Hades nodded, but his gaze was fixed upon her. He spoke softly, cautioning himself, “Take word to her mother. Assure her that, once Persephone is well enough, I will see her safely home.”
“What else do you need of me?” Hermes asked, his face pained.
Hades could not think. Was there anything else? She had the food and drink of the immortals. Time would heal her, if she could be healed. There was nothing else to be done. He shook his head, saying, “I thank you.”
Hermes’ face was somber as he regarded Hades, but he nodded. “Shall I send Aeacus to you?”
“No. Tell him I am not to be disturbed. He and the judges will earn their keep.”
“Surely there are women who might tend to her?” Hermes asked softly.
Hades glanced at Persephone, her pale skin… how still she was. He nodded. “Ask him to send a woman, a servant, one with some knowledge of healing. Aeacus will know who.”
Hermes nodded. “You have done all you can.”
“She will be well.” His voice was hard. “I will see to it.”
“Let the woman tend her, Hades. And rest easy.”
Hades glared at Hermes. He would not leave her, not yet. How could he? Did Hermes not see her? Did he not see how fragile she was? How could he suggest such a thing? He bit back his tirade, though his tone revealed him. “In time, Hermes.”
Hermes’ tawny eyes assessed Hades too carefully. Hermes would draw his own conclusions, but Hades had no desire to hear them. Instead he held his arm out, waiting for Hermes to clasp it.
“You’ve only to send Theron, if you or Persephone have need of me,” Hermes offered in parting.
She sighed, drawing Hades’ attention back to her. The muscles of her face moved easily in sleep. He resumed his seat by the fire, his eyes never leaving her.
The servant woman arrived soon after, cleaning the floor and removing Persephone’s bloodied garments. She warmed a pan of water over the fire to clean Persephone’s wounds, but when she reached for the pan, Hades stopped her.
“You may go,” he murmured. “Return in the morning.” As she left, he went to work sponging the smooth flesh of Persephone’s stomach with gentle hands. The wound was dry, the telltale start of a scab forming. He took care not to poke or prod it. But the sight of her, covered in so much blood, was too much for him… It would distress her, should she wake. And he would do all in his power to keep her calm and safe.
Chapter Ten
Erysichthon swayed. He’d yet to stop, to rest, since she’d left. He could not. He could think of nothing else.
She’d suffered. Her screams filled his ears and pressed the air from his lungs.
Where was she? Where?
Who was the bastard that had taken her? Erysichthon’s hands fisted, a snarl escaping him. He would see that man suffer. He would see him suffer as none had suffered before. He would watch the light in his black eyes die out.
His men… He’d none to call upon. He’d left them to the Persians. What else could he do? There were too many of them, too many… And she was being taken from him. He’d no time to call them back, no time to prevent their defeat… their slaughter.
He stilled. So many dead… He could do nothing for them.
Instead, he must find her.
He’d ridden after her but found nothing, though he’d searched long into the night. No tracks from the bastard’s chariot, no path from his monstrous chargers, and none that had seen the man who’d taken his Persephone from him.
Two days of searching. Two days of praying to Demeter, demanding her aid.
He offered sacrifices, offerings… Whatever the Goddess sought, he would appease her.
But he was alone, with no clues to guide him. He was powerless… but his fury was limitless.
An idea formed, one he refused to accept. But the more he prayed, the longer Demeter stayed silent, the more his idea took hold and rooted deeply. If Demeter would not answer him, there was some purpose behind it. In all of his years of fealty, he’d respected her careful actions. She did nothing without deliberation. If she remained silent now, there was a purpose.
Had she had taken Persephone? Was that why she did not answer him? Had she sent him? He would know the answers, hear them from her lips. For his mind was too clouded to see the truth.