Page 27 of His in the Dark

PERSEPHONE

I n the mornings, I spend time sitting at the table in the quiet period before Silvie comes, sensing my powers and thinking about what the future holds. Many mornings, I look through the book Silvie brought me. Books on magic and witches, in the history of Gods and what has been and what is foretold to come. I cannot say I understand all of what is written there and much seems contradictory, but I’m taking it page by page, reading carefully. Studying it as I release the idea that I’ll ever go back home.

Perhaps it will be like coming to understand my powers in the Underworld. We went over many small pieces of knowledge over and over again before it finally clicked into place.

I do not know if my mother and father think I’ve gone on my own. If they search for me or not. I do hope they are at peace and perhaps the Fates have told them I am well. There is a soft agony deep in my heart that even the love Hades gives me does not soothe.

Silvie still does not think she was the one to teach me magic, but this is not true.

She taught me something that might be more important than how to sense the powers available to me in the Underworld. Silvie taught me patience. She taught me that commitment must be stronger than fear. I would never have been able to set aside my own panic and study if it weren't for Silvie.

That is what I am doing on the morning I feel the pull. Reading in an attempt to understand and to escape and to find peace that evades me.

It’s after Samhain, so the days are shorter, even in the Underworld. The sun takes more time to rest below the horizon. Silvie comes to join me a bit later, as if the whole of the Underworld has adjusted to the sun. Because Silvie does not come early, I have more time in the mornings to sit at the table with the gentle light of a lamp and the book, letting my mind wander over the pages as I might wander through the gardens, touching the words with my fingertips without trying to make them into something they are not.

I am only getting to know them.

I ignore the tug at first. There is much magic in the Underworld, and it is not unheard of for me to feel it as it moves. I did not recognize such things when I first arrived here. Even with my powers at full strength and a deeper understanding of how they worked in various realms, I was too terrified to have noticed a sensation like this. Like the crackling behind the obsidian walls. I no longer fear it. I only wish to know what causes it and why Sylvie and Hades do not appear to hear it like I do.

It comes a second time, and I ignore it again. Magic is unpredictable. I have learned much about my powers in the weeks that I have been in the underworld. That does not mean I know everything. And what the Fates told me was unsettling. There is a choice to be made, apparently—and it is impossible to make the right choice. Lightning cracked across the sky not long after I left them. More souls are flooding into the Underworld.

They did not offer to take a message to my mother. They only told me she misses me as well, along with what seemed like a prophecy I could not understand.

The third time the pull happens, I close the book and put it on the table, then close my eyes.

Something isn’t right.

But what?

I open my eyes with a deep breath, and then look around the rooms as dispassionately as I can. I have had blankets and pillows and soft rugs brought in. I make a point of keeping the fire bright and hot. I cannot change how the sun rises and sets, nor would I want to, but I have made this place welcoming.

There is nothing wrong that I can see.

Silvie?

It is a bit earlier than she usually comes to join me, but I don’t feel a sense of dread about her. I might, if she were in great danger. We have spent enough time together that I know the feel of her magic, and I care about her enough to notice if something terrible had happened.

When the tug comes again, I concentrate on it as hard as I can.

It is like a calling.

My magic—or the magic of the bond I have with Hades—is calling to me.

I rise from my chair and find a simple cloak to put over my dress, then leave my rooms. At the end of the hall, two guards leave their posts and follow after me. I do not mind if they accompany me wherever I am being summoned.

If what has gone wrong is some kind of catastrophe, then at least I will have them with me. They are sworn to protect me afterall. And I am still so new to the Underworld and what lies beyond the castle.

And if there is nothing awry after all, no harm done. They will have done their duty and stretched their legs.

I follow the tug out along the path. More time had passed than I realized. The tug comes again, spurring me onward. I focus on following it, keeping my mind clear, like I do when I read from the book with its ancient spells. I travel through the stone falls like a maze, not quite paying attention to where I am, as I’m focused on the pull and not losing it. I do not want to read trouble into this feeling if there is none. I do not want to panic before there is reason to. But it calls to me with necessity.

At last, the call in my magic guides me off the path and into the outer fields of Elysium.

I follow it across a narrow valley to a row of old oak trees. They’re beautiful, ancient bark and one of the few plants that reside in the Underworld. They were a gift long ago from one God to another. Beyond the trees there is a clearing with a stream running through it.

Hades stands near the stream, his arms at his sides. At first, I think he is alone.

He is not.

The nymph blends in with the trees around her. The fabric of her gown looks like dappled bark until she moves and the fabric rustles, and it is a gown again. She wears a wreath of autumn leaves on her head. Long, blonde hair flows down her back, wavy and shining. She looks caught between the seasons—green and dappled in places on her gown with the darker shades of winter gradually taking over.

I raise my hand, and the guards come to a stop.

“Hades.”

Hades turns to look at me, and a simper spreads across his face. His eyes light. “My Queen.”

“I had a warning.” I move to his side and put my hand in his. “Did you have need of me?”

“Always,” he says in a low voice, his eyes darkening. But before I can leap into his arms—and I would— he lifts his head. “I was delayed.”

“Were you?”

“Yes. This nymph engaged me in conversation.”

The nymph has not gone. She peeks out of the trees at us, her bright eyes jumping between Hades and me.

A tug that feels more like fire than a call springs up in my chest. “In conversation?”

I meet Hades’s eyes. He gives me a calm, even look that soothes some of the fire.

Some—but not all of it.

The nymph takes a few steps out of the trees. What is she thinking, getting closer? Possessiveness like I’ve never felt comes over me. It would make more sense to me if she had turned and run at the first sight of me. A pink flush to her cheeks says the conversation was not a simple exchange of greetings. Her hands move to the buttons on the front of her dress—visible one second, then lost in the dappled pattern the next.

Her fingers work, and her buttons close.

I’m genuinely surprised for a few beats. This nymph unbuttoned her dress? She saw Hades on the path and decided to unbutton her dress?

Anger grows and with it, a heat in my palms. Hades stands by my side, laying a hand on my shoulder and whispers at the edge of my ear, “It does not matter what others may try. I am yours and yours alone.” My eyes do not leave the nymph as he speaks. “I told her such and I believe she understands now.”

The fire rages in me. But it is not chaotic, it is eerily calm. I do not address him. Foolish God.

“What is your name, nymph?” I question. My voice does not need to be loud. The magic between me and Hades seems to amplify my powers, and his hand in mine amplifies my sense that yes , something was wrong, and yes , it was this nymph.

He may have said no, but I do not for one moment believe that she took it to heart.

“Minthe, my Queen,” she answers. Her voice is sweet, like a breeze in summer leaves.

It does not strike me as innocent. She knew what she was doing when she unbuttoned her dress. Power surges inside me. It is the magic, telling me in no uncertain terms that I am where I need to be. My very purpose grows within me here.

“And you met my King on the path,” I say although my tone is question like.

“Yes,” she answers.

“And you unbuttoned your dress.”

Minthe’s gaze flicks to Hades before reaching me. She admits, “I did, my Queen.”

“And you thought…what? That you’d take him to bed with you?”

Minthe says nothing for a moment. “It was an offering for the God, my Queen. One he refused. My mistake,” she offers.

She made an offer to Hades, who has not let go of my hand.

Who will not let go of my hand. Who meant it when he said his love would always be greater than his anger, and meant it when he said I owned every part of him, and meant it when he said always .

Anger and rage turn to something else. Something cold deep within me. Something almost unfeeling.

“I don’t find that acceptable,” I murmur. And although her gaze leaves mine, mine stays on hers and when she looks back she’s caught in it.

Hades brings my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles gently before releasing it. As if a blessing to do as I wish. Minthe freezes as I cross the space between us. Her eyes go wide, then faraway, as if she has accepted her fate.

She closes her eyes as I lift my hand and press it against her head.

I do not think. I simply do. “My Queen!” She begs at first but in my touch, she is silenced. Her wide eyes stare back at me with terror. Minthe’s head drops down under my hands almost instantly, and keeps dropping. I kneel, following the shrinking figure to the grass.

I change her from one form to another. Taking the essence of Minthe and guiding it into a new way of being. One that will let her feel the pleasures of existence, but not the freedom of wandering through the woods, unbuttoning her dress for any King of mine who happens to walk by.

Leaves tickle my palms, and I open my eyes, then open my hands.

A tiny, perfect plant with velvety leaves sprouts from the ground. It smells fresh and cool and soothing even. I imagine her leaves plucked and seeped into hot water would make an excellent tea.

“Mint,” I say, feeling like I’m telling the plant its own name. “It shall be called mint. That is only fair, I suppose.”

Look at that… I made life in the Underworld that pleases me. A pleasure like none I’ve felt before flows through me eerily calm.

As Minthe was in her nymph form, she is beautiful as a mint plant. Though slightly out of season, her leaves are green and fragrant, and her stalk is well-formed and strong. Soon, there will be other mint plants around her. More of her sisters will grow in the summer. My smile fades. That cannot happen here. No new life will grow. But others can be made as such. Others who betray me. Slowly, the warmth returns at the thought. Perhaps I shall have gardens in the Underworld afterall.

Hades steps beside me, and he offers his hand to me.

I take it and let him help me to my feet, my face hot.

His hand wraps underneath my chin, and he tips my face up to his, claiming my mouth in a possessive kiss filled with heat and gratitude.

He kisses me so deep and long that I have no choice but to put my arms around his waist and hold him tight.

“Are you well, my Queen?”

“I am pleased,” I tell him in a whisper.

I get dizzy with the taste of him and the powerful magic of the bond, which must be celebrated. I’ve never felt so much approval in magic before. I did not know it could give so much approval.

Finally, just when I’m about to forget the forest entirely, Hades breaks the kiss and puts a hand at my elbow to steady me.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice raw.

“It was nothing.” A shaky laugh escapes me. “What else could I have done? You’re mine now.”

“My Goddess, I am yours,” says Hades, and bends down for one last kiss before we return home. “Rage and possessiveness look beautiful on you.”