That Fatal Kiss (15 page)

“You are correct.”

“Then Eros requested this of you.”

“By way of his mother, yes.”

“And Psyche was never in any real danger.”

“She was not.”

Persephone nodded her understanding. “Well. I am glad of it.” She rose from her throne. “If you’ve no further need of me at present, I would like to take some air in the courtyard.”

Hades went to the foot of the throne. He stared up at her and then extended his hand. “Allow me to assist you.”

The tears rushed to Persephone’s eyes again and she looked away, that he might not see them. “I thank you, but I do not require assistance.” She quickly descended, growing tense as she passed his still outstretched hand on her way to the chamber’s door. But she arrived at the portal without incident.

“Persephone…”

The goddess, poised to flee the throne room, checked her movement.

“I would never have you act in a way contrary to your nature. Never.”

A flood of words rushed to Persephone’s lips. She finally settled on, “Then I’m glad of that, as well.” She bowed her head and left the chamber.

XIII.

PERSEPHONE RETREATED TO
the courtyard and remained there until the light filling it turned dusky. She sat upon one of the four benches of stone, facing but not truly seeing the heart of the clearing, where a pit for fire sat, unlit.

The goddess breathed deeply of the fresh air, which, oddly, enjoyed more motion here than in the realms of Erebus she’d traveled thus far. The coolness, in fact, had Persephone eyeing the fire pit, thinking she might light it. Only she was so low in spirit, she could not bestir herself to do so.

Yes, she was low in spirit and mightily confused by her own thoughts. How was it possible for her to have endured such a scene as she had with Hades and yet feel drawn to him, wanting to dispel the fear his eyes failed to conceal when she’d left him?
Groaning Gaia.
Persephone had wanted to comfort him, of all things. And she’d wanted comforting in return. She’d wanted to recreate the promising intimacy they’d just begun to enjoy the night before, the intimacy they’d shared after he’d agreed to let her have her say.

The goddess thought back to Hades’ admissions to her, to his expressed willingness to forbear, to let her go to him, not when he willed it, but when
she
did. And in spite of the day’s events, Persephone did will it, even as she berated herself for a fool. She knew she was every kind of idiot imaginable, but she could not shake her belief that Hades was, at bottom, a better soul than he’d shown himself to be. A belief based on very little, perhaps, but there it was. Persephone felt she could not desire him if he were not a more honorable, more noble soul. And desire him, she most certainly did.

A cool breeze brushed her bared arms, reminding Persephone of the feel of Hades’ hands upon her, and she shivered, as much from the warmth of the memory as from the cold around her. Then the fire pit blazed to life as footsteps sounded along one of the paths leading to the center of the courtyard. Hades soon emerged from the shadows, bearing an enormous bouquet of blood-red flowers, exactly like the ones he’d used to lure her to him above ground.

He came to a halt before her. “Will you accept these?”

The goddess tore her eyes from his face to consider his offering. Aye, they were the same type of unusual flowers, though thornier than the stem she’d plucked above. But Persephone reached for them regardless, thinking she would will the thorns away once the bouquet was in her hands. This she did, simultaneously willing into existence a jar with water large enough to contain them. As she set the newly filled jar beside her on the bench, something shone in the periphery. Persephone realized Hades’ hands had not escaped the thorns’ wrath and it was the ichor which flowed from the cuts that glinted in the firelight. “You’re hurt,” she said.

Hades raised both hands to see them better. “Mere scratches,” he finally said.

Persephone rose, took both of his hands, and led him closer to the fire. By its light, she gently ran her fingertips along the cuts, first on one hand, then the other, sealing them. When she’d finished, the goddess released her hold, but Hades caught her wrists.

“You are…unhappy with me, and yet you heal these insignificant wounds?”

“If you’ve come to know me through your Viewing Mirror, it shouldn’t surprise you that I cannot bear to see another suffer,” Persephone said, thinking she should pull away from him. And yes, she certainly should, but she absolutely didn’t want to. Nevertheless, she added, “I’m more than unhappy. I’m angry, confused…and I think you’re confused as well.”

“I? What about?”

“About what you really want from me.”

Hades’ hands slid down from her wrists to pull her hands to his chest. “There is no confusion on my part. I know exactly what I want from you.”

Persephone felt herself go hot from the tips of her ears to the tips of her toes. “I…I hesitate to request elaboration.”

The god’s lips curved in a smile, yet it was earnestly that he told her, “I want everything. Everything you are, Persephone. And everything you want to be.”

A shudder of delight coursed through her and Persephone had to pull out of his grasp, the better to think clearly. “Hours ago you wanted only my silence and obedience.”

Hades began to pace about the fire. She watched him in an agony of anticipation, both eager for, and fearing to hear, his response. Then the god settled and stared into the fire.

“I’ve had sole rule of this world, for eons.” Hades said. “All here are in service to me, in some way or other. I’ve grown accustomed to saying a thing and seeing its immediate realization. My word is law, final and absolute, and I’ve never had to consider another’s thoughts or…or feelings on any of my decisions as king. Until now.”

The Host of Many drew away from the fire and sat on a bench, stiffly. “There was much truth in what you said to me before. I should have told you about Eros’ involvement before Psyche arrived. As my queen, you are entitled to the highest regard from not only my subjects, but also from me.”

He got to his feet and strode toward the fire once more. His back to her, Hades said, “I did not acquit myself well today. But I will do better.”

Persephone felt the tension leave her. “I believe you will.”

As he turned to face her again, she drew closer to the fire pit. The goddess’ eyes fell on the frisking flames but she felt the heat from Hades’ gaze more powerfully.

“Thank you,” he said.

She inclined her head graciously, then smiled broadly. “I feel I should tell you, Hades, that you’re not the only one who must do better.” Persephone glanced at him and had to hold back a chuckle at the expression of surprise, then doubt, which crossed his face.

Then he too smiled as he said, “Dare
I
request elaboration?”

“I’m unaccustomed to having my curiosity go unsatisfied. Then your anger spurred my own. I’d meant to control my responses to you, but I lost my temper. And we won’t get anywhere if one of us can’t manage to keep a cool head when these… challenges present themselves.” Persephone paused, as if deep in thought. “Now that I think on it, however, I see I’m being too harsh with myself. Given your more advanced years, the task of self-mastery should certainly, at all times, fall to you.” Persephone punctuated this sentiment with a wide-eyed, innocent look.

The look Hades returned was not so innocent. “I think you’ll find, minx, that my
advanced years
render me capable of surmounting just about any challenge you care to offer.”

The goddess’ entire body flamed at his words and a powerful, almost painful, need swelled within the deepest part of her. She squeezed her thighs together and breathlessly said, “It’s good of you to be so accommodating, Hades.”

“And will you be so…accommodating, Persephone?”

Holy Hestia.
“Perhaps,” she said as lightly as she could manage. She went to seat herself on the bench he’d recently occupied. “But for the moment, I would like you to accommodate me further by telling me how Eros’ request for your assistance came by way of his mother, if you please.”

“I’m happy to share with you the sordid story, only my aging bones tire of standing for so long.” Hades joined her on the bench, sitting quite close. “I trust you won’t begrudge me this much needed rest?”

“N-n-no. Pray, tell me your tale.”

Hades apprised Persephone of the events which led Psyche down into the Underworld. He halted briefly as he explained that his part in the drama had been in exchange for Hephaestus’ chains. But the goddess displayed no rancor, so he went on until the moments just before Psyche’s arrival at the palace.

“I hope they can be happy now,” Persephone said of the reunited couple.

“I expect they will be,” Hades replied, then surprised the goddess by reaching for her left hand and kissing it. “As I hope we will.”

Her heart thundering in her chest, Persephone said, “Though I do worry that Aphrodite won’t let them be at peace for long. Or, for that matter, us, for the fact that Psyche failed to die from the beauty-in-a-box ruse.”

“You needn’t worry about Aphrodite.”

“No?” Persephone’s breath caught in her throat as Hades’ thumb swirled lazy circles on her wrist. “Why would the wicked female not employ some revenge against us, when she won’t scruple to thwart her own son’s happiness?”

“I held up my end of the bargain,” the god maintained calmly. “Therefore, she has nothing for which she may reasonably seek vengeance.”

“You do Aphrodite a kindness in crediting her with being given to reason.”

“She must possess some ability to reason, else she’d never advance very far in her schemes. As you must surely comprehend.”

Persephone’s brow furrowed. “Must I?”

“Of course,” Hades said, idly bringing her hand up against the side of his face. “You, especially, are intimately aware of the ways in which parents seek to manipulate their children.”

The goddess pulled her hand away. “Why me, especially?”

“Your own mother’s been doing nothing but meddling in your affairs for years.”

“Has she?” Persephone asked tightly.

“Hasn’t she? You yourself confessed to me only last night that it’s been her interference which has prevented you from achieving your own satisfaction, as a goddess of marriageable age.”

Persephone sat stunned for a moment, then arose from the bench to look down at him. “How can you say this compares, in any way, to Aphrodite’s behavior? Where the misnamed Goddess of Love acts out of self-interest, Demeter has acted only out of love for me. Surely there is a difference.”

“You think your mother kept you from marrying for your own benefit?”

“What other motivation could she have had? Mother has been careful for me because she wants me to be happy. Even you know enough of matters above ground to appreciate that a bad marriage is eternal punishment. Demeter simply wants me to be with the right one.”

“Certainly, and in her eyes, the
right one
to share eternity with you is herself,” Hades said, also rising. “Has it not occurred to you, Persephone, that Demeter prolonged your husband-hunting for the simple reason that she cannot bear to part with you? That the thought of marrying you off and letting you make your home with another fills her with such jealousy that she keeps you to herself under the guise of concern for your welfare? She finds fault with each and every suitor so that you’ll give up your search and choose, instead, to remain with her.” Hades gave a mirthless laugh. “That also explains why she encouraged you to ‘sample’ what married life would have to offer.”

“What can you possibly mean by that?”

“Well, you’re a healthy girl. You were bound to develop an interest in the physical side of marriage. Demeter believed that if she aided you in satisfying that interest, you’d not be so eager to leave her maternal embrace for a lustier one. Indeed, I doubt she’d have risked the damage to your reputation had she ever intended to see you marry well.”

Persephone’s mouth opened and closed several times before she could speak. Finally, she was able to say, “You forget that the person whom you malign is dear to me, Hades.” Then she wrapped her arms around herself and crept back toward the fire pit.

She heard him say something from behind her but was too absorbed by the riot of her own thoughts to take it in. For Hades had, in a matter of moments, succinctly articulated all of the uneasy feelings she’d grappled with for some time. She had not wanted to believe it, that her mother could also be given to such self-serving, deceitful behavior, and had pushed such thoughts from her head. Persephone had told herself, repeatedly, that Demeter was being cautious for her daughter’s good, but the niggling doubts remained nevertheless, buried deep in the back of Persephone’s mind. And Hades’ words blew open the cover of her own intangible box, releasing the dark mists of suspicion until she had no choice but to face them squarely and admit that Demeter was just as susceptible to her baser instincts as the rest.

As the goddess accepted this shocking truth about her mother, part of what Hades had called after her clicked into place in her mind. Persephone turned around to find him standing only a step or two away from her and nearly fell backward into the pit from astonishment. Hades deftly caught her up, however, and after she caught her breath, she asked, “What was it you just said?”