She drew in a steadying breath, lifted an unsteady hand to remove the mask. She was thankful to be rid of it… until she saw his face. His eyes widened and his smile tightened.
Did she please him?
She swallowed, turning towards the gawking faces before her. They were a sea of strangers, assessing her. They spoke of her, behind raised hands, with tittering whispers and subdued tones. And her uneasiness grew.
She missed her meadow and her flowers … even the terse companionship of one with midnight locks and haunting blue-black eyes.
Chapter Seven
It was Persephone. The Fates would show him no mercy, then.
Her green eyes held him, round with panic, even while the rest of her face was hidden by the chalky white porcelain mask she wore.
Why was she afraid?
She looked ready to bolt, as if the slightest motion would send her running from this festive hall. She stood straight, but he could see the trembling of her hands, the unsteady rise and fall of her chest. She clung to the swag of fabric, hiding behind her pillar.
It was too much for him.
He would not stay. He’d let Hermes goad him. Let his temper make him careless with his blade. Hermes had made short work of him, laughing in victory. When they’d arrived, Hermes had left him quickly. Well disguised behind a grinning mask, the light-hearted deity went off in search of more enthusiastic companionship.
While he was left alone to stare into her green eyes, eyes that had plagued his dreams and distracted him from his duties… eyes that crinkled when she smiled, or sparkled when she laughed. They seemed greener now. Perhaps it was the bright white mask that made them so brilliant.
Perhaps it was that he’d missed her.
She blinked at him, stirring him from his musing.
By the Fates, he had missed her. And he would suffer for it.
He forced himself from the room, sucking in air that his lungs seemed too shallow to hold. Once outside, he leaned heavily against the wall.
Mortals brushed past him, peering at him with knowing smiles and whispered assumptions. They thought him some inebriated reveler, a mortal fool unsteady from too much wine and merriment. Their titters and laughter served to heighten his irritation.
Why had he come?
He turned back, peering into the room. She was staring up at this man, Erysichthon, her intended. Yet she was no less rigid with fear. Hades’ hands fisted, and a fiery flash of anger ran through him.
Did she not want this alliance?
He watched as the king took her small hand in his. Watched as the king’s massive hand clasped hers, enveloping it. Erysichthon’s brown eyes raked over her, to linger on her curves with distinct fascination.
Hades gripped the door frame, holding himself back. He would gladly smash the head of this lecherous mortal for regarding her so. She was a Goddess. She was worthy of respect and reverence, not lust.
While she ascended onto the king’s dais with easy grace, the panic in her bright green eyes told him she felt neither calm nor assured.
Erysichthon whispered something to her and all fell quiet as she drew her mask from her face.
She was beauty. Even now, when her discomfort was obvious, she sat with poised dignity. How could he not admire her?
“Hades?” Hermes whispered his name.
His words were harsh. “I must leave before this arrogant fool knows my wrath.”
Hermes grabbed Hades’ arm, his voice sad as he said, “Come, my friend. I’ve asked too much of you this night.”
Hades followed Hermes without resistance. The night air was chill in the garden, filled with the scents of fresh flowers and earth. Hades drew in a deep breath, easing the fury from his muscles. He pushed the mask from his face, welcoming the fresh air upon his flushed skin.
“You find him ill-suited?” Hermes asked, sliding his mask back as well.