Two pink spots appeared on her cheeks. “Fine. If you’re not even open to the idea, then there’s no point.”
“You’re right, there isn’t.”
Huffing, she stood and ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m going back to Olympus. Hermes, are you coming?”
“Go on. I’ll catch up,” he said, and though he’d been quiet for most of the argument, he took my hand again.
Aphrodite stormed out of the room, and as soon as the door clicked behind her, a dam broke inside me. All of the frustration and anger and despair I’d swallowed since the day I’d married Hades flooded out, and I burst into tears.
After a moment’s hesitation, Hermes pulled me into an awkward hug, and I buried my face in his chest. It wasn’t fair. Aphrodite thought she had it all figured out, but she wasn’t stuck down here. She could leave whenever she wanted, and she had a husband she loved as much as he loved her. Her arranged marriage had worked.
But mine was failing. I’d tried everything—forcing myself to love Hades, letting myself grow into it, and everything in between. Nothing was working, and I was never going to have the chance to live the life I wanted.
And of course it was Zeus’s fault. Everything was. I’d never been ashamed to be his daughter before, but now, knowing what he’d been willing to do in order to protect his own interests, to keep Hera as caged as I was—
“Hey,” said Hermes. “You’re all right. Everything will be okay.”
But no matter how many times he repeated it, he was wrong, and neither of us could change a thing. “This can’t be my eternity, Hermes.”
“It won’t be. I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure it isn’t.”
I held him tighter, my shoulders shaking with sobs. I wasn’t supposed to break down like this. Mother had raised me better—she’d raised me to adapt, to accept that not everything would go my way, but I couldn’t be that girl right now. Somewhere in the middle of that bitterness and pain, I’d given up on her, and now the only person I could be was me.
At last I managed to stop crying, and he kissed the top of my head. “You’re my best friend,” he said. “You matter to me. You matter to all of us, even if it doesn’t feel that way. Don’t forget that, all right?”
I nodded. Even when everything else was falling to pieces, Hermes would be there. I was sure of it.
Once he left, I took a shaky breath and righted myself, gazing out across the cavern. The River Styx flowed through the stone, carving a path older than all of us. What would it be like to be on the other side? To live knowing there would be an end someday? Mortals didn’t all know about the Underworld, and those who did only suspected, really. They believed, but they’d never been down here, and once they died, they never left to tell their family and friends about it. What would it be like to face that inevitable unknown?
In a way, I envied them. No matter how terrible their lives were, they would have a chance to escape it in the end. I wouldn’t.
Closing my eyes, I let my mind drift. I couldn’t stomach going back to the happy couple in the woods, so instead I focused on someone I wanted to see—Hermes. I slipped into a vision, viewing the present as it was happening, and my heart skipped a beat. Hermes stood in the throne room, empty except for Hades, and he stared my so-called husband straight in the eye.
“If you don’t let her go, she’s going to wither. You know that. You see it every day. So why delay the inevitable?”
Hades frowned. “You speak as if you know exactly what is happening.”
“I know you love her so much that you’re in agony,” said Hermes. “I know she doesn’t love you, but she’s trying to force herself to anyway because she knows how much it’s hurting you. I know you’re doing everything you possibly can to make her happy, and I know despite that, she feels trapped down here. And I suspect that you feel caged, too.”
I held my breath, wavering between anger and relief. At least someone was finally saying everything Hades needed to hear, but it should’ve come from me. Not Hermes. I owed Hades that much.
But I couldn’t interact with the present; all I could do was watch, and though it occurred to me that I could end this vision and join them, I was too much of a coward to do so. This way, Hades could make a decision without my interference. Or at least, that’s what I wanted to believe.
“And what would you have me do?” said Hades quietly. “Abandon her? It may be difficult for both of us, but given time—”
“You’ve both had plenty of time,” said Hermes.
“One cannot expect change to happen quickly. It may take centuries, eons—”
“You’d do that to her?” said Hermes. “You’d trap her down here for that long, knowing how miserable she is?”
Hades hesitated. “It is none of your concern.”
“When my best friend feels like she’s being held hostage, it is damn well my concern,” he snapped. I winced, and so did Hades. Wrong choice of words for sure, but in a way, it was the truth. Except now I knew that it wasn’t Hades holding the key.
“Leave,” he said in a low voice that by itself wasn’t much, but combined with the thrum of power that filled the throne room, it was deadly. Hermes opened his mouth as if he was going to protest, but at the last minute, he closed it again and turned on his heel.
When the door slammed shut, Hades closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. Whether to calm himself or work up enough courage to talk himself into something, I couldn’t tell, but after three heartbeats, he disappeared.
Oh, hell. No doubt where he’d gone. I pulled myself back into the observatory just in time to see Hades arrive beside the armchair. So much for privacy.
“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said, a hint of a break in his voice. Whatever he was thinking, he was struggling with it.
“You didn’t,” I said, straightening. “I was just—you know. Watching.”
“Anyone in particular?” he said, and I shook my head. No need to let him know I’d heard everything.
He stood there awkwardly for a long moment, his hands folded in front of him, and together we stared out the window. At last, when I was certain he wouldn’t say anything at all, he cleared his throat.
“Are you happy?”
I blinked. He really didn’t know? “No. Not because of you,” I added hastily. “But—it’s this place. It’s suffocating.” Whether my hatred for the Underworld had become nothing more than an excuse or if it really was the root of my unyielding bitterness, I didn’t know. And I didn’t particularly care either way. I’d already done everything I could think of to fix it.
“I see,” said Hades, and another moment passed before he said, “What would it take to make you so?”
I hesitated. A thousand thoughts came to mind, each more ridiculous than the last, but there was only one thing I really wanted. “I want a choice,” I said. “I want the chance to choose this life for myself.”
“And how would I be able to give that to you?”
“I—” I paused. If I lied now, I might never have another chance like this. We might never have another chance like this, and lying would only bring more pain in the long run. “Freedom. Let me go. Give me a divorce.”
Agony I hadn’t expected flashed across his face. Whatever I was to him, it was more than I’d realized. Much, much more. That wasn’t the pain of a man losing his pride. That was the pain of a man losing everything he loved.
“I cannot do that,” he said, his words little more tha
n a whisper. “If it were in my power, I would give you everything you desired, including a divorce. But the bonds that tie you to the Underworld as its queen are stronger than even I am.”
Any and all hope drained from me, leaving me hollow and numb. Whether it was true or not, of course he would hide behind my vow to the Underworld. If I’d been capable of shedding more tears, I would have, but as it was, I was completely empty.
So this was it. This was my life from here on out—a slave not only to a husband I didn’t love, but to a realm I hated with every breath in my body. Everyone would have a happy ending except me.
And Hades, I realized, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. His fate was tied with mine, and he looked almost gray in the low candlelight. This wasn’t just my life we were talking about. It was his, as well.
He’d known what he was getting into when he’d agreed to marry me, though. He knew this was a possibility, that I would never love him. Or maybe it’d never occurred to him. Either way, he’d made his choice; he’d had one to make in the first place. I hadn’t.
I started to stand. I wanted to be anywhere but there—even his bedroom would’ve been better than this, as long as he wasn’t there, too. But as soon as I straightened, he turned to me, his eyes glistening in the firelight.
“What if…” He swallowed. I’d never seen him at a loss like this before, and it broke every good thing inside me. “What if I were to give you a choice?”
I folded my arms over my chest, hugging myself. “You just said you couldn’t.”
“I cannot allow you to leave permanently,” he agreed slowly, his focus fixed on something over my shoulder. “But if you were to return and help me rule on a regular basis…”
My heart began to pound. “What do you mean?”
At last he looked at me, and his silver eyes, so crowded with everything he couldn’t say, sent a shiver down my spine. “If I were to give you half of every year to do with as you will…would that make you happy?”
Half a year. Half of the rest of my life. Was he serious? I watched him closely for any signs it was an empty offer, but everything about him was sincere. “Yes,” I said, a thread of hope weaving its way through me. Freedom. Real freedom, even if it was only temporary. “That would make me happy.”
He nodded once, twice, three times, as if trying to convince himself. “Then—that is what I will do. From sunrise on the spring equinox to sunrise on the autumnal equinox, you may spend your time wherever you would like. In Olympus, on the surface, even—” He cleared his throat. “Even down here, if you wish.”
We both knew that wouldn’t happen, but I took his hand anyway. “Thank you,” I whispered. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”
I couldn’t let myself believe it, not yet, not until I felt the sunshine on my skin and the wind in my hair, but the crushing look of loss on his face all but confirmed his offer was real. “You do not have to,” he said. “Your happiness is all the thanks I need, and it is all I ask in return. Just come back to me.”
Against my better judgment, knowing it might only hurt him more, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. It was the most intimate contact we’d had since our wedding night. “I will. Thank you.”
Rather than blush or give me a boyish smile, as Hermes might’ve done, Hades let go of my hand and stepped back. Without saying a word, he gave me one more tight nod, and the next moment, he was gone.
I sank back into my chair, elation and dread tumbling around inside me. Finally I would have what I wanted—a chance to live my own life, even if it was really only a half life. But at the same time, the pain on Hades’s face, the thought of what Mother would say—
No. I was done worrying about what everyone else wanted for me. This was my life, my world, my future, not theirs. And now that I had a second chance, I wasn’t about to give it up again. Not for anyone.
Part Two
True to his word, Hades brought me to the surface on the spring equinox. He’d said little all morning, and as we arrived in a cool meadow, he was silent. As soon as we were on steady ground, he dropped my hand, and I hesitated.
“Thanks,” I said at last, and I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’ll see you soon.”
He nodded once, and before I could say another word, he disappeared. I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of nature even as a fist tightened around my heart. But I would come back to him eventually, much happier than I had been, and in the meantime, I could do what I wanted. We both lost, yes, but we both won, as well.
“Persephone?” Mother’s voice cut through the dewy morning air, and I wasted no time. One moment I stood alone in the middle of the meadow, and the next I barreled straight into her open arms. It didn’t matter that this was only temporary. Being here with her made me soar.
“I missed you,” I mumbled into her chest, and she wrapped her arms around me in a secure embrace.
“As I missed you,” she said, but there was a hint of something I hadn’t expected in her voice—disappointment.
I clenched my jaw. If what Aphrodite had said was true and Mother and Zeus had married me off to Hades as some sort of twisted revenge on Hera, then she had no right to be disappointed. None at all.
But even that momentary spark of anger couldn’t ruin the morning, and I slipped out of her hug and took her hand. We had two entire seasons to talk. Right now, I was going to relish my freedom and forget every awful feeling that had built up inside me in the Underworld. I wasn’t going to waste this, not for anything.
“Come, my darling,” she said, leading me into the forest. “Let’s go home.”
* * *
Home turned out to be a small cottage on the edge of a clearing deep in the woods. By the time we reached it, I had no idea where we’d gone or how we’d gotten there, but I didn’t care. As long as it wasn’t the Underworld, I would follow her anywhere.
It was small, one room divided into a cooking area, a sleeping area and a place to sit. Flowers and herbs hung from the rafters, creating a dizzying scent, and everything was handcrafted, as if she’d hired mortals to build it for her.
Zeus would’ve hated it. I loved it instantly.
We settled in, but the roof over my head reminded me of my constant claustrophobia in the Underworld, so soon enough we moved outside. Together we tended the tidy garden, and sometime in midafternoon, I worked up the courage to ask the question that had haunted me ever since Aphrodite had mentioned it.
“Did you marry me off to Hades because of Hera?”
Mother looked at me, her eyes wide, and her mouth formed a small circle. Dirt streaked across her face, and in her hands she cupped the beginnings of an orchid encased in earth. “What?”
My cheeks burned, but it was too late to back down now. “Someone told me that you made me marry Hades because Zeus wanted to make sure he wouldn’t have an affair with Hera.”
She said nothing as she gently set the flower in its new home. Once it was properly in place, she sat back on her heels and wiped her hands. “Who told you that?”
I shook my head. I may have envied Aphrodite to the point that it actually hurt, but I wasn’t about to betray her trust. “A reliable source.”
“Ah, yes. The world seems to be full of those.” She sighed. “It’s no small wonder that Hera isn’t happy about your marriage. You know how she feels about Zeus’s illegitimate children. I don’t blame her in the slightest, and a very large part of me feels a great dea
l of shame for betraying her in such a way. But I can’t regret it, not when the result was you.”
She set her hand over mine, and while I didn’t pull away, I didn’t take hers, either. “You’re avoiding the question.”
Mother pursed her lips. “I don’t know what to tell you, my darling. Only that I arranged your marriage because Hades is a wonderful man, and I could think of no one who could possibly love you more.”
“So Zeus had nothing to do with it?” I said. She hesitated.
“Zeus was the one to suggest him, certainly, but—”
“Is Hera in love with Hades?”
She blinked. “What makes you say that?”
“Is she?”
Mother rubbed her cheek, causing the streak of dirt to spread. “We all love Hades very much. Perhaps it is because he is the best of us all, or perhaps distance has something to do with it. We know each other so intimately in Olympus, but Hades is removed from us, and it is easy to forget his flaws. As far as I know, however, while Hera loves Hades as a brother, she has no interest in him as a lover. She is faithful to Zeus, as much as that pains her.”
That was sort of an answer, at least. A half answer, but an answer nonetheless. “So Zeus didn’t suggest I marry Hades simply because he wanted to make sure Hera was kept on a tight leash?”
Mother laughed, but there was something oddly humorless about it. “Oh, sweetheart. Hera does only what she wants. If she wanted Hades as a lover, she would have him, but she is far too devoted to her duties to ever betray the council that way. Zeus and I discussed all of our options, and in the end, we thought Hades would be the best match for you.”
“And Hades? What did he think?”
“He was intrigued,” she said. “He needed help with his duties, with the way the world is expanding, and he agreed so long as you were willing.”
Willing. Funny how my definition seemed so different from my parents’. At least now I knew that if Hades had been aware of my hesitations, he would’ve never gone through with our marriage. That was a small comfort. “Did it never occur to you that I might want to decide on my own?”