He watched her go, admiring her graceful movement and the sway of her fiery hair. He waited until she’d left, then sank into his chair and let his head fall into his hands. He must prepare himself. It had been too long since he’d felt anything. And yet she’d given him no choice.
The pain of her leaving would be near unbearable.
Chapter Thirteen
Persephone had not slept at all. Each time she closed her eyes, she’d imagined him coming to her. Words of love had been on his lips while his body had been most eager to show her his ardor.
“More dreams,” she muttered to the empty room, pushing the furs from her legs angrily.
She draped her tunic about her, tying it once, and combed her hair. Her head ached mildly, so she left it loose and headed to the hall. They took their breakfast on the balcony, enjoying the warm sun and pale blue sky.
“Good morning,” she greeted him, taking an ambrosia cake.
He nodded at her, his face almost hostile. She blinked, startled by the ferocity of his gaze.
“I’m needed elsewhere,” he murmured as he left her.
The cake she had chewed seemed to stick in her throat. She watched his progress from the rail as he crossed the heavy stone bridge and made his way across Asphodel. Her frustration rose up, demanding she call out to him. But she knew better.
He stopped suddenly, and turned back.
She hesitated, taking in his posture rigid with apprehension, before raising her hand. She felt close to tears, but forced a smile to her lips.
He turned away and disappeared behind the boulders around Tartarus’ entrance.
She sighed. Her words had been rash but she’d been angry. She was still angry.
A bark caught her attention. The hounds ran in the fields, their long bodies flexing as they covered the ground with broad sweeping leaps. She smiled, watching the eldest trip the youngest. They tumbled in the grass, circling each other and running again.
Persephone grabbed her cloak and headed out, running from the house and across the bridge to the fields. The youngest greeted her, panting heavily and wagging his thin black tail.
“Good morning,” she murmured, rubbing its broad head.
It felt good to stretch her legs. Before she knew it, she was running with the hounds. They were much faster than she was, but they circled back, racing circles around her when she’d slow.
She eventually collapsed, letting herself fall back on the soft, thick grasses of Asphodel.
Why was he making this so difficult?
She’d hoped that his control would falter, that he would finally accept their fate as she had. But it was not to be. He rejected that their fates were intertwined together, forever.
The clouds grew grey, thickening strangely as she watched.
“I’m like that cloud,” she whispered to the hound at her side. He turned his head and looked at her, ears cocked. “Whatever is inside of me is building and growing until I fear I’ll burst from it.”
The hound lay down again, but she sat up. She knew the truth of it. Her mind and body ached for him, consumed by some sort of throbbing fever. She would tell Hades the truth, what was in her heart. She stood, heading towards the fortress with renewed purpose. The sky grew ever darker as she crossed the bridge, and she glanced up. The clouds thickened, rolling in strange patterns overhead.
She headed to the hall. Mayhap it wasn’t too late? If he had not sent for Hermes she might be able to stay. And she would be thankful for every day she had with him. She turned into the hall, ever hopeful.
“Can he save her?” A woman’s voice brought her up short. A woman? She did not care for the twist of her stomach or the flash of anger tightening her throat.
In her time here, Hermes had been the only guest. Only shades and ghosts roamed the Underworld, and they never entered Hades’ home. She moved forward, her bare feet silent on the cold stone floor, to peer around the doorway. But seeing the creature that spoke offered little comforted.
This woman was true perfection.
“Is there nothing else to be done for him?” The woman’s massive blue eyes were fixed upon Hades.
Even her voice was lovely.