Goddess of the Underworld Read online

  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?”

  “Darling.” She squeezed my hand. I didn’t squeeze back. “Yes, it occurred to me. Many, many times. But I was so certain you would love Hades as much as we all do, and he was in desperate need of help. I can’t tell you how deeply sorry I am that your marriage has caused both of you so much pain, but I haven’t given up hope yet. None of us have. And perhaps this time away will do you both some good.”

  I was silent. If that was the reason she’d agreed to this summer—because she saw it as a way to convince me a marriage with Hades wasn’t so bad after all—then I had nothing more to say. I would be his queen for eternity; if Hades couldn’t sever that tie, then there was nothing anyone could do. But this half year was mine to live as I wanted, not to pine over a husband I didn’t love or a realm I hated.

  I loved Mother. I loved our family. But the more I opened my eyes to the world around me, the more I began to realize that she and I wanted very different things for my life. And I was no longer afraid to tell her no.

  * * *

  Hermes came to visit that night, long after the sun had set. Mother answered the knock on the door, but when she invited him in, the suspicion behind her smile made me nervous. It wasn’t the kind of smile she gave guests—it was the kind she gave Hera when they were forced to play nice. I intercepted them, looping my arm in Hermes’s. “Why don’t we go for a walk?” I said, and he nodded.

  “That’s what I was going to suggest, actually.”

  I forced a grin. “Perfect. We’ll be back soon, Mother.”

  Without giving her a chance to protest, I led Hermes out of the cottage and through the garden. As soon as we ducked into the forest and out of Mother’s line of sight, I exhaled.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “She’s been on edge.”

  “Don’t apologize.” Hermes stepped over a fallen tree and offered me a hand. I didn’t need his help, but I took it anyway. “She’s rooting for you and Hades to work out. Everyone is.”

  “I’m not so sure it will,” I admitted.

  “Maybe it will, maybe it won’t,” he said. “But right now you’re not going to think about him at all, because I have a surprise for you.”

  I brightened. Hades brought me surprises practically every other day, but the thrill of anticipation ran through me anyway. It meant more somehow, coming from Hermes. “What kind of surprise?”

  “That’s a secret,” he said with a grin. “It does come with a price, though—you have to trust me and close your eyes when I say so.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You expect me to let you lead me through an unfamiliar forest in the middle of the night?”

  “And I expect you not to peek, either.”

  I sighed dramatically. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him—I did, and a few falls wouldn’t exactly hurt either of us—but what little control I had lately was precious to me. And he must’ve known that. “Oh, fine,” I said. “Just don’t get us lost.”

  “Me, get us lost?” He snorted. “I’m more likely to get us killed.”

  “And that’s supposed to boost my confidence in you how?” I said with a grin. I hadn’t felt this good in ages.

  At last, as we approached a clearing, Hermes stopped. “Close your eyes,” he said, and I obeyed, my heart fluttering. He may not have had access to the riches Hades did, but that made this all the better.

  Step by step, he led me through the remaining trees, artfully avoiding every stone and root. The air changed once we reached the meadow, cooler now that the forest canopy wasn’t above us. “Can I open them now?”

  “Almost,” he said. “Just two more steps and…now.”

  I opened my eyes and gasped. At our feet was a midnight picnic, with fruits and meats and nectar, but that wasn’t the part that took my breath away. Above us, the night sky twinkled with countless stars, somehow brighter and more stunning than I remembered. Away from the light of dusk, they glittered, and I sank to the ground beside the picnic. I’d never seen anything more beautiful in my life.

  “It’s incredible,” I whispered. “You’ve no idea how much I’ve missed this.”

  “I figured you might like it,” said Hermes, and he sat down beside me. “Zeus likes to create fables to go along with them, you know. Most of them are based on us. Like that cluster right there—the Pleiades. One of the stars is called Maia, after my mother.”

  “Do I have one yet?” I said, and he chuckled.

  “Not that I know of, but I’ll make sure to get right on that.”

  I grinned, but that soon faded into a wistful smile. “No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”

  “What, show you the stars?” he said, and he offered me a pomegranate. My favorite fruit, and the kind Hades brought me for breakfast every day. I shook my head. Not tonight. Not while I was on the surface. I didn’t want that reminder.

  “Do something nice for me that didn’t have strings attached,” I said.

  He shrugged, but even in the darkness, I could see his ears turn pink. “It’s just a picnic.”

  It wasn’t, though. All of Hades’s gestures, all of his gifts, they weren’t things I wanted. They were things he’d hoped I would like, but I hadn’t needed any of them. This, however—the stars, the open sky, the taste of freedom no matter how fleeting it was—this was what I’d been searching for.

  I lay in the grass, picnic forgotten for now as I stared up at the sky. Hermes lay beside me, and I groped around until I found his hand. “I heard what you said to Hades.”

  Silence. “You did?”

  “Yes.” Tearing my gaze from the stars, I looked at him. “Thank you. For sticking up for me, for saying what he needed to hear—”

  “Zeus wasn’t happy with me,” he admitted.

  “Zeus is never happy with anyone. He didn’t punish you, did he?”

  “Just a verbal thrashing in front of the council. It happens.”

  I brushed my thumb against the palm of his hand. “I know it isn’t much, but I would’ve never been this happy again if it wasn’t for you.”

  He met my gaze, a small smile playing on his lips. “That’s all the thanks I need.”

  I wasn’t sure who moved in first, or if we both got the same idea at the same time. I wasn’t sure it even mattered. One moment we lay there side by side, and the next he was kissing me, and I was kissing him, and the whole world seemed to go quiet.

  This wasn’t just lips against lips; this was warmth and comfort and safety and knowing he cared enough abo
ut me to risk his own neck. Not because he needed help ruling, not because I was promised to him, but because he saw me, flaws and all, and he cared anyway.

  I wrapped myself around him, wanting to be closer to someone for the first time in my life. This wasn’t like my wedding night; there was no pressure, no expectations, and I wanted this. I wanted him.

  He didn’t stop me, and I didn’t stop him. At last I understood what Aphrodite was always going on about and why Zeus tested Hera time and time again. This warmth, this comfort, this all-encompassing love—this was what I was meant to feel. Not hurt or guilt or chains. I kissed him deeper, needing to be as close to him as possible; and underneath those glittering stars, he set me free.

  As long as I had this, I always would be.

  * * *

  I returned to the cottage at dawn, my hair tangled and my step lighter than it’d been since I’d first entered the Underworld. Mother took one look at me, and her face fell.

  “Persephone. You didn’t.”

  I breezed past her. I’d cleaned up in a stream, of course, but I needed my comb. “Don’t worry about it, Mother.”

  “Of course I will. This is your marriage.” She followed me through the small cottage. “Sweetheart—”

  “Don’t.” I whirled around to face her, brandishing my comb like a sword. “I’m not with Hades right now. I haven’t been with him since we got married, and right now, I can do whatever I want. I’m supposed to do whatever makes me happy.”

  “Even if it destroys him?” she said, and I shook my head.

  “You don’t get it, Mother. He made this choice, and it isn’t my fault he loves me, all right? It isn’t my fault we can’t be happy together. I’ve tried, we’ve both tried, but it isn’t working.”

  She sat down on the edge of the bed, and I pulled the comb angrily through my hair. Leave it to her to ruin an otherwise perfect night. “Do you even intend to go back?” she said quietly.

  “Of course,” I snapped. “I won’t abandon him, but I’m not going to waste this chance, either. I finally get to be happy, Mother. Why aren’t you okay with that? Because it isn’t the happy ending you wanted for me?”

  “Because it isn’t a happy ending at all,” she said, as gentle as ever. “And as long as you continue down this path, you’ll never find it.”

  “And you think I will with Hades?”

  “Yes. Otherwise I would have never asked you to marry him.”

  “You didn’t ask me to marry him. You told me. And you were wrong, Mother—I’m sorry, I know it must break your heart, but you and Zeus were wrong. We aren’t happy. I’m not happy, and the more you try to pretend, the more it’s going to hurt all of us. So just let it go, all right?”

  I stormed into the cooking area, starting the fire with a wave of my hand. I wasn’t hungry, and we didn’t need to eat, but the ritual of cooking calmed me, and I hadn’t had the chance in a very long time. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Mother was supposed to understand, even if she didn’t like it. That’s what she always did: she understood. And there was nothing wrong with me and Hermes. He made me happy, and if she was so worried about it hurting Hades, then he would never have to know. I certainly had no intention of telling him.

  “Persephone.” She set her hand on my shoulder, and I shrugged it off. “We all make mistakes—”

  “This isn’t a mistake.”

  “Rarely does a mistake feel like one at the time,” she said. “All I’m asking is that you don’t jump headfirst into something you can’t stop. And by hurting Hades—”

  “I already hurt him. Every second I’m down there, miserable and alone and hating it, I hurt him. At least this way I can be happy, and we both get what we want.”

  “And how does he get what he wants?” said Mother.

  “By me not being so miserable, even if it’s just for a while.” I turned to face her. “Please, Mother. Just give me this. Let me be happy.”

  Her eyes locked on mine for the space of several heartbeats, and at last she sighed. “I cannot condone it, but I will not forbid it, either. If you insist on letting this happen, then I must also insist that when you return to the Underworld, you act as you should. You rule beside Hades without complaint, and you let this happiness bleed into your time down there, as well. Can you do that?”

  I nodded. If it meant I could spend the summer with Hermes, then I would. “Thank you.”

  She pressed her lips to my forehead. “I want you to be happy, too, my darling, but not at the expense of others. Just be careful. You’re playing a dangerous game.”

  “I know.” I let her hug me, resting my head on her shoulder as she ran her fingers through my hair. “But he makes me happy.”

  She sighed. “Then for your sake, I hope that is enough for us all.”

  * * *

  That summer was the best of my life. Mother and I spent every day together, sometimes with Hermes, sometimes without; but he and I spent every night together, as well. We explored the forest, swam in the cool lakes, and never once did I feel an ounce of guilt about betraying Hades. How could I, when he was the one who wanted me to be happy?

  But it couldn’t last forever, and finally the autumnal equinox arrived. Hermes and I both agreed we would halt our affair while I was with Hades, though of course I would see him often in the Underworld as a friend. The prospect of getting to spend time with Hermes no matter what realm I was in made giving up the surface a little easier to bear.

  Mother led me to the clearing where Hades had dropped me off the spring before, and he was there waiting for us, his hair shining in the morning light. He really was beautiful, in a way Hermes would never be, but Mother had been wrong. My time away hadn’t made me any fonder of him, and the moment our eyes met, that unyielding bitterness returned. There was something new on my side now though—contentment, and not the sort I had to fake. We might never be able to break down the wall between us, but at least we could both accept our fate.

  “Persephone,” he said quietly, offering me his arm. I kissed Mother goodbye and took it. “You look well.”

  “I feel well,” I said, and I did. Even the dark power that surrounded him couldn’t spoil my good mood. I felt lighter somehow, and Hades must have sensed it, because he gave me a small smile.

  “I am glad.”

  The trip into the Underworld wasn’t so bad this time, and the rock that surrounded us didn’t feel quite so heavy now that I knew it wasn’t permanent. Half a year, that was it; then I would be free to be with Hermes again. I could do that.

  I expected the usual round of duties when we returned to his palace, but instead he stopped me in the antechamber that led into the throne room. For a moment he said nothing as he stared at the floor, his face stony. I frowned. What was going on?

  “You are happy, yes?” he said. “With…”

  My entire body went cold. Hermes. He knew. Had Hades been spying on me?

  No, he wouldn’t. He may have been many things, but a sneak wasn’t one of them. Mother had told him—she must have. Why? To hurt him? To make me feel guilty? To make sure I couldn’t play him like a fool?

  But I didn’t think of him as a fool, and neither did Hermes. I’d kept this a secret not to hurt him, but to make sure I didn’t. And Mother had to go and ruin it all.

  I swallowed, the words stuck in my throat. “Yes,” I finally said. “I’m happy. And—that’s just the summer, all right? Down here, you and I are…whatever we are. These seasons a
re yours.”

  He nodded, not quite meeting my eye. “Very well. So long as you are happy, that was all I wanted.”

  The pain behind his words coiled around my insides until it nearly suffocated me. Why had Mother done this? She must’ve known how much it would hurt him. “I’m sorry Mother told you,” I said quietly. “I never meant for you to find out. I knew it would hurt you, and we weren’t going to continue it down here, and—”

  He shook his head. “Your mother did not tell me.”

  I blinked. “Then who?” Who else knew?

  Hades was silent, and he took my arm as the doors into the throne room opened. Rows of the dead turned to watch us, and at the end of the aisle, standing beside Hades’s throne, was Hermes.

  Of course. He was the only other person who knew. Why had he told? Absolution? To ease his guilt?

  Whatever it was, I glared at him as Hades and I reached our thrones. Did you really have to tell?

  Yes. His voice whispered through me, for my mind only. I don’t want us to be a secret, not from Hades.

  You hurt him. Badly.

  We both did.

  I sat down in my throne, tearing my eyes away from him and focusing instead on the faces of the dead awaiting judgment. The first one moved before us, her head bowed as Hades addressed her, but I was deaf to his words. I wish you hadn’t.

  I’m sorry. I respect him too much to go behind his back like that.

  Yet you don’t respect him enough to keep your hands off his wife in the first place?

  You were free to do whatever you wanted then. But I won’t keep it a secret from him, either. He deserves better than that.