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)
A few voices rise when the doors do not open. They’re only a little louder than whispers, and this time, they are questioning. A prickle slips down my spine. A knowing feeling. This is not the usual routine, but it cannot be. There was too much unrest while Persephone was gone. It will take some time for the various processes in the Underworld to rebalance themselves.
Although irritation runs through me, I do not give any sign that I find this unacceptable. I did not expect the first new soul to be brought in without a moment’s delay.
Persephone tightens her hand in mine. She, too, knows that there is unbalance. Holding my hand a little tighter is the only move she makes.
Just as I am about to speak—to ask if there has been some delay—the doors to the court open.
It’s not a single, new soul that is brought in, flanked by two guards. Swallowing thickly, my shoulders tense.
It is Hecate.
Once again, the entire court falls to one knee, heads bowed. Whispers of graciousness and love follow her path. Hecate extends her hands to the crowd as she comes to the dais where I sit with Persephone, bestowing blessings on the souls. The weariness in her eyes shows me she has not slept since she’s done her bidding in the mortal realm. Leading the army of the dead to seek their retribution and to force closure for their souls that was not granted before their death. Her robe is tattered, graveyard dirt lines the hem of it. Once for every moon’s passing, the great Titan does her work for the dead. And last night she must've brought hell on Earth given her state. Good for her.
Finally, Hecate reaches the dais. She turns to each of the guards who have accompanied her and thanks them, her steady voice loud enough to be heard at the back of the court. The guards retreat back to the doors.
“Hecate.” Persephone rises from her throne with an affectionate smile and steps down to embrace her. Every eye in the room is on her, though no one has gotten to their feet. “I’m glad to see you here. Have you come to make a request? If you have, please be assured that my king and I will hear you.”
My heart thunders. Of course it is the right thing to say, but where did Persephone learn these words? They are a clear demonstration that we have no qualms with Hecate. We are not at war with her. She is the goddess of cycles and balance. Accepting her, even in the darkness, even in the most violent of times, aids peace and hope. Which is surely what this court is after.
Hecate glances over Persephone’s shoulder and inclines her head to me before she speaks.
“My queen,” she says. “My queen. I thank you for your kind greetings. I have not come to make a request, but to give you notice of my comings and goings. I wish for you to be prepared.”
“Prepared?” I question, that trembling rage turning to something else. Something I can finally place: fear. Every soul who is gathered for today’s session will hear me, because they have all fallen silent. They want to hear every word, because they will leave this session and repeat what has happened all through my realms.
“Yes, my king,” Hecate replies. “I come to you to tell you that I will return to Olympus tonight. The new moon is high and will fall shortly. Soon, the new crescent will light the skies. This is the way it has always been, and the way it will be. This is a sign of balance. There will be balance among the realms.”
It’s not quite a whisper that ripples through the crowd at these words. It is more of an energy. A shift of knowing. As if the souls here do not dare to react out loud but are unable to contain their excitement.
“There will be balance,” Persephone replies with a solemn nod, and this time, the vibration is even more palpable. The souls cannot stay still. They sway slightly, even down on one knee. Every face turned toward mine shows the same desire—to turn toward the soul next to them and speak of what has happened. To whisper. Perhaps even to shout.
My hand curls into a fist on the arm of my throne. Balance. The word is a hiss in the back of my mind, and I can’t help but to stare at my queen. Hecate has said so little and yet so much. It’s nearly a threat.
Persephone embraces Hecate again. Then the two goddesses separate, and Hecate gives a shallow bow in my direction. She turns with her head held high and leaves, bestowing more blessings as she makes her way out of court.
When the doors have closed behind her, Persephone comes up the steps of the dais and takes her seat beside me. She slides one of her hands under my fist and the other on top of it, holding my hand in both of hers.