“He thinks he will lock himself in Tartarus, Olive. He thinks that I would meekly accept his demise as I would the setting of the sun. I will not! I will protect him if he will not protect himself. He deserves someone to protect him.” To love him, she thought. Olive’s nose nudged against her leg. “Exactly, Olive. Now we get to work.”
She spent the rest of the afternoon mixing the potion. It was a complex spell and Persephone wrote it out several times, ensuring she could follow the steps precisely. Too weak an elixir and he would wake up too soon… too strong an elixir and he would never wake up at all. She counted the steps in her head as she went: a forward stir five times, six counter stirs, four leaves of the poppy, a hair of the drinker, ten forward stirs, twenty counter stirs, four leaves of the poppy. The hours passed as she hovered over the boiling pot, stepping away from it when the fumes overpowered her, and by the time she finished, her hair curled around her face in damp strands. The drought was a perfect red and now she just needed to make him drink it. He had forbidden her from entering his rooms again but he needed to be near his bed when the spell took effect. She must simply disobey him. Setting the elixir and the remainder of the poppies out of sight, she called Jocasta to her room. The maid started at the sight of Persephone’s hair but did not utter a word as the Queen instructed her to set up dinner for her husband and herself in his bedroom. Jocasta’s beatific smile made Persephone’s breath hitch, the servant obviously thought things were going well between them. She could not know of course that Persephone planned to slip a potent sleeping draught into the king’s wine to keep her husband from going insane. After helping to arrange the dinner, Jocasta returned and assisted Persephone as she placed a red gown over her head. The center was diaphanous gold and thin strips of red cloth covered her breasts and arms, billowing around her legs. As Jocasta left the room, Persephone hurried to pick up the vial of potion and tucked it into the folds of her dress, then went in search of her husband.
She saw that the golden doors of his room stood open and Hades leaned against the doorway talking in low tones to Charon. “Escort them to Elysium,” his voice drifted across the hall to her. As always, Charon’s face was hidden from view, but her husband’s face was lit by sconces in the hallway. He was wraith-like in his dark robes, his pale skin almost white against the blackness of the high collar. Persephone took a step closer and his black eyes shifted to hers. “That is all I think, Charon.” The River Guide left and Hades merely continued to watch her, his back against the door.
“I thought I told you not to come back,” he said quietly.
“And you thought I would listen? I do not think you could ever call me a dutiful wife.”
“No indeed,” he murmured, “I would not. Why are you here Persephone?”
She began to edge closer to him, her eyes fixed on his. “I wanted to see you, one last time, before things… change. It is safe tonight. You said the planets would not shift until tomorrow. Let me stay.” Her voice was soft, conjuling in the darkly lit hall. She watched as his eyes followed the outline of her breasts in her gown and she could see the internal struggle in his mind as he fought with what he wanted and what he thought was right. Please Hades, her mind whispered.
He looked up then, searching her eyes. “This is the last time, Persephone. Do you have your knife?” She nodded her head. “Fine. Come into my crypt.” He did not move from the doorway and she brushed past him as she entered.
Surveying the room she saw that Jocasta had indeed set a scene for seduction. The table was laid with decadent foods, their intoxicating aromas filling the room. Roses and candlelight had transformed the chamber into a romantic garden and the soft light played across his dark face, and she felt it again, the twinge in her chest. If only tonight were as simple as a wife loving her husband. Her hands shook as she took the goblets and filled them with wine and then tipped the elixir into her husband’s glass. She turned quickly and was relieved to see he still stood near the doorway, watching her. With a smile she brought his goblet to him and took a tentative sip of her own.
“I thought there was some mistake, when Jocasta told me that my wife had requested us to dine together, since our interactions usually involved you running away.” Involved, her mind repeated the word, digesting it, rejecting it. Past tense, like their time had already come and gone, that this brief interlude was already over. The thought was like a dagger in her heart and the surprise of her emotions made her breathless. Persephone stepped closer and pressed her fingers against his lips, shaking her head. She did not want to hear bitter words tonight, too much time had already been spent in anger.
“Please,” she whispered, “not tonight. I do not want to fight tonight. I just want to be with you. Okay?”
He stared down at her. “Okay,” he said softly, his lips moving against her fingers. “No fighting tonight.” She reluctantly let her fingertips drop, enjoying the smooth touch of his lips against them. “You look lovely,” he muttered, his eyes travelling down her length again. “I am a lucky man to spend the evening with such a Goddess.” Hades went to his dresser and ruffled through it, finally pulling out a necklace. “This goes with your gown.” He held it against the light and tiny red stones glittered in the golden chain.
“It is beautiful,” she said, fingering it gently. Are they rubies?”
“They are pomegranate seeds,” he replied. "From the first tree of the Underworld." He lifted his eyes to hers and wordless understanding passed between them. She knew how much that necklace must have meant to him, set with the seeds of the tree that grew from his mother’s blood. He walked up behind her and fastened the chain around her neck and she felt his breath against her hair. His body tightened suddenly and he moved swiftly to the opposite end of the table.“Charon told me you did well today. In the throne room,” he said quickly, his breaths coming in short gasps.
“Thank you.” She felt warmth fill her at his praise. “I did what I thought was right, what my heart told me was the truth. The Judges did not approve of my decisions, I am afraid.”
He smiled. “They seldom approved of mine when I first started. They will learn to respect you as you deserve. You are their Queen.” He gestured for her to sit and once she did he approached the table, moving slowly towards his chair as he placed his goblet before him. She knew she was looking too much at his cup and she forced her eyes down to her plate, raising them again when he sat.
“Why did you choose Theo and Rastus for me?”
His eyes lingered lovingly on her breasts and then rose to her eyes.
“Ah, but I did not choose Rastus for you to judge. You chose him yourself.”
She gave him a ferocious look. “Certainly you would have known I would judge Rastus after hearing the crime he committed!
“Perhaps,” he replied. “I make it a habit not to know too many things. We do not even know ourselves completely.”
“You did not answer my question,” she said.
He lifted the goblet and her heart stuttered, but he paused at her words. “I was tired, and he was the last prisoner of the day. I knew he would be good practice for you.”
“I could have judged more prisoners,” she said, frowning at him. “There was no need to tire yourself.”
“Next time, I promise, you will have the whole list.” His eyes were luminous in the light as he watched her. “Why did you let Theo go?
“He loved his wife -- enough to die for her, enough to live for her. He deserved a second chance.”
Hades looked at the necklace beating to the rhythm of her heart and only nodded. Eager to get him to drink, Persephone lifted her glass in the air and said, “To my first day dealing judgment.” They toasted and sipped from their cups and Hades watched her as he drank, his eyes never leaving her face.
“Have you decided on what you will do tomorrow?” she asked.
“Charon and I discussed that. In the morning I will be locked in Tartarus. The doors shall remain closed until this transit in the sky passes. Wha
t he finds once he retrieves me will determine what happens from there.”
She stiffened in her chair. “And you made this decision with the help of your old friend rather than your wife?
“Persephone,” he murmured, “I thought you did not want to fight tonight? There is no other choice, you know that.”
She tried to smile at him, but found her lips could not seem to make the movement. “You are right, I am sorry. Is the wine not to your liking? I can bring you another glass.”
He shook his head. “Tomorrow I will need the full power of my mind, whatever remains of it. Wine dulls the senses and arouses those I do not need aroused.”
She blushed at his words even as she bit back a sigh of frustration. Looking up she saw his eyes moving over her and she suddenly knew how to get him to drink his wine. She stood, keeping her goblet in her hand as she approached him. He looked up at her warily as she crawled into his lap, his body strong and hot beneath hers, and a gasp escaped his lips.
“You are right,” she whispered. “Tomorrow everything will change. Tonight belongs to you and I.” She swallowed the remainder of her wine and his eyes followed a ruby drop as it ran down her mouth and disappeared between her breasts. She picked up his goblet and pushed it against his lips and he let her tilt the liquid into his mouth.
“What are you doing, Persephone?” he asked, his voice edged with pain.
“I do not want to be alone tonight,” she whispered. “Stay with me.”
Her hand raised again to bring the cup up when his hand grasped her wrist. “Your heart is racing. I know this is not what you want.”
She nuzzled her face in his neck, breathing him in and she felt something awaken deep in her body. “Do not presume to know too much,” she whispered in his ear. “Remember?” She bit down on his ear lobe as he had done to hers and she felt him shudder beneath her. “Relax.” This time he let her bring the cup to his lips and he drained the remaining liquid from it and she set the empty goblet on the table.
“Persephone,” he said, drawing his face back to look at her. “Orpheaus passed some time ago. Today I collected his soul and reunited him with Eurydice.”
She stared down at him in shock. Why was he telling her this now? He had travelled to the surface to collect a mortal soul. Why? Was Orpheaus not sentenced to wander, just like her father? “But you said… you said he would be cursed to roam the Earth alone. Why did you change your mind?”
“Because it is what you wanted,” he said, purple ringing his eyes as his gaze met hers, “because I love you.” Before she could respond he brought her head down to his and covered her mouth with his, swallowing her gasp of sorrow. He sipped at her, like he was drinking nectar from her lips, like she was the last promise of hope to a dying man. His mouth moved to her neck, his teeth dragging along her soft flesh and she groaned in pleasure. Lifting his hands he tore the material from her breasts and sat back staring as her nipples hardened in the cool air. She lifted her hands to cover them but he caught her wrists.
“Perfect,” he breathed. And when he closed his mouth over one taut peak, she did nothing to stop him. As his mouth moved to her other breast she felt his hand move against her thigh and touch the wetness between her legs. Gods, she waited for the fear to come, but all she felt was pleasure. He loved her and she...she needed to stop him. She was a liar, manipulating his weakness to get what she wanted. She felt his hands draw up her back, unfastening the small buttons Jocasta had helped her close just hours ago. Surely the potion would take effect soon, how far would she have to take this? He would never forgive her once he learned the reason why she had pursued him. She began to pull away, feeling ashamed that she had taken advantage of his sickness. His hands were hot on her skin as he pulled down the gown, when they suddenly paused against her back. She looked down at his face and she saw the dawn of awareness in his unfocused eyes.
“What was in the wine?” he asked. He stood up suddenly and Persephone fell to the ground, watching aghast as Hades stumbled like a drunken man to the window. She leapt towards him, grasping his arm tightly as he began to fall and half pulled him to the bed. “What did you put in the wine, Persephone?” he demanded again, his words slurring.
“I am sorry,” she whispered, “but you need to sleep.” She gave a sudden cry of pain as she felt his disordered attempt to probe her mind. But she knew, despite his stupor, he had found the memory of her in Hypnos’ cave.
“You lied to me? You drugged me and seduced me and use my feelings for you...” He did not finish his sentence, trying to push himself from the bed, but she forced him gently back down, his powerful body helpless against the lethargy.
“You were going to lock yourself in Tartarus,” she replied fervently. “I could not allow you to sacrifice yourself.”
His head shook on the pillow, his dark hair falling against his face as he groaned. “This will not work, Persephone. Why did you do it?” He reached down to touch his wound and his glazed eyes laughed mirthlessly at the blood staining his fingers. “Why?” he whispered again. “My wound still bleeds. I know it was not love.”
“You will be safe,” she said softly.
“No, Persephone,” he whispered, the bleakness in his voice causing a shiver to run down her spine. “All you have guaranteed is the destruction of me and possibly yourself. There is no honor in what is to come. This will not hold me.”
“You will be safe,” she said again, the tremble in her voice making it a question. She bit her lip as she hurried from the room, returning with a bouquet of poppies. His eyes were closed and she hoped he had fallen asleep but his hand shot out and grasped her wrist, his fingers slack against her skin.
“Get those cursed flowers away from me,” he growled at her. His hand dropped from her suddenly and she grasped his arm, tucking it carefully against his side.
She brushed his dark hair from his face and he pressed his feverish head against her palm. “Rest, my King, rest.” She ran her fingers over his lips and then poured another vial into his mouth watching as a drop of the elixir fell from his lips down onto his pale skin, like blood in the snow. “Forgive me,” she whispered. “Forgive me for everything.” His lips were red from the poppies and she leaned down pressing her mouth against his, tasting the bitter potion against her tongue. “Is it you I distrust, or is it myself? If I were to tell you the truth... If you were not cursed, would you really love me? Could you love me? Could anyone love someone as foolish as I?” She stared down at his dark beautiful face. “You see, it is I who am cursed. I who am not able to love.” She bent again kissing his forehead and then slipped from the room praying that she had done the right thing.
Chapter 19 - The Transit and The Truth
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The transit had finally arrived and Persephone lay in bed, shivering beneath the blankets. She had lain awake all night remembering the look of betrayal in Hades’ eyes. Would he forgive her? Would the potion be enough to keep him safe? Hypnos had seemed gleeful at the thought of the King slumbering and Hades would be locked deeply in his kingdom. She did not trust the God of Sleep anymore than she did Zeus, but there simply had been no other choice. Tartarus was not an option. She pulled herself reluctantly from the bed. Shadows stood out darkly beneath her eyes and she turned impatiently from the mirror, dressing hurriedly. There was much to be done and she had to check on Hades before beginning her day. Leaving Olive tucked in her bed she made her way down the hallway, her footsteps soft on the stone floors. Persephone cracked open the door to her husband's room and she saw his shadowed body thrashing against the sheet.
She moved deeper into the room, disturbed at the violent movements he made in the bed. Surely the poppies were strong enough that he should have been in a deep slumber? His head tossed from one side of the pillow to the other, his black hair matted against his head. She bent down to wipe the sweat from his brow and pulled her hand back quickly with a gasp. His skin burned as if he was on fire. The sheet was thrown to the ground, and his robes we
re loose, revealing the veins running up his neck and lower jawline that were purple, tinged with black along the edges. She watched his chest rise and fall quickly with gasping breaths as if he were a mortal with a fever. She had seen that rapid breathing before, always followed with the inevitable conclusion of death. Was it the curse he was fighting or the stupor of the poppies? What if she had made the draught wrong and poisoned him? She bit her lip anxiously and with a wave of her hand she pulled out a compress from the air composed of lavender and feverfew, gently patting his forehead. His eyes fluttered and she noticed the color looked different, darker than his usual tone. Taking a candle she bent down, pulling the eyelid apart, to inspect his eye. Red and black veins made their way into the center, obscuring the color of his dark iris and she leaned closer. Suddenly his eye flashed purple and looked straight at her before rolling back into his head. She jumped back almost screaming. He had known she was there, she thought, her heart beating wildly in her chest. How was he even partially consciousness? She hurriedly uncorked a vial of elixir she had brought with her and poured more draught down his throat. At this rate she would run out of the potion before evening. The curse appeared to be advancing rapidly. How was he strong enough to fight against Hypnos’ most powerful poppies? She may need to return to Hypnos, but she was afraid if she entered his somniferous cave again she would not leave a second time. She would join that hidden figure that slept deeply in its depths. She watched him for several minutes and breathed a sigh of relief as his body quieted. Reluctantly she turned to leave, knowing that she must complete his tasks to alleviate as many questions about his absence as possible.
Hades And Persephone: Curse Of The Golden Arrow Page 23
