A Touch of Ruin (Hades & Persephone 2)

Persephone sighed. “I wish you’d have asked me.”

“I’d really rather not,” she said. “Now, about the dress. I was thinking black…”

Hecate continued explaining her vision for what she called Persephone’s ‘grand ensemble.’ The goddess only half-listened, her mind wandering to the story of Apollo, his sister, and Hades. During her research of the God of Music, she hadn’t considered checking into other stories from his past. The god’s offenses were indeed endless and violent, and she found herself wondering if even Hades could prevent his retaliation.

After dinner, Persephone found herself alone in her suite again. She started to curse Hades for building it. Who puts their wife in a whole other part of their palace? It was so...antiquated!

You aren’t his wife, she corrected herself. You are his...girlfriend.

Maybe.

She couldn’t be sure. She hadn’t seen Hades since he left her here yesterday. She had attempted to go in search of him earlier and hadn’t found him anywhere in the palace. She assumed that must mean he was at Nevernight or dealing with Leuce.

Her mood darkened further, and she found herself outside again, exploring the Underworld in the fading light. Her frustration caused the flowers around her to bloom and the grass to grow taller. She hated it. She was literally leaving a path for anyone to follow.

She traveled far, over rocky hills and mossy valleys until she found herself on the edge of a cliff, face-to-face with a grey ocean.

The wind whipped her face, cooling her heated face. Her insides were still raging. She felt so angry—angry with Apollo and with Hades and being stuck in that gods-forsaken suite. Was this his form of punishment? Leaving her in the Underworld and avoiding her at all costs? He didn’t seem at all sorry for his part in this.

She decided she needed to calm down when a rose sprouted from her arm. The bud was painful as it grew, and when she pulled it free, she screamed from the burn, and blood poured from the wound.

This is torture, she thought.

She tore off a piece of her gown and wrapped it around her arm as tight as she could before settling on the ground. First, she focused on the sound of the sea rushing the shore below, the feel of the wind against her face, the smell of ash and salt in the air. Then she closed her eyes and breathed deep—filling her lungs with the same smells, with the same wind, with the same sounds until she felt like she was in the ocean herself, rocking back and forth, cradled in warm waves.

The anger and tension and pain broke apart.

For the first time today, she felt calm, collected, clear-headed.

When she opened her eyes, it was dark, and she knew she should head back to the palace before anyone started worrying, but as she got up to leave, she found the path her magic had created was gone.

Still, she thought she could manage on her own, and started in the direction

she thought she’d come. She walked for a while before she realized she was lost. Exhausted and unable to teleport, she found a spot beneath a tree and sat, sliding to the ground where she fell asleep.

She was roused by Hades’ warmth. His scent filled her nose as he cradled her close to his chest. She knew when they teleported because the air changed. If she wasn’t so exhausted—so groggy—she would have opened her eyes to see his expression. In fact, she wanted to open her eyes, because her heart needed to see how he was looking at her—but she found she couldn’t.

She was so damn tired.

Why was she so tired?

Hades held her close for a long time before shifting and settled her in a heap of blankets. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and warmth seeped into her skin.

She remembered nothing else.

CHAPTER X - GOD OF MUSIC

When Persephone opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed were black silk sheets. She caressed them, brows knitting together. How had she gotten in Hades’ room? She rolled over, thinking she might find him beside her, but the bed was empty. Then she heard the clink of a glass and her eyes shifted to Hades’ bar.

Hermes was standing in front of it and he had frozen at the sound, looking to see if he’d woken her.

“Hermes?” she asked.

The God of Trickery turned fully holding a decanter of amber liquid and a glass. “Sorry, Sephy. I needed a drink.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked, sitting up in bed.

“What am I doing here? What were you doing last night?”