“Good,” she heard Hecate say, and when Persephone opened her eyes, she saw that her hand was healed, the only evidence that she’d been injured was the blood on the table.
“Again,” the goddess said, picking up the scissors.
Persephone flinched and stood. “No.”
Hecate stared, still holding the bloodied shears aloft. “What do you want, Persephone?”
“What does that have to do with stabbing myself?”
“Everything. You magic is reactive, more than likely due to trauma, and while that is not your fault, we are running out of time. Do you think you can take four minutes to heal yourself on the battlefield?”
“This is not battle, Hecate.”
“It soon will be—and where would you rather learn? So I ask you again. What do you want?”
She wanted…Hades. She wanted the Underworld, the Upperworld, she wanted…
“Everything,” she said, breathless.
“Then fight for it,” Hecate said.
Persephone extended her palm.
They practiced for over an hour. After the twentieth time, Persephone stopped flinching when the scissors speared her palm. It wasn’t long after that she began to heal the wound before the blades even left her body. Directed by Hecate, she became familiar with the way her magic reacted to the intrusion, strongest upon impact, immediately heating her skin and raising the hair on the back of her neck.
“It is urging you to use it,” Hecate said. “It wants to protect you.”
Persephone had heard those words before but now she was starting to understand them and her magic. It wasn’t some foreign thing that invaded her body, it was just as natural to her as her blood and bone.
“That’s enough for today,” Hecate said.
Persephone had lost count of the times she’d been stabbed. She felt tired, but strangely aware. Like her body had become a viper, coiled and ready to strike. For once, since her powers had awakened, they did not feel so far away.
“Yes, my dear,” Hecate hissed, and Persephone met the goddess’s dark gaze. “You understand now because you can feel it. It isn’t about summoning power. It is about becoming it.”
Becoming power.
“How often can we train like this?” Persephone asked.
“As often as you’d like,” Hecate said.
“Please, Hecate.”
The goddess stretched out a hand and cupped her chin. For the first time since they’d started training today, her gaze turned gentle.
“As long you remember that I love you,” she answered.
The words made Persephone’s stomach clench—they were words full of dread and promise and fear—but those were feelings that existed outside of this cottage, too—in the Upperworld where her mother’s magic raged and where Harmonia had been attacked. At least here with Hecate…she knew she’d be safe.
“Of course. How could I forget?”
Hecate offered a sad smile. “Oh, my dear. I can make you regret that we were ever friends.”
***
Persephone considered heading to Elysium to visit Lexa, but after her session with Hecate, she felt particularly drained. Instead, she returned to the palace. Cerberus, Typhon, and Orthrus walked dutifully beside her, and she got the sense they’d been ordered to escort her within the Underworld, more than likely due to her tendency to wander off and find trouble. Her suspicions were confirmed when, as soon as she stepped foot inside Hades’ palace, the three Doberman’s dispersed.
She wasn’t upset by their presence or their escort, but it did make her look forward to a time when she needed it less. Once again, she thought of Hecate’s words, and wondered what exactly she was getting herself into by asking the goddess to train her as she’d done today.
“Oh, and Persephone,” Hecate had said as she was leaving her cottage. “Do not tell Hades about today. I do not think I need to tell you that he would disapprove.”
Those words weighed heavily upon her as she made her way to their bedchamber. She’d made a practice of being completely transparent with Hades, especially after losing Lexa. It took a lot of work considering she wasn’t used to communicating at all. Growing up beneath her mother’s thumb had taught her that expressing one’s opinion or feelings drew attention and criticism. It was best to just stay silent—to exist as much in secret as possible to keep from punishment.
That was the way she’d lived for years, but after Lexa’s death, she realized she couldn’t do that anymore. More importantly, there was no need. Hades wanted to hear from her, wanted to understand her perspective—and she wanted the same from him.
She was still considering how to talk to him about Hecate’s training methods when she entered the bedroom to find Hades occupying his usual space in front of the fire and another god she did not know. He was handsome and elegant—black skin, hair white and short, curling close to his head. He had wide, doe-like eyes and full lips. He wore white with gold accents—a belt about the waist and a layer of necklaces. His feet were bare, but that was probably because he did not need shoes—large, white wings sprouted from his back.
“Hello,” she said, closing the door behind her. “Am I…interrupting something?”
She realized it was a strange question, but…the bedroom was also a strange place for Hades to conduct business.
The unknown god snorted.
“Persephone,” Hades said, pulling one hand out of his pocket to gesture toward the god. “This is Hypnos, God of Sleep. He is Thanatos’s brother. They are nothing alike.”
Hypnos glared. “She would have figured that out on her own, you didn’t have to tell her.”
“I didn’t want her to have the false impression that you would be as kind.”
Persephone stared, a little surprised by how quickly the tone and atmosphere of the room had changed in the presence of these two.
“I am not unkind,” Hypnos argued. “But I do not do well in the presence of idiots. You are not an idiot, are you, Lady Persephone?”
He was definitely not like Thanatos. This god felt more unpredictable. Perhaps it was because of the nature of sleep.
“N-no,” she said, offering a hesitant answer.
“I have asked Hypnos here so that he may help you sleep,” Hades said quickly.
“I am sure she’s gathered that,” Hypnos snapped.
“And you? Did you tell him that you do not sleep?”
Hypnos laughed—a deep sound that came from somewhere in his throat. “The God of the Dead admitting that he needs help? That is a pipe dream.”
Up until now, Hades had remained unfazed by the grumpy god, but suddenly, his eyes darkened.
“This is about you,” he returned, working to make his voice sound gentle and calm despite the fact that he gritted his teeth. “She hasn’t been sleeping and when she does, she wakes from nightmares. Sometime covered in sweat, sometimes screaming.”
“It’s…nothing,” Persephone tried to argue. She wasn’t keen on going down this path—on reliving what she had experienced since the day Pirithous took her. “They’re just nightmares.”
“And you’re just a glorified gardener,” Hypnos replied.