“Have you found no happiness here?” he asked.
She sighed. “I have tried…”
“But?”
“I miss him.”
“Who?” Demeter’s voice was soft. “Who do you miss, daughter? Tell me, so that I might help ease your sorrow.”
Persephone spun. “Mother? I… I–”
“You thought you were alone with Hermes.” She took Persephone’s hands from him. “What does he know that I, your mother, do not?”
“I shall leave you,” Hermes murmured, though neither Persephone nor her mother acknowledged him.
Persephone studied her mother, considering her words. Would her mother understand? Had she ever felt such love? Or been rejected so completely? She trembled, whispering, “Hades. I miss Hades.”
Demeter’s brown eyes went round, her hands tightening. “Hades?”
Persephone nodded. “I love him.”
Demeter continued to stare at her.
“But he does not love me,” Persephone’s words choked her. “He does not.”
Demeter pulled her to one of the stone benches. No sooner had they sat than Demeter drew Persephone into an embrace.
“He knows little of love,” Demeter’s breath brushed her forehead. “If he did, I’m sure he would love you. None is more deserving than you, sweet child.”
Persephone clung to her mother, crying in earnest. “It hurts, to be parted from him. I ache… ache for him. To see his smile, and hear his laughter. I can scarce breathe from the hole in my heart.”
Demeter held Persephone pulled back, regarding her daughter with surprised eyes. “You have seen him smile? And laugh?”
Persephone nodded. “Many times.”
“I thought he’d forgotten such things.” Demeter’s thoughtful gaze swept over her. “Did you give yourself to him?”
Persephone felt heat scalding her cheeks. Not from shame, she felt no shame in their joining, but from the memory. “Most happily.”
Demeter drew in a deep breath, releasing it slowly. Persephone watched, regretting her words.
“I am sorry,” Persephone began. “Not that I gave myself to him. I cannot and do not regret a moment of our time together. I am sorry that I kept it from you. But I feared your reaction… That he might be punished for such things.”
“I can hardly punish him when you were willing.” Demeter’s smile was tight. “I can punish him for hurting you–”
Persephone shook her head. “No. You cannot. He told me,” her voice wavered. “He told me he could not give me what I wanted. He held me at arm’s length as long as he could. It was I who forced his hand, I who took what he would give. If you would punish anyone, punish me.”
Demeter’s hand cupped Persephone’s face. “Oh, Persephone. There is nothing to punish, child. You found love. That is a gift.”
Persephone allowed him to enter her thoughts, then. And with his memory, she found her smile.
Chapter Twenty One
Hades’ gaze swept the meadows. How quickly the green had returned. The grasses waved, supple with life. Flowers bloomed and fruit hung heavily from the trees. All about him were signs of life.
Signs that she had returned to those who loved her – and needed her. As he needed her.
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