‘You know what I mean. We haven’t spent any actual time together in a while. I had an excellent day today – found a bolt of fabric in the exact shade of cerulean I’ve been looking for. I decided if I had to steal my wife from the court in order for us to spend any sort of time together then that’s what I’d do.’
‘Fates, Hades, you could have simply asked,’ I say but I can’t shake the grin on my face. ‘Okay, I actually had something planned that I’ve been meaning to make time for too. Come with me.’
I take him to the roof of the palace, which is not easy as there’s no flat surface up there, no window that leads out to it, and he simply refuses to climb the swords, hidden as they are beneath the ivy. I make it grow thicker and we climb that instead, and after much grumbling we’re up.
‘This is eccentric even for you,’ he says.
‘Thank you.’
‘I’ll never be able to insult you without you taking it as a compliment, will I?’
‘Stop insulting me then,’ I say. ‘Come on, this will be worth it.’
I moved the painting days ago and planted it on a patch of flowers. With my new transport links, I can pull it straight through to the ivy next to me.
‘My painting is not the surprise you seem to think it is.’
‘Is this?’ I ask. I glance at it quickly but I’ve memorized the whole thing already and I look up to the sky.
I blast it full of stars.
Hades gasps. His hand is vice-like on my arm as he stares at the sky above us, dancing with designs he created. These are not the constellations my father made in the Earth’s sky, each one a tale of his conquests. These belong entirely to us and they sparkle in the pitch-dark sky.
I hear distant cheers, mortals or gods I’m not sure, but it’s nice to give something both can enjoy.
But I’m focused on Hades. Up on the roof he’s framed by the galaxies and he looks so very good in starlight. His eyes mirror the stars and, Fates, the way he looks in awe at the world and then, slowly, at me.
He opens his mouth as though to say something but he doesn’t, and just as I’m about to tease him for finally being speechless he leans forward and kisses me.
My brain short-circuits. I have to reach out and grab him for stability, have to find something to cling to because everything’s spinning and his lips on mine are everything Ihoped they’d be and this is real, no audience, no crowd, just the two of us beneath the watching stars. My fists curl so tightly in his robes I can feel my nails pressing through. When I kiss him back he gasps and the sound unravels me.
His hands tangle in my hair. He catches my lip between his teeth and I moan, which only makes him pull me closer. My own hands are searching now, finally reaching round his neck, my fingers tickling the short hair there, and it’s not just his lips any more but his whole body pressed against mine and how does anyone do this and remember to keep breathing?
It’s so easy, the way our lips move. A thousand fake kisses in front of a watching court and not a single one like this – not a kiss that feels like everything, a kiss that feels like I am alight.
A hand moves to my waist and now it’s my turn to bite down on his lip, and his fingers curl into my side, holding me close like there is any way for us to be closer.
I break away, move my lips to his neck. I have no idea what I’m doing but something takes over. All I know is I want to kiss him there, to bite at his pulse or run a trail of kisses along his collarbone.
But then.
‘Stop,’ he suddenly gasps. ‘Stop.’
I pull back immediately, but his hands are still holding me in place like he doesn’t want me to move away at all.
I trail my fingers along the tips of his hair, the short, wiry curls tickling, and it’s all I can do not to cup the back of his head and draw him back to me. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘We shouldn’t do this.’
‘Why not? It’s fun.’ Oh, it’s so much more than that.
He laughs but it’s short. He’s as out of breath as I am.
‘I won’t pretend I haven’t thought about this a dozen times.’ He takes my hand and kisses my wrist, which is somehow a thousand times more intimate than the hand itself, but then he drops it and stares at it like he hadn’t even thought about doing that. Now he is pulling away from me, like if he can’t get distance he doesn’t know what will happen. ‘I can’t do this, Persephone. It’s all I want, believe me. But I can’t kiss you like that then go back to our chaste, practised kisses for the court.’
Wait, why would we go back to that? I run my fingers through my hair, the tangles he has made of it. Why would we ever stop doing this?
‘I can’t – I … I think we’re both aware that there’s this … desire between us,’ he continues and, by the Fates, his pupils are blown wide, even as they glance away from me. ‘It’s been an issue from the moment we started this public performance. But it’s been worse recently. I’ve been struggling with touching you in public and then forcing myself not to want to touch you in private. I can’t kiss you in both – one in faked love and one in mere lust. It’s too much.’
