Chapter Six Persephone
Chapter six
Persephone
“Hades,” I stammered.
“Ah, I see my reputation precedes me.” His lips twitched, repressing a grin.
“If you would remove your dagger, I would be appreciative. Or don’t, and I could find a way to show some appreciation for that too.
” I willed the dagger gone, and gone it was into the aether, but his hand didn’t drop my wrist. I narrowed my eyes and shifted my weight, a silent urge.
One he didn’t heed. “What’s the sweet, unassuming daughter of Zeus doing out here all alone? ”
“Enjoying a break from the party before you decided to crash,” I said coolly, in a voice Mother would definitely approve of. “The shadows were a nice touch. You really had me going there.”
He cocked his head. “What shadows?”
“You are the only one here. And now you claim that you weren’t trying to scare me?” But the confusion on his face rattled my confidence. How many gods could wield the shadows? It had to be him.
“I do claim that.” His voice was steady.
Certain. “I was walking out here when I saw you looking concerned. You wrenched a dagger at me—unsolicited, I might add.” Fear coated my tongue, bitter and sickening.
I watched him, eyes narrowing on his, searching.
There was no lie in his eyes. No telltale hitch of breath, no rapid eye movement.
There was an easy, self-assured stillness to him.
His gaze held mine steady, like he was waiting for me to realize that on my own.
“You don’t need to fear me, little shadow. I mean you no harm.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” I pressed.
“Likely because either you or your mother have trust issues,” he chortled.
“Well, someone tried to scare me.” My voice never dropped its accusing tone. “And you’re the only one here.”
“That you can see.” His narrowed eyes scanned the courtyard around us.
“Whoever it was is gone. Why don’t I walk you back to the party?
Or if you’d like a few minutes alone in the garden, I’d be happy to make sure nobody bothers you until you’re ready.
I understand you have an affinity for all that’s green. ”
He was so sincere. The complete opposite of what my mother had told me my entire life. Where was the wrathful, angry, violent god my mother had described?
Or was I looking that god in the face and too na?ve to see the monster looking back at me?
“I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want those shadows to come back.” My admission was tiny and full of nerves.
“To the garden then?” He held his arm out for me, so gentlemanly, too much so to resemble the picture Mother had painted. At every turn, I was surprised as he dispelled what I’d been told. I was even more surprised when I timidly took his arm.
“I would really like to see the gardens. When I need a moment, I find myself at peace in them.”
He nodded, understanding. “I take it you feel a bit overwhelmed by Olympus?”
“Is it that obvious?” I offered him a contrite smile. “It’s just so much… more than the mortal realm. I have so many eyes on me, I know I’m the new thing everyone is curious about.”
“But the weight of all those gazes is crushing,” Hades said with another nod.
My heart swelled, but the excitement of his understanding paled beneath the weight of the garden’s magnificence.
“Here we are. And if you want to do a little redecorating to take some of the edge off, I won’t tell anyone. ”
He said that as if the gardens weren’t already the most spectacular thing I’d ever seen.
Ancient pillars wreathed in purple brambles formed a perimeter with perfectly pruned evergreens.
A shimmering pond reflected the rising moon in its triumph over sunset, rimmed by rows of flowers of all colors.
It reeked of my mother. The careful control of every leaf, every petal in orderly rows.
Not a single bloom out of place. Like my mother’s work on my hair earlier, it was overly stylized perfection.
“Oh,” I laughed contritely, “I fear my gardening is a bit more chaotic than what I’m sure Olympus is used to. My mother is so much better. Everything is tidy, organized—” He raised his hand, cutting off my objections.
“Gardens are art. I personally love a little chaos in my art.” He took a step back, giving me room and a small smirk. “So, show me a little chaos.”
My heart fluttered, tripping over my ribs before sprinting in my chest as I called my magic to me for a second time, not to attack, but to grow.
And chaos reigned supreme.
I don’t remember the last time I exploded.
When my magic poured from me and I let it.
Fresh gardenia blooms over here, roses of all colors over there.
In a spot where neat, organized rows of white flowers ruled supreme, I set to work breaking the pristine flawlessness of the garden by interspersing flowers of all types in hues of blue and purple, the prettiest accent to the white, until they were spilling artfully over the pavers.
I snaked black roses up the white trellises, entwining them until the white of the trellis was indistinguishable under the disarray of beautiful petals, soft and black.
Hades watched with great interest, pointing out occasional bits of ground that were yet bare for me to cover.
When a sweat had broken out on my brow, when every surface had been touched in magic, when the ground beneath me was swathed in petals, a fun albeit strange byproduct of my intense magic usage, did I finally stop and will my magic away.
It contentedly walked the halls of my soul, happy to have run wild for the first time in recent memory.
Mother always advised restraint, but the buzzing in my veins had me questioning that, questioning her, so much more than usual.
“That was a joy to behold.” Hades’s voice was every bit as soft as the petals I grew, snaring my attention. “It looks so much better than it did. And you thought your brand of chaos would be too much.”
I smiled at him, wide and carefree. “Thank you for this, Hades. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I tried to stab you earlier.”
He chuckled, the sound like rich velvet.
“There is nothing to forgive, Persephone. A little venom never hurt anyone worthwhile too greatly.” He winked, causing a flush to take over my face again. “We should head back, if you’re ready. You’ll have been missed.”
I had somehow forgotten about the party.
I’d been gone for ages! Mother was going to have my head.
I could hear her questions now, especially when I walked in escorted by Hades.
Dread and anticipation warred in my gut at the thought.
I’m an adult, I reminded myself. I don’t need her approval for every little thing I do.
I’m allowed to enjoy myself. She warned me of Hades, and I was watching him, keenly assessing for any signs of trickery, but he’d done nothing but treat me kindly.
“I’m ready.” I smiled as the god of the Underworld offered his arm once more.