“I am king, Hades. Perhaps you need reminding.”
“If that is your wish. I am more than happy to be the end of your reign.”
A tense silence followed.
“Are you pregnant?” Hera asked.
Persephone’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“Need I repeat myself?” Hera asked, annoyed.
“That question is not appropriate,” Persephone said.
“And yet it is important when considering the prophecy,” she replied.
Persephone glared at the goddess.
“Why is that?”
“The prophecy states that your marriage will produce a god more powerful than Zeus. A child born of this union would be a very powerful god—a giver of life and death.”
Persephone looked at Hades.
“There is no child,” Hades said. “There will be no children.”
Poseidon chuckled. “Even the most careful of men have children, Hades. How can you possibly ensure that when you cannot even get through a dance without leaving to fuck?”
“I do not have to be careful,” Hades said. “It is the Fates who have taken my ability to have children. It is the Fates who wove Persephone into my world.”
“Do you wish to remain childless?” The question came from Hera. Persephone could tell she was curious.
“I want to marry Hades,” she said. “If I must remain childless, then I will.”
But as she spoke the words, her chest ached—not for herself but Hades. When he’d told her of the bargain he’d made, he had agonized, and she had quickly recognized that it was Hades who had wanted children.
“You are certain you cannot have children, brother?” Zeus asked.
“Very,” he gritted out.
“Let them marry Zeus,” Poseidon said. “Obviously they wish to fuck as husband and wife.”
Persephone really hated Poseidon.
“And if the marriage produces a child?” Zeus asked. “I do not trust the Fates. Their threads are ever-moving, ever-changing.”
“Then we take the child,” Hera said.
Persephone held onto Hades’ hand so tight, she thought his fingers might break. All she could think was do not speak—do not protest.
“There will be no child,” Hades repeated, adamant.
There was a long moment where Hades and Zeus stood opposite one another, glaring. It was so hot in this room, and each breath Persephone took felt like it was clawing its way out of her throat. She needed to get out of here.
“I will bless this union,” Zeus said at last. “But if the goddess ever becomes pregnant, the infant must be terminated.”
At Zeus’s words, Hades wasted no time leaving. One second, they stood in the temple on Olympus and the next they were in the Underworld.
Dizzy, Persephone hit the ground and vomited.
CHAPTER XXXI – A TOUCH OF FOREVER
“It’s okay,” Hades said. He knelt beside her, gathering her to him, brushing her hair out of her sweaty face as she sobbed.
“It’s not,” she said. “It isn’t.”
They had demanded her child. She did not even know if it was possible for her to ever conceive, but the idea that Zeus would take her child devastated her.
“I will destroy him,” she said. “I will end him.”
“My darling, I have no doubt,” Hades said. “Come, on your feet.”
She rose with him and Hades took her face between his hands. “Persephone, I would never—will never—let them have any part of you. Do you understand?”
She nodded, despite wondering how he could stop them. Zeus was determined to eliminate any and all threats—except the ones that mattered. There was a part of her that did not even trust his blessing.
Hades took her to the baths, to a smaller pool than the one they usually used. This one was round and raised.
“Let me,” Hades said, helping her out of her gown and into the pool. The water was warm and came to her breasts. Hades knelt, lathering a bar of soap between the folds of a cloth. She shivered as he began washing her—starting with her back, her shoulders, her arms, when he reached her breasts, his movements slowed, and he ran the cloth over her in soft passes until her nipples beaded beneath his touch. When she could take no more, she reached for his wrists.
“Hades,” she breathed.
His eyes burned into hers, and he leaned forward and kissed her. Persephone’s arms wound around his neck, and she drew him closer, covering him in soap.
“I want you,” she breathed as his lips left hers.
“Marry me,” he said.
She laughed. “I already said yes.”
“You have, so marry me. Tonight.”
Her brows knitted together as she studied him, gauging his seriousness.
“I do not trust Zeus or Poseidon or Hera, but I trust us,” he said. “Marry me tonight and they cannot take it away.”
There was something else at work inside her—an excitement that rose at the thought of finally being Hades’ wife. At not having to plan anymore, to worry about flowers or venues or approval.
“Yes,” she said and as Hades’ smile broke across his face, she felt like she was falling in love with him all over again. He kissed her and for a long moment, she wondered if they would leave the baths, but Hades eventually pulled away.
“I will have you tonight as my wife,” he said. “Come, I will summon Hecate.”
She rinsed off and changed into a robe Hades held for her. The Goddess of Witchcraft was already waiting as they left the baths.
“Oh, my dear!” she said, wrapping her arms around Persephone. “Can you believe it? You will be married tonight! Let’s get you ready,” she said, looping Persephone’s arm through her own. She glared at Hades. “And if I see—or sense—you anywhere near the Queen’s Suite, I will banish you to Arachne’s Pit.”
“I will not peek,” Hades said, grinning at Persephone, his eyes alight and then his voice dipped. “I’ll see you soon.”
They parted then, and Persephone found herself in the familiar space of the Queen’s Suite—the space Hades had made before he knew he would ever have a lover, before he knew of her existence. This room was his hope.
Hope, she thought. The most dangerous weapon.
She wasn’t sure what brought on that thought, but it sent a tremor up her spine that even Hecate noticed.
“Nervous, dear?”
“No,” she said. “I’m more ready than ever.”
Hecate grinned. “Sit, the lampades are ready.”
She gestured to the white vanity where the fairy-like creatures hovered. They were tiny silver-skinned nymphs with almost invisible wings. White flowers burst against their dark hair. As she sat, they went to work, their magic tingled against her skin and molded her hair. They were quick and efficient, and when they fluttered to hover behind her head, she admired their work—simple makeup that accentuated the curve of her eyes, the bow of her lips, the height of her cheekbones, and the soft, pale waves of her hair. Upon her head, at the base of her horns, was a crown of baby’s breath.
“Beautiful,” she said, and then her eyes shifted to Hecate who hovered in the reflection of the mirror. She held a white gown draped over her arms.