Aimee Carter - Goddess of the Underworld

“Persephone?”

I exhaled. Not Hades. “Hermes? What are you doing here?”

“You’re upset,” he said as he moved to sit in front of me. We’d grown up together, babies compared to the rest of the council, and seeing him now made me more homesick than ever. “Did Hades hurt you?”

He was the first person to acknowledge that maybe this wasn’t my fault, and my heart swelled in gratitude. “N-no.” I hiccupped. “I just—I can’t go back.”

He took my hands, his fingers smooth and cool. That small gesture of affection was enough to make me break down all over again, and I rested my head on his shoulder as I cried. I hated feeling like this—I hated not having the courage to give Hades a chance. But it wasn’t him. It was the feeling of being suffocated, smothered, burned out before I’d had the chance to live. Why hadn’t I questioned my parents earlier? Why hadn’t I demanded a chance to get to know Hades and the Underworld better? Why hadn’t they given me a choice?

Because they’d known what I would say if they had. They must have. Mother knew me better than I knew myself, and my trust in her—the same trust that had made me take the plunge into this marriage—was too absolute for me to question it before. Even now I second-guessed myself. Was I being hasty? Should I give Hades a chance? Did I even have a choice?

No, and that only made me cry harder. I didn’t have a choice. Whether I liked it or not, I would have to return to the Underworld. Unless—

My eyes flew open, and I sat up. Hermes straightened as well, but I spoke before he could utter a word. “Run away with me.”

His lips formed a perfect circle. “What?”

“You heard me. Run away with me. We can go someplace they’ll never find us, like Aphrodite and Ares did, and—and we can be happy. ”

“Wait.” He pulled away from me. “You mean you want—you and me—”

I shivered. After last night, I never wanted to have that sort of relationship with anyone ever again. “No, I mean—as friends. Brother and sister, whatever we are.” We weren’t, technically, since Zeus had taken different forms to father us and we had different mothers. But I needed someone else to love me. I didn’t care what kind of love it was, as long as it meant I could get away from Hades. “Please.”

Hermes hesitated, and I could see the wheels turning in his head. Hope blossomed inside my chest, pushing aside the coldness and despair. He was considering it. He was really considering it.

“Persephone …” He took my hands in his again. “You know I want nothing more than to see you happy, but Zeus already forbade anyone from interfering with your marriage. If we left, Zeus and Hades would both hunt us down, and I’d get a lightning bolt to the skull for sure.”

My heart sank, and that delicate bubble of hope deflated. “He really ordered everyone not to help me?”

Hermes nodded. “I’m sorry. But maybe you and Hades could talk it out. You could just be his queen and not his wife, right? He needs you to help him rule, not warm his bed.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting another wave of tears. I was never getting out of this. Not now, not in a thousand years, not ever. Not as long as Zeus treated me like property and Hades went along with him. “He would never agree,” I whispered.

“So don’t give him a choice.” Hermes tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, his touch so gentle that I shifted closer. “Just tell him. You’re stronger than you think you are, Persephone. Never question that. You can do whatever you set your mind to, circumstances be damned.”

“I wish—” My voice broke, and I swallowed thickly. “I wish I were like Aphrodite. I wish I had the strength to do what she did.”

“Maybe someday you will,” he said. “You just need to find the right person is all. If Hades isn’t it, then there’s nothing wrong with that. This doesn’t have to be forever if you don’t want it to be.”

I snorted despite myself. “Everything in our family is forever.”

“Only the good things,” he said. “We usually find a way to fix the bad ones.”

“Don’t see how anyone would agree to let me off the hook if I don’t even try.”

“Then try. Do whatever you have to do to prove to yourself and the rest of the council that it isn’t a good fit.”

“Hades will never let me go,” I mumbled. “Not now, not in a hundred years, not ever. He loves me.”

“If he really loves you, then once he understands how miserable you are, he will let you go,” said Hermes. “Just because he’s a good guy doesn’t mean he’s a good guy for you.”

I shook my head. “You can say all the pretty things you want, but that won’t change anything.”

“You’re right,” he said. “The only one who can change any of this is you. You just have to try.”

“But I already did.”

“I know. They should’ve listened.” He pulled me into a hug. The weight of his arms around my shoulders was a comfort, and I managed to relax against him. At least I had someone on my side.

A moment later, the breeze picked up again, and I sensed a second presence in the meadow. The sun dipped beneath the horizon, and Hermes stiffened. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Please,” I whispered one last desperate time. “I’ll do anything.”

“I can’t. I’m sorry.” Hermes’s voice was low and his words rushed. “Listen—I’ll visit you all the time, I promise. You won’t be alone. Just do me a favor and give yourself a chance, all right? Do whatever you have to do to be happy, even if that means upsetting the council. They’ve already had their say. Now it’s your turn.”

I pressed my lips together. Being that kind of selfish went against everything Mother had taught me. Be there for others; place their happiness above my own; be content with my life; don’t be greedy or envious or unkind; appreciate the warmth and love around me, and don’t covet what I don’t have.

But how could I appreciate what wasn’t there? Hades may have loved me, but what did that mean if I couldn’t feel it? He could love me more than anyone loved anyone else in the entire world, and it still wouldn’t help if I didn’t love him back. Maybe in time I would adjust and grow to love him, but right now, all I could think about was the rock weighing down on me and the feeling of Hades’s body over mine. And I didn’t have the patience to wait.

“Promise me, Persephone,” whispered Hermes, and at last I nodded.

“I promise.”

Behind me, something—rather, someone—cast a shadow over me with what little daylight remained, and I shivered. “Hades.”

“I am sorry to interrupt,” he said quietly, and there was something about the way he said it that made me think he really was. “If I could speak with you alone, Persephone?”

Hermes nodded, and before I could protest, he untangled himself from me and stood. “I’ll see you around,” he said to me, and at least I knew he wasn’t just saying that. At sixteen, he was training for his role on the council, as I was, and part of that included guiding the dead down to the Underworld. Chances were good I’d see him often, and that one reminder was enough for me to breathe easier. It wouldn’t be just me and Hades down there. I had to remember that.

Once Hermes walked off into the woods, Hades knelt beside me. His long, dark hair, usually so impeccable, was mussed, and his fingers dug into his thighs. “I owe you an apology.”

Not this again. “You don’t owe me anything,” I mumbled, staring down at a lopsided blossom. “I’m sorry I ran up here.”

“Do not be,” he said. Neither of us could look at the other. “What happened last night … I promise you it will not happen again, not unless we are both willing and prepared.”