Persephone felt sick to her stomach.
“Of course, it is your decision,” the doctor said. “I’ll give you some time to think on it. If you have any questions, please, let me know.”
Persephone turned and ran down the hallway to the bathroom. She barely made it to the toilet before vomiting, and when nothing else came out, she heaved.
It took her far longer to compose herself than she imagined and by the time she made it to Lexa’s room, Eliska was alone. She looked up when Persephone entered and smiled.
“Hi, Persephone,” she said.
“Hi, Mrs. Sideris. I hope I’m not bother you. I should have told you I was coming.”
“It’s fine, dear.” Eliska stretched. “If you’re going to be here for a bit, I think I’ll take a walk…”
Persephone managed a nod and a small smile. When Eliska left, she sat on Lexa’s bed and carefully took her hand in her own. Her skin was bruised from the IV and discolored from the tape they used to secure all the tubes going into her body.
Guilt settled heavily on her shoulders. She had failed to find a cure for Lexa’s injuries. The ventilator breathed for her, kept her body going, and Lexa’s parents wanted to take her off.
It was Persephone’s worst fear realized.
What would be so terrible about seeing her enter the Underworld?
It was a question that should have a simple answer, but it was more complicated than that, and on the heels of Hades’ proposal, the truth of her agonizing thoughts were exposed. What if she and Hades weren’t meant to be together forever? What if she lost access to the Underworld and the souls? That would mean she would lose contact with Lexa, too.
She recognized that even when she and Hades had broken up, the God of the Dead had allowed her to retain his favor. She could have gone to the Underworld at any point and visited the souls, but she hadn’t. The thought of going had been too painful and filled her with anxiety—that wouldn’t change if they split again.
“I don’t know if you can hear me,” Persephone said. “But I have so much to tell you.”
As she held Lexa’s hand, she launched into a summary of everything that had happened to her.
She talked about Kal’s ultimatum.
“I should have told you the moment it happened,” she paused and laughed a little. “I’m sure you would have told me to quit—go off and start my own newspaper or something.”
She told her about Hades’ deal with Apollo and how she foiled his plan to meet without her. She talked about Iniquity and all the things she’d learned about Hades.
Her eyes watered as she spoke, “And then he asked me to marry him and I said no. I can hear you asking me what I was I thinking, and the truth is, I don’t know,” she paused and shook her head. “I just know that no matter how much I love him, I can’t marry him right now.”
The only answer was the sound of Lexa’s ventilator.
She had never felt more alone.
“Lexa,” Persephone’s mouth quivered, and giant tears blurred her vision. She pressed a kiss to her best friend’s hand, whispering, “I need you.”
Suddenly, the smell of wildflowers permeated the air, bitter citrus and mint. Persephone went rigid and collected herself as quickly as she could.
“Mother.”
She cringed when she spoke. It was obvious she’d been crying. She didn’t turn to look at Demeter. “What are you doing?”
“I heard about Lexa,” she said. “I came to see if you were okay.”
She’d been in the hospital going on two weeks. If Demeter was really concerned, she would have showed up sooner.
“I’m fine.”
She felt her mother move closer.
“Hades would not help her?”
Again, Persephone tensed. She hated this question, hated it because so many people assumed Hades would help, hated it because she’d let herself believe she might become an exception to his rule, hated it because he was the reason she had to say no.
“He said it was not possible,” she whispered.
She released Lexa’s hand and turned to look at her mother. The goddess had appeared in her mortal form and wore a tailored yellow dress. Her golden hair was sculpted into a tight ponytail that curled at the end.
“Why are you really here?” Persephone asked.
“Is it so hard to believe I am concerned for you?”
“Yes.”
“I have only ever had your best interest in mind, even if you refuse to see it.”
Persephone rolled her eyes. “We are not having this conversation, mother. I made my choice.”
“How will you live your life beside the god who let your best friend die?”
Persephone flinched. She thought about the threads he hid on his skin, and the lives he had exchanged to get them. She would be lying if she didn’t admit that she had wondered why he wouldn’t choose to trade Lexa’s soul for another.
Persephone narrowed her eyes, suddenly suspicious. “If I find out you had anything to do with this—”
“You’ll what?” Demeter goaded. “Go on.”
“I will never forgive you.”
Demeter smiled coldly. “Daughter, for that threat to work, I would need to want forgiveness.”
Persephone ignored the pain of Demeter’s words.
“I did not hurt Lexa. Given the circumstances, I think you should consider—can a daughter of spring truly be death’s bride? Can you stand beside the god who let your friend die?”
The truth was Persephone did not know and that made her feel guilty and angry. She clenched her fists.
“Shut up,” she gritted out.
“You should channel your anger against the Fates,” Demeter said. “They’re the ones who have taken your friend.”
Persephone offered a sarcastic laugh. “Like you did? How did that turn out for you?”
Demeter narrowed her eyes. “That remains to be seen.”
Persephone turned from her mother and looked at Lexa again. Seeing her like this was the hardest thing she’d ever experienced, and it was getting worse every time she stepped through the hospital door.
“Hades isn’t the only god who could help you. Apollo is the God of Healing.”
Persephone’s body seized.
“Of course, you may have ruined any chance you might have had at securing his aid after that atrocious article you released.”
“If you came to defend him, I won’t hear it. Apollo hurt my friend and so many others.”
“You think any god is innocent?” She paused to laugh, and the sound was chilling. “Daughter, even you cannot escape our corruption. It is what comes with power.”
“What? Being a bad person?”
“No, it is the freedom to do whatever you want. You cannot tell me if given the opportunity, you would defy the Fates in favor of saving your friend.”
“Those decisions have consequences, mother.”
“Since when? Tell me the impact your articles have had on the gods, Persephone. You wrote about Hades and he ended up with a lover. You wrote about Apollo and he is still beloved,” she paused to laugh. “Consequences for gods? No, daughter, there are none.”
“You’re wrong. Gods always require a favor—favors mean consequences.”