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)
“I’m not afraid,” I confirm and offer her a simper.
She smiles back, her eyes sparkling, and hugs me once again.
After a beat, she releases me and steps back, taking on a more deferent stance, her hands folded in front of her.
We both take a few breaths, calming down from the rush of our reunion. I cannot believe I did not see her last night. My mother required that time, however, and I can only hope that settling my mother’s heart will convince her to have mercy on the mortal realm.
“I am not only here to greet you,” Beatrice says and straightens her shoulders. She swallows thickly, “I have come to bring you a message, my queen.”
Hades
My andron grows warm as the hour I am to speak to Persephone approaches.
I’ve done my best to keep busy. I’ve walked my realms for hours. I’ve taken Cerberus with me, and we have gone to every place I can think of. I’ve repaired as much damage as I could hunt down, my throat closed with guilt.
It is only the thought of her that provides me with such calmness and intent for justice and balance. Even as the screams of the dead continue to pour through my realm and disrupt what little peace the four corners of the Underworld held.
I’m the cause of much of the damage, but it is not only my doing. It is Demeter’s as well. Hecate’s.
Zeus’s. The righteous anger is barely tamed within me. Like a dog tethered to a collar, I maintain the semblance of control knowing I may see her soon. I must have my Persephone, my queen, my love, my life.
And I cannot promise, even to myself, that I will not cause more damage to my realms. I’m not myself without Persephone. She has changed me. My love for her feels more desperate, and more volatile, than it ever has. To know such loss is a torture that should be saved for the worst of the dead.
Zeus begrudgingly agreed to give Persephone the scry of Olympus. As I understand it, he suffers the wrath of Demeter still. The god of gods has betrayed Demeter, and she’s sure of it. But I’ve agreed to keep what’s been between us secret so long as he agrees to uphold the law of the gods. She’s eaten the forbidden fruit, I’m sure of it. She will be returned. She must. It is only time that keeps us apart. Unless he makes a very ill-advised decision, I’ll speak to her soon.
The wait feels longer than the years I spent alone, hopeless, on the edge of madness.
I lit the fires an hour ago, when I could no longer keep myself away from the andron, then walked around the large space, lighting the fires in the smaller grates as well. The entire room dances with warm reflections. And in them, the memory of her beauty, her sadness and fright, her delight and power. All of her and all she will become. The fire licks into the perfectly polished obsidian, forcing the reflection to look as if I am standing among the flames.
I wish the sight could comfort me. Cerberus whines beside me at the thought. His howling pain echoes the emptiness in my chest.
I pace across the room more slowly, breathing deeply to calm myself. Impatience makes my muscles ache, so I stretch my arms above my head as I go, trying to ease the tension from my shoulders. In those eons I spent alone, there was nothing to sense but my own body in the dark, so I became accustomed to focusing deeply on each movement. To keep what little sanity remained in the pits of despair.
I do that now. It is not much more effective at passing the time, but it is something.
I will see her soon. The promise of reunion is far more motivating than any other offer.
I need to know she is well.
Persephone is the only person, god or mortal, who is fit to rule beside me.
She is the only soul who is fit to hold my hand.
My queen. My love. She is my heart and soul. If she is not returned—
Abruptly, I stop at the far end of the andron. Cerberus pads up behind me, his nails clicking on the obsidian floor, and nudges my leg. I lower my hand to pat his middle head, then the one on the left, then the one on the right.
Cerberus gives a soft, questioning bark, then bounds away, leaving the andron for elsewhere. An open field is his most likely destination. He will spend an hour or two chasing after the creatures of the forest and guarding the gates.
And I will see Persephone. The thought brings a warmth to the chill in my bones.
When Cerberus’s barks have become too distant to hear, I take measured steps back to the mirror and gesture for the fire in the largest hearth to burn a little brighter. I need Persephone to be able to see my face. I will not leave it dim, as I do when I speak with Zeus.