Series: Willow Winters
Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“It is me,” she argues, a tear slipping out of her eye and dripping down her cheek. Her face is pink. Her upset is palpable, and I understand it. That may be the worst part. I understand, because I feel it as well, how she missed me. I was desperate for her, too. “Grief is for us all.”
“Destruction is not. Mother, you must see that. It is not the fault of the mortals—”
“It is not as if Hades would care about what I felt. What his selfishness caused. He only cares about his realm. He could never have anticipated how much I care for my daughter.” Her eyes go soft, and her lips tremble. “Oh, Persephone.”
My eyes search hers for what she knows. Does she know he loves me? Does she know I love him as well? My words refuse to leave my lips, caught in my throat. What will she do if I tell her how I’ve fallen for the god of the Underworld.
“I will not say a word against your anger,” I murmur, looking into her eyes. For the first time on Olympus, I feel…I must stand on my own. I know what I believe, and I know it is wrong to punish mortals for the actions of gods. It has been done before—many times—but that does not mean it is right. This is not my mother. She doesn’t wish for suffering. “But you have heard their prayers. You have been there for mortals. Helped them with their harvest. Gave them comfort. They are your people. What happened was not their fault.”
My mother lets out a long exhale and wipes away a few more tears with the sleeve of her gown.
“You have always been like this, haven’t you?” With a little laugh, she brings her hand to my face. “You have never loved your shadow side.”
“My shadow side—”
“But I have been forced to make peace with mine,” she says over me. “It is not my fault, either, Persephone. Having you taken to the Underworld”—her hands shake—“that would never be my doing. Never.”
That sends another wave of fear through my body. No—of course she would not have allowed me to be taken to the Underworld.
And if I had never gone…
Would I have learned about magic from someone like Beatrice? Would I have spent my days wandering the paths of the realm, greeting others without thoughts of myself?
Would I know what it is to sit next to Hades at court and look upon the souls who had passed into his realm? To show mercy in ways he cannot.
No. Of course I would not have. And something inside me says I needed those experiences. I needed them more than I ever could have known. Again my fingers twitch with the need for magic and power to come to life. But I grip my hands together, not wanting to test it here.
I don’t know what to say to my mother. Her expression is still filled with agony. Her hand refuses to let me go. Perhaps she needs only time to see reason.
“I missed you,” I say. “I missed you so much. I know this is not the only side of you. Please…I am not harmed. I am not ill. I am… Mother, I am doing very well.”
Her eyes flicker all over my face, and a crease appears in her forehead. “Are you?” Pain is etched into her expression. Concern riddled in her gaze.
“Yes! I promise! I give you my word. I am well. I am—” There are no words to describe what Hades has done for me. Not in terms my mother will understand. “I am well,” I say again, stepping closer. “Please know that I am well. There is nothing to avenge.”
My mother smiles, her eyes still shining with tears. She makes a sound that is not really agreement. My mother still thinks there is something to avenge.
She might even think I am lying to her. Hiding some pain from her.
My mother takes a half-step back and smooths down my hair again. She curls a lock gently around her finger and hooks it behind my ear, then squeezes my hands, dropping them only after a long moment.
“Come with me, Persephone. Let me hold you. I have missed you so much.”
With my hands in hers, I allow us this moment, and I try to silence the memory of the screams of thousands of souls tortured in the Underworld at the hands of my mother.
Hades
How much time must pass? Before she is returned or before I snap?
“My Lord,” Minox says. His voice is dull. Distant. Barely louder than a whisper. It cannot be louder than the breeze in my mind. His voice is cloaked in darkness as he is.
I’m aware it’s not real, but the image before me is vivid.
Persephone, standing in the meadow. The sun shines down on her hair. She bends to pick a flower and twirls it in her fingers, then brings it to her nose to inhale its scent. Her beauty and grace are unmatched. The depths of my soul long to be beside her, but that reality will never be. I can never leave the Underworld. She must return to me. She must.