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“Not anymore, it isn’t,” he said without missing a beat.
Her lips curled and she said, “Eskòrakas, Hades.” He said nothing, a ghost of a smirk dancing on his lips. She closed the gap between them, their chests touching as she said, “Why even bring Pelops back to life if you were going to kill him again the second you got the chance?”
“I brought him back for you,” he said gently, running his knuckles up and down her arm. She pursed her lips as his touch sent a fire blazing through her. It took the last remaining dregs of her energy not to pounce on him. “I killed him for me,” he dipped his head down, nibbling her earlobe, “and for you.”
Persephone let it go, for now. Hades was going to talk her in circles if she kept asking the same questions. He was never going to admit the truth. The truth that he is just too evil and has been King of the Dead for too long to have any compassion. Even for his wife.
She breathed deep, making a show of letting the discussion drop, pushing her questions down with each swallow against her dry throat. “How could you push me off of a cliff and down into Tartaros? Where—” he opened his mouth to speak, but she continued, “I was attacked.”
Concern flashed across his face, gone as quickly as it came. “What a pity,” he said, crossing his arms. “Explains the torn up clothing, I suppose.”
Persephone’s jaw dropped at his nonchalant reply. “I don’t know why I’m surprised,” she said, shaking her head lightly.
31
TEN YEARS
When Persephone awoke from a deep sleep, lulled by the ever-warm water of her large bathing tub, Hades was standing at her feet with his arms crossed.
The room was dim with a single candle as the only source of light in the room. Persephone had been so tired that she was barely able to light that one, let alone the several dozen others lining the room.
His skin was a glowing bronze in the flames, his hair sucking the minimal light from the room and blending into the shadows, but his eyes… His eyes were unchanged, yet burned through her. The flames reflected in the black pits licked down her spine, singeing the thin hair of her arms and legs as they ate away at her skin and bones.
“Ten years.”
“Ten years until what?” Persephone asked, splashing warm water on her face and rubbing the remnants of sleep from her eyes. She was anxious to sleep in a real bed after spending weeks sleeping for hours at a time on the ground, so she lifted a hand from the water and made circular motions at Hades with her finger.
He stared at her, not turning.
“Turn around.”
An eyebrow shot up, the corner of his mouth following suit as he said, “I know every inch of you, Persephone, there is no reason to hide.”
Her face warmed as she thought about why he knew her naked body, and she suppressed a smile. “Turn.”
Reluctantly, Hades turned to face the wall, turning his body first and letting his eyes linger, craning his neck behind him before tearing them away.
Her arms shook as she pushed up on the ledge, slowly dragging her body out of the water along the edge of the tub. She didn’t have the strength to push away and up at once, nor could she hold herself up so she flopped over the tubs lip and onto the cool stone floor, thankful Hades was not watching this mess.
Persephone groaned as she reached for her towel, and saw it sitting in a wet crumble at the bottom of the tub.
“Towel,” she whimpered under her breath. She was too exhausted and cold to care that she sounded like an unhappy infant.
Hades reached back without turning toward her, a towel dangling from his outstretched hand. She yanked it from him, knocking him slightly off balance and forcing him to turn and catch himself before falling into the water.
“Ooh,” Persephone grimaced, hugging the warm towel to her chest, “sorry.”
Averting his eyes as she wrapped herself in the towel, he nodded once.
“Good night,” she said, her voice lilting as she pictured the bed she would be asleep in in less than fifty steps. She lifted her hand briefly in a wave he would not see as she walked out. “Wait,” she turned back in the doorway to face him, “ten years until what?”
Hades avoided her eyes and pinched the back of his neck. This sheepish look was so unlike the Hades she had come to despise. He looked more like himself, the Hades hidden beneath layers of the hardened, vile exterior he showed the rest of the world.
Stopping herself from crossing the room to place a reassuring hand on his arm, Persephone smiled at him from the threshold. It wasn’t an easy smile with the heaviness of her lids and facial muscles being weighted down with sleep, and she softly said, “You can tell me, Hades.”
“Not until,” he said, his eyes darting around the room to look at anything but her.
When she did not say anything within three seconds, Hades looked like he was going to burst out of his skin right there. His jaw was tight and working, whirring side to side as he ground his teeth together.
