***
They retired to Hecate’s cottage, leaving the meadow drained of magic.
“Should I…restore it?” Persephone asked as they walked away.
“No,” Hecate said, nonchalant. “Let Hades sees your handiwork.”
Persephone did not argue. She was feeling tired, though not as exhausted as she had in the past when she’d used her magic. The blood was new, though, and as she sat down at Hecate’s table, the goddess handed her a black cloth.
“You used a lot of power,” Hecate explained. “Your body will grow used to it.”
An earthy, bitter scent filled the space as Hecate prepared tea.
“Have you thought anymore on the wedding?” Hecate asked. “The souls are eager to confirm a date.”
“I haven’t,” Persephone replied, staring down at her hands—her nails were broken, and her fingers were dirty. The wedding brought up other feelings—like blame. Suddenly, she wanted to fight again just so she didn’t have to face how she was feeling.
Hecate placed a steaming mug of tea in front of her along with a jar of honey.
“You’ll need to sweeten it,” she said. “It’s willow bark so it will be bitter.”
Persephone added the honey slowly and sipped the tea. She concentrated hard on the task, avoiding eye contact with Hecate, though she knew the goddess stared.
“Are you well, my dear?” Hecate asked, sitting across from Persephone.
She did not know how to reply, so she stayed quiet, but her eyes blurred with tears.
“My dear?” Hecate’s voice was low.
“No,” she whispered, and her voice cracked. “I am not well.”
Hecate reached across the table and covered Persephone’s hand with her own.
“Do you wish to tell me?”
Persephone swallowed, tears streaming silently down her face.
“It has been a long day,” she said in a hushed tone. She paused and then spoke. “I am afraid Hades will distance himself from me.”
“I do not think he would be able to stay away long,” Hecate replied.
“You do not know what I did.”
“What did you do?”
Persephone recounted what had occurred between them the previous night. She’d had to pause to take deep breaths, not expecting to have such a visceral response to merely recalling the experience, but even now as she thought about how they’d begun—with healing kisses that had slowly morphed into something more passionate—and how it ended, with the horror of reliving Pirithous’ abduction—she found that her heart raced, and her chest hurt.
“Dearest, you did nothing wrong.”
It had not felt that way when she had woken up alone.
“It might be true that Hades is distancing himself, it is likely he is doing so because he thinks he hurt you.”
She knew that was true. She would never forget how horrified he had looked after he had realized what had happened.
“I hurt him,” she replied.
“You scared him,” Hecate are clarified. “There is a difference.”
“I hate Pirithous for what he has done. First he invaded my dreams and now the most sacred part of my life with Hades.”
“Hate him if it helps,” Hecate said. “But Pirithous will not go away until you confront what happened to you.”
Persephone swallowed thickly. “I feel…ridiculous. So many people have experience worse—”
She thought of Lara who had been raped by Zeus.
“Do not compare trauma, Persephone,” Hecate said. “It will do no good. You will find a way to take back your power.”
“I feel powerful when I am with Hades. I feel most powerful when we have sex. I do not know why, only that I am in awe that this god worships at my feet.”
“Then take that power back,” Hecate said. “Sex is about pleasure as much as it is about communication. Talk to Hades. Tell him what you need.”
Persephone met Hecate’s gaze.
“I love him, Hecate. The world wants to take him from me, and I fear if I do not release him, there will be war.”
“Oh, my dear,” Hecate said, a note of melancholy in her voice. “No matter your choice, there is no avoiding war.”
CHAPTER XXIX – HEALING
Persephone ate dinner with the souls in Asphodel. When she returned to the palace, she bathed and changed into a white night gown that stuck to her damp skin. Heading to her bedroom, she was not surprised to find it empty, despite feeling Hades’ presence somewhere in the Underworld. She thought of her conversation with Hecate, and knew she had to end this before it went any further.
Stepping out onto the balcony, she went in search of him, descending the stairs into Hades’ lush garden. The stone pathway was cool against her bare feet, and the air felt damp as if it had just rained, though, as far as Persephone was aware, it did not rain in the Underworld.
As she broke through the shady canopy of the garden, dusk settled in muted tones of pink and orange and blue. A skeletal moon was growing brighter, and beneath that beautiful sky, was Hades. Cerberus, Typhon, and Orthrus ran in circles around him, flattening the grass as they chased after their red ball. It was Cerberus who noticed her first—then Typhon, then Orthrus, and last, Hades who turned and stared as she approached. His eyes were dark and burned every part of her exposed skin. Desire erupted in her stomach, hardening her nipples beneath the thin fabric of her nightgown.
She halted a few steps from him.
“I haven’t seen you all day,” she said.
“It was a busy day,” he answered. “As was yours. I saw the grove.”
“You do not sound impressed.”
“I am, but to say I am surprised would be a lie. I know your capabilities.”
Hades had always known her potential, and yet he’d been the first to teach her that her worth was not tied to her power. It was a hard lesson to learn when the value of the Divine was placed upon their abilities.
Silence stretched between them as the words Persephone wanted to say crowded her mouth. Hades looked so haunted, standing there beneath his beautiful sky. She wanted him so badly—his warmth and his scent. Just say the words, she thought, taking a deep breath, as if to prepare, but she only managed to let it out in a slow stream of air.
“Did you come to say goodnight?” Hades asked.
Persephone looked at him, surprised. She never sought him out to say goodnight because she did not have to—he always went to bed with her, even if he did not stay.
“Will you not come to bed with me?” She asked, watching as Hades’ throat bobbed.
“I will join you shortly,” he replied, but he did not look at her. Instead, he stared off at the fading horizon. It was the second night he’d lied.
Her throat tightened.
She considered leaving—fleeing, really. In the face of the wall Hades was building, it seemed easier to run away than attempt to tear it down. Except, she knew that wasn’t true.
“I want to talk about the other night,” she said, imbuing her voice with as much confidence as she could.
Her request drew Hades’ attention—his fierce gaze, his clenched jaw, his tense body. He opened his mouth and then closed it before looking away.