecate slide her fingers through Persephone’s and teleported.
They appeared in the middle of Asphodel, beneath an ethereal canopy of lights and glimmering white cloth. Lanterns and bouquets of white and blush roses, delphiniums, stock, and hydrangeas flanked either side of the road. There were candles in every window and tables outside each home crowded with an array of food, all various specialties of the souls who resided inside. The smells were varied and mouth-watering. The souls themselves were out in droves, all well-dressed and gleeful.
“Lady Persephone has arrived!” Hecate announced and after they bowed, they cheered, approaching her to hold her hand or clutch her dress.