Chapter 3 Persephone #2
I do not know what I expected. Torn bedding, perhaps? Scratches on the floor? There wouldn’t be any. I did not fight. I did not know anyone had come to retrieve me. It became very dark and very cold, and I sank into it like a person might sink into a frigid lake.
My mother closes the doors behind us and comes to me, taking my face in her small hands. They’re cold to the touch at first, but quickly warm. Her eyes are filled with worry.
I’m filled with worry, too. I put my hands over hers and gaze into her beautiful green eyes. The things Hades said and the things I have witnessed come together.
“Mother,” I say softly. “Did you go to the mortal realm?” It’s almost a whisper. I don’t want it to be true.
Her eyes narrow, and tears glisten in the corners. Again her bottom lip wavers. They are angry tears. Her anger does not look like my father’s.
“You were gone.” Her voice nearly cracks under the emotion. “You had been taken from me, and I could not find you.” She swallows thickly. “Worst of all, they knew where you were and didn’t tell me. I know it in my heart.” Her words hit with a vengeance.
“Who—” I try to start but she hushes me. Who could have known where I was? I don’t understand what she’s thinking.
“I will not let that go unpunished,” my mother continues. “The way I have suffered must be repaid, and it has not been. The realms owe me. They owe you. They will feel it all. Every bit of agony I felt.”
“Mother.” I breathe, pressing my hands more firmly into hers.
I will not pull away from her. I will not.
She is my mother, and I love her, and I feel her pain.
I feel the tears in her eyes as if they are my own.
But the things she has done—that Hades told me she did but I refused to believe—these things are unfathomable. “This is not you.”
“It is me,” she argues, a tear slipping out of her eye and dripping down her cheek. Her face is pink. Her upset is palpable, and I understand it. That may be the worst part. I understand, because I feel it as well, how she missed me. I was desperate for her, too. “Grief is for us all.”
“Destruction is not. Mother, you must see that. It is not the fault of the mortals—”
“It is not as if Hades would care about what I felt. What his selfishness caused. He only cares about his realm. He could never have anticipated how much I care for my daughter.” Her eyes go soft, and her lips tremble. “Oh, Persephone.”
My eyes search hers for what she knows. Does she know he loves me? Does she know I love him as well? My words refuse to leave my lips, caught in my throat. What will she do if I tell her how I’ve fallen for the god of the Underworld.
“I will not say a word against your anger,” I murmur, looking into her eyes.
For the first time on Olympus, I feel…I must stand on my own.
I know what I believe, and I know it is wrong to punish mortals for the actions of gods.
It has been done before—many times—but that does not mean it is right.
This is not my mother. She doesn’t wish for suffering.
“But you have heard their prayers. You have been there for mortals. Helped them with their harvest. Gave them comfort. They are your people. What happened was not their fault.”
My mother lets out a long exhale and wipes away a few more tears with the sleeve of her gown.
“You have always been like this, haven’t you?” With a little laugh, she brings her hand to my face. “You have never loved your shadow side.”
“My shadow side—”
“But I have been forced to make peace with mine,” she says over me. “It is not my fault, either, Persephone. Having you taken to the Underworld”—her hands shake—“that would never be my doing. Never.”
That sends another wave of fear through my body. No—of course she would not have allowed me to be taken to the Underworld.
And if I had never gone…
Would I have learned about magic from someone like Beatrice? Would I have spent my days wandering the paths of the realm, greeting others without thoughts of myself?
Would I know what it is to sit next to Hades at court and look upon the souls who had passed into his realm? To show mercy in ways he cannot.
No. Of course I would not have. And something inside me says I needed those experiences. I needed them more than I ever could have known. Again my fingers twitch with the need for magic and power to come to life. But I grip my hands together, not wanting to test it here.
I don’t know what to say to my mother. Her expression is still filled with agony. Her hand refuses to let me go. Perhaps she needs only time to see reason.
“I missed you,” I say. “I missed you so much. I know this is not the only side of you. Please…I am not harmed. I am not ill. I am… Mother, I am doing very well.”
Her eyes flicker all over my face, and a crease appears in her forehead. “Are you?” Pain is etched into her expression. Concern riddled in her gaze.
“Yes! I promise! I give you my word. I am well. I am—” There are no words to describe what Hades has done for me. Not in terms my mother will understand. “I am well,” I say again, stepping closer. “Please know that I am well. There is nothing to avenge.”
My mother smiles, her eyes still shining with tears. She makes a sound that is not really agreement. My mother still thinks there is something to avenge.
She might even think I am lying to her. Hiding some pain from her.
My mother takes a half-step back and smooths down my hair again. She curls a lock gently around her finger and hooks it behind my ear, then squeezes my hands, dropping them only after a long moment.
“Come with me, Persephone. Let me hold you. I have missed you so much.”
With my hands in hers, I allow us this moment, and I try to silence the memory of the screams of thousands of souls tortured in the Underworld at the hands of my mother.