Persephone
Chapter twenty-eight
For once, nothing woke me but my body simply waking.
No chores, no overwhelming list of duties forced my eyes open.
Mother wasn’t in shambles worrying about the harvest. It was quiet.
Despite the somber surroundings, it was peaceful.
Calm. My body rested. I stretched, my hands gliding over the headboard—
The headboard?
I jolted upright, finding myself tucked into the bed.
My seat by the window was long vacated if the lighting outside were anything to go by.
The sunlight—if you could call it that—was entirely different here.
With the ever-present clouds that cloaked the sky and choked out the light, what light that filtered down was dim and grey, but it was brighter than I’d remembered, leading me to believe I’d slept through the night.
But I had no recollection of getting into bed.
My stomach twisted. I knew exactly who had carried me to the bed.
Before I could separate through the spike of confusion and the knot of unease in my gut, the candelabra above hissed to life. Flame slithered upward, and with it, Hecate emerged from the gathered shadows like darkness and magic itself decided it needed a corporeal form.
“Good. You’re awake,” Hecate said by way of greeting, startling me. She filled the room like a tide, quiet, unmistakable, and dangerous. Her hair was black, depthless, like the void between realms where nothing existed, absorbing all light into it, floating on a breeze of her own magic.
“How did I get to the bed?” I probed, hoping she’d tell me she moved me. Anything other than—
“You fell asleep in a rather awkward position. By the window's ledge. He…” Hecate’s golden eyes flicked from the window to the bed as she chose the correct word, “corrected it.”
There was no need to ask who she meant. I bristled, the idea of a male’s hands on me while I wasn’t conscious reminded me of the Morningstar. Of his wretched touch.
On some level, I knew Hades wasn’t like that. His anger that day in Olympus, his outrage on my behalf, was proof of that, but it didn’t do anything to dampen the heat of my indignation. “I hope he doesn’t do that again.”
“You’re so scandalized by an act of kindness?
” Hecate’s eyebrow raised in a silent judgement.
“He acted out of concern, not lust.” My abruptness did not faze Hecate.
Her lips twisted into a dry smile, “It was very dignified, like how a mortal would carry a stray kitten they say they care nothing about.” I didn’t know what set me off more, being compared to a stray kitten or the fact that my anger softened slightly beneath the weight of the caveats.
“That doesn’t make me feel better,” I grumbled more to myself than to Hecate.
“I’m sure it doesn’t.” Hecate turned within the room, as if hunting for something. “I tell you this because I don’t want you to misunderstand his intentions: Hades is an overprotective mother hen disguised as a nightmare.”
Hecate found what she was searching for, my closet. A crook of her finger opened the doors, silent and smooth, and my breath caught in my throat.
Every type of gown, tunic, cloak, and wrap hung there in every color, though how he knew my favorite color was green, I didn’t know.
I eyed every item, including a shimmering dark emerald dress that resembled a midnight rainfall through a forest canopy.
Each fabric glowed against the onyx color wood.
“I took the liberty of the selections, though Hades did say you liked the color green,” Hecate said casually as I fingered the rich fabrics with appreciation. Some were heavier, to drown out the lingering chill. “We both hope you like them.”
“How did he know I liked green?”
Hecate shrugged. “He listens. He observes.”
I wore green that night in Olympus. It must have been a guess.
The sentiment needled at the anger around my heart, softening it further, much against my wishes.
“How thoughtful,” I said more to myself than her.
Reminding myself that I had been abducted, I turned to Hecate with a sharpness. “I’m still angry.”
“That’s understandable.” Hecate nodded, almost businesslike.
“Your emotions aren’t an inconvenience. Feel them.
” Her statement disarmed me more than anything else, possibly in my entire existence.
Mother had always told me to keep a wrap on my emotions, that emotions were the key to dissent.
That emotions complicate your judgment, and even your magic.
Hecate was one of the most powerful beings in existence, and her stance was not what I anticipated.
She continued, ignoring my reverie, “After you bathe, and I insist you do, I will give you a tour of House Hades. The god of the dead is occupied in council and won’t be joining us. ”
The memories of yesterday barreled into me so hard my breath caught.
“Have you any more news of my parents?” It wasn’t quite a demand, more of a shout, almost afraid. That she’d not know, or not share. Or worse, that the news she’d share might break me.
“I see the spell wore off,” Hecate muttered under her breath as she looked around. At my concerned glance, she elaborated, “It was to keep them from your dreams, so you’d actually rest.” She bent to pick something up as I was about to scream at her audacity. “Here.”
On the bedside table, looking completely inconspicuous, was a handheld mirror. Gold and ornate beneath layer of tarnish, it somehow stood out and went with the room so perfectly I hadn’t even noticed it there.
“It’s a glimpse glass.” Hecate’s gentle hesitation made me pause with my hand hovering over the mirror. “It can show you glimpses of loved ones on the mortal plain you care deeply for. Hades has used it for some shades to show that their loved ones are okay after their passing.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” It wasn’t a question, but Hecate answered all the same. Her directness, her bluntness, I was beginning to appreciate in its own way.
“It’s not a party trick, and the fact that Hades brought it for you is a surprise,” she admitted, talking a step towards me. “It’s likely why he came to your room last night, to give you this.”
When he found me asleep and didn’t think that I’d want to wake for this?
Another bone I’d pick with him when I saw that cretin next.
“How does it work? Can I see my mother? Zeus? Please, I must know if they’re okay,” I begged Hecate.
The ancient goddess drew a dagger from her belt, making me step back.
“You don’t need to fear me, spring goddess.
I’m tasked with your protection, not your harm, unless it becomes necessary.
” The goddess of magic eyed me with exasperation.
“Hold out your finger.” I did, biting my lip hard to keep from gasping when Hecate pricked the end of my middle finger where a fat drop of blood welled there.
She wasted no time, smearing the rim of the looking glass with crimson.
“Repeat after me: show me as the Fates allow, invoked by bond, by truth, and shadow’s vow. ”
The air thrummed as I whispered the words, coming alive with a dark sort of tension that had me rolling my shoulder uncomfortably, like a beautiful watercolor painting smeared with black ink.
“Whisper your mother’s name,” came Hecate’s final instruction, her voice fading, as if far away.
“Demeter.”
The tension in the room didn’t move. Nothing happened, save from the thrashing of my heartbeat, the only sound that reached my ears.
“Hecate,” my whisper was dryer than my throat, “Will the mirror not show me my mother because she’s dead? Did the Morningstar kill her?”
Hecate shook her head.
“No, girl.” Her hand caught my shoulders just as the world fell away under the weight of grief. She held it at bay, but only just. “Calm yourself. It’s your magic. It must not work here in the Underworld, a place of death. Life cannot rise in a place such as this.”
She at least sounded surprised.
“My magic?” I tried the simplest spell, conjuring a budding bloom, something I could do since before I could remember. The tiniest thread of magic you tease open ever so gently to form a flower—
—nothing happened. My magic lifted to the surface, ready and willing, but it would not leave my fingertips.
“I have no magic?” I had never in my life felt more insignificant. I was a living girl in the bowels of the Underworld without even my magic to protect me. I was completely, utterly at the mercy of the realm.
And of Hades.
I seethed.
“No matter.” Hecate touched the mirror, making a fog swirl in the looking glass, drawing my anxiety back up. “Say her name once more.”
“Show me Demeter,” I ordered the mirror, holding it a little too tightly.
The fog turned bright, so bright I forced my eyes to look away, but at least it was showing me something.
“Persephone,” Hecate prodded, “look.”
I opened my eyes only to choke on a sob.
Mother was arguing with Zeus. Bloodied, with a giant gash that was knitting itself together over her forehead.
She was covered in grime—a sludge of blood, ash, and Fates only knew what else.
Her movements were fluid enough as she paced, the storm gathering in her eyes with a fury reminiscent of the last hour of my day in Olympus.
Zeus was slow to move, but was arguing back to her, his eyes steely and bright, a fierce combination unique to the King of the Gods.
Both moved well enough, had rosiness in their cheeks, and plenty of fight in them. I nearly melted with relief.
“Do you feel better?” Hecate asked, diffusing the tension in the room a fraction. But I couldn’t take my eyes away from the mirror, even as tears blurred my vision. Hades told me yesterday they were alive, but seeing it for myself…
They’re alive.
They’re alive.
They’re alive!