by Aimee Carter
She sniffed. “Fine, as long as you promise to never come back here, either. This is my island, not yours.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
We glared at each other. This war wasn’t over, but for now, we had no choice but to call a ceasefire. I would discover her game soon enough, and until then, I wasn’t about to let her or Zeus or anyone ruin my time with Adonis.
* * *
On the morning of the spring equinox, Hades dropped me off in the meadow as he’d done thousands of times before. I leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek goodbye, nothing more than what it was, but he stiffened.
I frowned and looked behind me. Standing in the clearing, as promised, was Adonis. And Hermes. And Mother.
Terrific.
“And that, I take it, is Adonis?” said Hades quietly, and I blanched.
“Yes.” Who had told him? Aphrodite or Zeus? Did it even matter? “We’re just friends.”
“For now,” he said softly, and I gave him that peck on the cheek.
“I’ll see you on the autumnal equinox. Take care of yourself.”
He remained stoic as I walked across the meadow, and a knot of guilt formed in the pit of my stomach. I should’ve told him, but these seasons were mine, and telling him before anything had happened wouldn’t have made it any easier. It wouldn’t have made him hurt any less.
I ignored Hermes completely. He frowned as I passed, but to my relief, he didn’t say anything. The situation was awkward enough as it was without his getting involved. Instead I headed toward Adonis first, taking his hand and giving him a smile. He returned it, albeit nervously, and he glanced over my shoulder. At Hades, no doubt. “It’s fine,” I said, and I led him toward Mother. “I want you to meet my mother, Demeter. Mother, this is—”
“I know who he is,” said Mother quietly. Instead of welcoming him like I expected, as Adonis bowed in greeting, her lips curled back with contempt. “I thought you were past this, Persephone.”
“Past what?” I said. “Past making friends? Past wanting to be happy?”
“Past causing your husband pain in the most deplorable way possible,” said Mother. Beside me, Adonis straightened, and I touched his elbow. No need for him to waste effort if she was going to be cruel about it.
“You’re the reason that me finding a bit of happiness is so deplorable in the first place,” I said. “If you can’t support me, then fine, I don’t need your support. And I don’t need you here, either.”
I didn’t know what I expected—an angry retort, a sneer, Mother to break down and beg my forgiveness. Either way, I didn’t expect her to fold her hands, give Adonis a slight nod and disappear completely.
All the air left my lungs, and I stared at the empty space where she’d stood moments before. She’d gotten mad at me before, of course, and her disappointment over the years had become impossible to bear. But never had she turned her back on me. Not like this.
“I am sorry,” whispered Adonis, his lips brushing against my temple. The regret in his voice only made the ache inside me grow.
“Don’t be. Please.” He shouldn’t have had to suffer for my mistakes. “Let’s just go.”
“All right,” murmured Adonis, leading me down the path I’d traveled thousands of times before. I trailed after him, heartbroken and empty, and not even the warm weight of his hand in mine brought me comfort.
I thought I’d known what loneliness felt like, but it wasn’t until I walked that trail without Mother that I finally understood. Even in my darkest hour, Mother had been there for me. She’d loved and supported me no matter how often or hard we fought. And now—
Now the one person I’d always needed, the one person I’d thought would always be there for me, was gone.
* * *
That summer was simultaneously the best and worst of my life.
The hole Mother had left inside me only grew as it became clear she had no intention of returning. But at the same time, those four months with Adonis filled me in a way nothing ever had before. Every moment was an adventure—I’d explored the forest around the cottage countless times, but somehow every day he managed to find something new, something small but beautiful that I’d overlooked. A wild garden full of exotic flowers that tangled together in chaos. A tree so ancient and gnarled that I suspected it outdated Zeus. He reintroduced me to things I’d long since lost—the warmth of the sun on my skin, the shiver down my spine as I stepped into a cool river. He gave me back pieces of my life I’d never realized I missed.
No one could deny Adonis was gorgeous, but the more I got to know him, the more I realized that his appearance was little more than a taste of his inner beauty. He was kind, generous, honest and, despite the fact that Aphrodite had gotten to him, he was innocent in a way I hadn’t been since my marriage eons ago. He had nothing but love inside him, and he radiated it every waking hour. I drank it in, letting it fill me until all of the negativity washed away, and by the time four months was up, I’d never been more content with my lot in life. All of it, every last terrible moment, was worth it now that I knew it had led me to Adonis.
In the middle of summer, Aphrodite came to claim him. To her credit, she was mostly polite about it, only giving me a small smirk when Adonis turned his back. But the instant they left, that hole in my heart opened up, hemorrhaging all of the happiness I’d collected during our four months together.
I cried harder than I ever had before. Now that Adonis was no longer there to act as a buffer, for days I did nothing but curl up in bed and stare at the wall as reality set in.
Mother hated me. I’d cheated on Hades again. Hermes was barely talking to me, and the one light in my life was currently with a blonde whore who couldn’t possibly love him the way I did. He was just another toy to her, and the thought of him going through that, having no say in his time with Aphrodite the way I’d had no say in my time with Hades—
It wasn’t fair, but there was nothing I could do about it, either. Zeus had made up his mind, and if Adonis wasn’t willing to speak up on his own behalf, then so be it.
Though I wasn’t proud of it, I spied on them. He didn’t kiss her the way he kissed me; he didn’t watch her the way he watched me. And every time Aphrodite laughed, I swore I saw him flinch.
That should’ve given me some amount of satisfaction, but it only made me more miserable. Adonis should’ve had what I didn’t—freedom. And instead, in my quest to find happiness, I’d stolen that from him. Did that make me as bad as Hades? As bad as Mother and Zeus?
Eventually summer turned into autumn, and it was time for me to return to the Underworld. Hades greeted me in the meadow as always, but rather than a smile and a kiss on the cheek, he simply nodded coldly and took my hand without a word. Whatever he’d gone through in those six months, whatever thoughts and questions had haunted him, had also ruined every step of progress we’d made in the thousands of years since Hermes and I had broken up. And more than ever, self-loathing snaked through me, doing nothing but compounding my despair. I didn’t deserve Hades’s friendship. I didn’t deserve Adonis, not after doing this to him. I didn’t deserve any of it.
Those six months in the Underworld were blank. I went through the motions of existing, but some integral part of who I was had given up entirely. Hades stopped spending the evening with me. He no longer brought me breakfast. He could barely stand to look at me even when we had to, even when a mortal’s eternity depended on our communication. And
rather than take steps to fix it, all I could do was drown in the darkness that was my life. Not even the promise of four months with Adonis in the spring made it better.
After several weeks of spying on Adonis and Aphrodite, I stopped, unable to stomach seeing him so upset any longer. But eventually her time with him passed as well, and shortly before the spring equinox, I couldn’t resist checking in on Adonis once more.
He stood in a stream I didn’t recognize, using a net to capture fish. I watched him, invisible to his eyes, and just seeing him like this—free and happy—was enough to make me smile. Four months wasn’t forever, and one day Aphrodite would grow bored of him. I never would though, and eventually, when mortality claimed him, I would have him entirely to myself. Aphrodite wouldn’t be able to touch him in the Underworld.
Behind me, someone giggled, and a cold wave of dread crashed through me, washing away what little warmth had blossomed. Even though it was his four months of freedom, even though everything I’d witnessed made it clear he didn’t love her, Aphrodite skipped out of the trees, a flower tucked behind her ear.
“Adonis! There you are.” She stepped into the stream with him and set a hand on his bare back. “Any luck?”
He shook his head. “A few close calls.”
“Well, I’ll just ask the nymphs to make us dinner then,” she murmured. “I’m starving.”
Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed him on the mouth, her hand dancing downward toward his waist. She wasn’t hungry for food, that was for damn sure.
I was going to kill her.
This was supposed to be Adonis’s time alone, not an extra third of a year for her. And why was he going along with this? Why hadn’t he refused her and walked away?
The same reason he hadn’t spoken up when Zeus had asked him, more than likely. Mortals with any sense of self-preservation didn’t question a god. Even one as feeble as Aphrodite.
I didn’t hesitate. I pulled my body through the space between us as I’d done almost exactly a year ago, and this time Aphrodite didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see me.
“I was wondering when you’d stick your nose where it doesn’t belong,” she chirped, sliding her arm around Adonis’s torso. He paled at the sight of me, and though he tried to step back from Aphrodite, she held on. Naturally. Couldn’t risk letting her trophy think for himself, else her precious ego might be bruised.
“You don’t have to spend these months with her,” I said to Adonis, keeping my voice as steady as I could. “You know that, don’t you?”
He nodded and averted his eyes, his fishing net all but forgotten. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I said, glaring at Aphrodite. “I’m sure this wasn’t your idea. Why are you here with her?”
“I couldn’t just turn him away in the middle of winter, now, could I?” said Aphrodite, her eyes wide.
“He spends those four months alone. That was our deal,” I said.
She tilted her head and gave me the perfect imitation of a smile. “Oh? I recall Daddy saying he could spend this third doing whatever he wanted. And rather than starving to death, he chose to remain with me.”
That conniving bitch. I raised my hand to slap her, but what was the point when she couldn’t feel pain? “So that’s why you let me have the first four months with him—so you could trick him into spending his free four with you.”
She laughed. “Of course. Honestly, it’s not like he could go to you anyway, so why shouldn’t he spend them with me? He loves me.”
“Not the way he loves me,” I snarled.
“Is that so? Adonis, tell Persephone how much you love me.”
He grimaced, not meeting either of our stares. At last he slipped from Aphrodite’s grip, and taking his net, he splashed toward shore without a word.
Fine. If he wouldn’t defend himself, then I would.
“See? He can’t even answer you,” I said, drawing myself up to my full height. “He loves me without trickery, and if I were here to spend time with him—”
“But you aren’t,” said Aphrodite. “Don’t you see that? Hephaestus knows about my affairs—he knows this is something I need in order to be myself, and he accepted that long before we married. But Hades didn’t. Despite everything you’ve done to him, he loves you. He’s loved you for so long that it’s as much a part of him as the Underworld is now. And even though you have his unconditional, endless love, you have no problem turning your back on him and hurting him in the worst ways possible.”
I opened my mouth to speak, fury building inside me faster than I could release it, but she kept going. She stood only inches in front of me now, her nose practically touching mine, and it took everything I had not to throttle her.
“You’re selfish, Persephone. You’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met. You hurt Demeter. You hurt Hermes. You hurt Hades so badly that he’s nothing more than a ghost of who he was before you ripped his heart out and fed it to the dogs. You hurt people again and again, and the worst part about it is that you don’t care. You can claim to love Adonis all you want, but he’ll never have all of you. And one day, you’re going to hurt him the way you’ve hurt everyone else in your life, and I won’t let that happen.”
I stared at her, every word I’d planned to fling back in her face dissolving on my tongue. In spite of her many flaws, Aphrodite knew love, and she knew people. She could see the good side and the bad, and she, more than any of us, could weigh them against each other rather than rushing to judgment. And if that’s how the most understanding of us saw me—
Maybe it was our battle over Adonis. Maybe it was my constant jealousy. Maybe she just wanted to win. But even so, she still wouldn’t say those things if she didn’t believe them.
The weight of her words crashed down around me, leaving me shaking and exposed and vulnerable in a way I’d never been before. Was that what the entire council thought of me? Was that how Hades saw me? And Mother—did she believe it, too?
Were they right?
“I—” I swallowed. “I need to go.” Stepping back, I mustered what little strength I had left and said, “Cut him loose, Aphrodite. Give him his freedom. If you really love him…” I shook my head, and without giving her the chance to rub salt in my already gaping wound, I disappeared back to the Underworld. Back to Hades.
Back where I belonged.
* * *
I stayed in the observatory for the rest of the night, not bothering to go to my chambers. Hades wouldn’t notice, and on the remote chance he did decide to come visit me, I needed to be alone.
I turned Aphrodite’s words over in my mind again and again without reprieve. She was right, and I hated myself for it. I hated myself for every bit of it. But at the same time, she didn’t understand—she didn’t see the whole picture, the life I’d lived and the things I’d missed, things she’d never wanted for. She was loved wherever she went by everyone who set eyes on her. Me—I was the dreaded Queen of the Underworld. I was the person no one wanted to see, and when I did run across the rare mortal on the surface, they all fled. Except Adonis.
To Aphrodite, he was nothing more than an exceptionally beautiful toy, but to me, he was everything I’d never had before. She didn’t understand that—how could she, when her world was saturated with love? She would never be alone. She would never face an eternity of loneliness and heartache. But that was my reality, and no matter how good a judge of character she was, it simply wasn’t in her capacity to understand that.
By the time morning came, I itched with the need to defend myself. For a few minutes, I debated going up to the surface and giving her a piece of my mind, but it wouldn’t do any good right now. I needed her to understand, and in order to make that happen, my argument had to be perfect.
I dragged myself to the throne room at the appointed time, and when Hades trudged down the aisle, I was already seated in my throne. The way he eyed me confirmed he knew I hadn’t spent the night in my chambers, and I made a mental note to straighten that out later. He deserved the truth. And an apology.
At last the judgments got under way. They were routine, for the most part—mortals who hadn’t believed in the afterlife, or mortals who had believed, but had never anticipated what it might be like. A few children mixed in with the adults as well, and those judgments always hurt the most, seeing their young lives over before they’d begun. Hades and I had agreed long ago that they would always be granted their happiest memories regardless of whatever hell a handful of them thought they deserved.
The throne room was full that day, and by the time evening came, we’d barely made it through half. Hades and I had other duties as well, of course, but neither of us halted the proceedings. I stole a glance at him, searching for signs of fatigue, but he was as stoic as ever. And I was too keyed up from my fight with Aphrodite to stop, either.
A woman moved to the spot before us where countless other souls had stood. Her hair was long and stringy, and her hands shook as she regarded us with a wavering gaze.
“I know that because of my misdeeds, I am to be banished to an eternity of fire and brimstone to dance with the devil himself,” she said, her voice shaking as much as her hands. “But I beg of you—I only acted out of love.”
