She nodded, her mind reeling with confusion. “But–”
“No,” he shook his head, his hands clasping her upper arms. “You must not. I fear the consequences of such a thing.”
“’Tis an apple,” she protested.
His mouth twitched, but his fingers tightened about her arms. “An apple grown here, in the realm of the Dead. It is by the Fates’ decree…”
She touched his cheek. “Peace, Hades. I will not eat. I need no more explanation than that.”
But she wondered at the wariness upon his face as he urged them to return to his home.
###
“I cannot, Father.” Ione grasped his hands, kneeling in front of Erysichthon. “Please, please do not make me do this.”
“Make you?” His words were hard. “Where is the dutiful daughter I raised? After what I have done for you… Need I remind you of my generosity, child? Remind you that I took you in when your husband discarded you?”
“He discarded me for fear of incurring Olympus’ wrath. After you cut Demeter’s trees he had no choice–”
“So you blame me for his weakness?” He pulled his hands from hers and stood. Was no one faithful anymore? Did none value fealty? “You would desert me too?” Erysichthon did not look at her. “My own daughter?”
His eyes swept the room. Leaves blew across the unkempt marble floor. The candles had long since burned down, leaving the room in shadows, but no servants remained to change them. No one was left to serve him. Those soldiers that had returned he’d sent searching, always searching…
He winced as his empty belly clenched. He turned, staring at the weariness on his once beloved child’s face.
“I’m… I’m sorry, Father.” She stood, coming to his side. Her face was thinner, her eyes shadowed. “I’ve done all that you’ve asked of me, have I not?”
He nodded, his hand cupping her cheek. “You are a good daughter, Ione, when you choose to be.”
Her lower lip wavered then, reminding him of Persephone. Could he find no reprieve from her memory? He shook his head, groaning as his bowels twisted within him.
“I am a good daughter. Your daughter,” she cried, her voice hitching. “Flesh of your flesh, your only child... and you sell me… for…for bread and wine…”
“I must keep my strength and wits about me.” He scowled at her.
“There must be another way–”
“I’ve never sold you for whoring, Ione, only as servant. You’ve no need to act so affronted. You should be pleased. I never thought you capable of finding a champion in Poseidon…” He broke off, the ache in his stomach overwhelming him.
“He is no champion.” Her voice was bitter. “He demands payment, I assure you.” She grabbed his arm, steadying him as he bent low from the spasms.
He smiled, amused. “You are… a comely woman, Ione. If Poseidon wants you–”
Her voice trembled. “He did, when first we met. He had certain… expectations of me once he’d helped me leave that brutal fisherman’s wife. But when he knew who I was, whose daughter I was…” She shook her head. “It troubled him to look at me.”
“And yet, he helps you still.” Erysichthon sighed, growing annoyed with his daughter’s complaints.
“And each time his patience thins; I see it. Three times he’s returned me to you… I’d almost welcome his advances if it replaced the anger within him–”
“Then you must try harder. Soothe him. Woo him, entice him, seduce him, child. He will help you again.” Erysichthon cut her off, pulling his arm from her hold. “One last time, for I know where Persephone is.”
Ione froze. “Truly?”
He nodded, smiling. “This will be the last time, I promise. Once she is returned, all will be well. You will see.”
The sympathy in his daughter’s eyes irked him. He needed no pity.
“Persephone will speak to her mother?” Ione asked doubtfully. “See the curse removed?”
“She will.” He spat out the words, scowling at her. “Why do you question me so, child? When have I ever failed you? When? Never. Even now, when times are… troubled, have you not returned to me each time, in good health?”
She nodded.
“Then give me thanks. Honor me. It is through my suffering that you’ve found a lover in the God of the Seas himself. My daughter, favored by the great Poseidon.”
She shook her head. “As I said, he does not favor me... He said he must help me to ease his part in this matter…”
“What matter?”
“He did not say. And I dare not question him, not when he has come to my aid.” Her lovely face looked haggard. “I dare not rouse the fury I see within his pale gaze, Father. He frightens me–”
“Frightens you? A robust lover, then?” He smiled, patting her cheek. “He favors you or he would not continue to help you.” He nodded, regarding his daughter with narrowed eyes. “And you would be wise submit to him again and hold his interest as long as you can.” His hands pressed against his stomach, the pain forcing another groan from him.
She stared at him with wide eyes. “Look at you, Father. Look at what has become of us. Of your people… Our home. Thessaly is ravaged, as is your body… and mind. I have lost my husband through your blasphemy.” Her tone was pleading. “I have lost my pride, sold into servitude three times, and… used by Poseidon to appease your hunger. And now you would encourage me to sacrifice my dignity again… For what?”
“You complain like an old woman. It’s unlike you. And will not help you keep your Poseidon.” He clasped her shoulders. “You shall have your God and I shall have my Goddess, soon.”
She shook her head. “Where is she, then? Where is your precious Persephone? And why haven’t you gone to get her yet?”
He ignored her disbelief and patted her cheek. “She is with Hades. It was he who took her from me on the battlefield.”
She stared at him. “Hades? You cannot go… How will you bring her home?”
He smiled, rubbing his hands together. “Find me food, Ione, and I will tell you my plan.”
###
“I am victor.” Persephone beamed at Hades.
He’d not let her win, this time. She was quick, grasping the game and trouncing him gleefully. He sat back with a smile. “You are.”
She sat forward, setting her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hand. She moved the small carved gray pieces back into place. Her braid fell forward, brushing his hand on the game board before she looked up at him. “Shall we play again?”
His hand burned. He shook his head. “Enough Tavli.”
“Shall we walk?”
It infuriated him to know he would be happy to sit here, staring into her green eyes. How easily she’d come to be the most important part of his day… He leaned into the side of his chair, watching her fingers move over the game pieces. She was the reason he woke, full of anticipation, each morning. He was too eager to spend time with her. He savored their walks or their quiet companionship. Everything about her pleased him. Her presence eased some ache within him, an ache that he’d always known, causing him much bewilderment… and exhilaration.
“Shall I sing for you?” She placed the last piece then sat back, tucking her knees under her.
He cocked his head. “What would you sing of?”
She tapped her finger to her lips as she thought, drawing his gaze to her full mouth.
“I know.” Her face grew animated as she spoke, “The song of the trees.”
“The trees sing?” he asked.
She shook her head, sighing. “Of course they do. Though the language might be too old for even your ears.”
He laughed as she stood to retrieve the lyre Hermes had delivered. She could play well enough, but her voice… her voice wrapped about him more sweetly than any binding.
She opened her mouth, the words washing over him. She was wrong; he knew this song. He bit back his smile. He smiled too much in her presence.
He sat back, allow
ing himself the pleasure of watching her. Her eyes closed, as they always did when she sang, and her brows lifted. The higher the note, the higher her brows went. Her braid slipped from her shoulder, pushing the fabric with it. Her golden skin begged for his touch, he felt the pull of it upon his fingers…
His eyes met hers. The song was over.
He cleared his throat.
“A story?” she asked.
He lifted a brow, nodding slightly. “You owe me a story.”
He saw her hesitate, her eyes flashing at his. She shook her head then, smiling at him with unconcealed merriment. “I do. Well then, what will you hear? Would you hear of Gaia and her children? How mortal man came about?” She tilted her head as she spoke, waiting for his answer.
“Mortals hold little interest for me.”
She nodded, sitting up. “It is said that before order was found, chaos reigned. In it, all was knotted together. The elements of life, earth, sea, and sky ran seamlessly with no beginning or end. But chaos gave way to creation, for the elements’ need for order would not be denied. And from their seed the land took shape. Soil turned thick and rich, birthing all things green and clean. It rose and fell, etching valleys and jutting high above as the peaks of great mountains. The seas filled with water, overflowing into the lakes, rivers, and marshes and feeding the soil and its children. The sky, struck by such beauty, stretched as wide as it could… drawing the earth and seas into an encompassing embrace. It rained when the seas ran shallow, it shone when the earth was too wet, and it thundered when the earth’s children should be scolded.”
He listened, hearing the words with new ears. She painted their history with such a gentle brush. “What of the stars?” he asked softly.
She reached up, unbraiding her hair and running her fingers through its silken locks as she continued. “The sky could not bear to lose sight of the earth or the seas. The sky drew the stars forth, to light the skies and ease the fear of night’s darkness. Well pleased, the three wanted to share their bounty. Fish found water, birds found the sky and the beast of the field were content upon the earth.”
Hades looked at her. Her copper hair hung free, falling about her shoulders in the fading sunlight. She gazed off into the distance, lost in thought. Her shoulder, smooth and gold, caught his eye again. The moon had come and gone since he’d last touched her. And yet he could still feel her beneath his hand. He fisted his hand, tearing his gaze from her.
“Is that how you imagine it?” he asked her.
She turned to him, brows raised in consideration. He could tell her thoughts without her words, her face hid nothing. If he was uncertain, her eyes told the rest.
“Why not? It is a peaceful tale.” She smiled. “I am fond of peace.”
He nodded. “As am I. Even the mortals seem eager for it. I only hope it will hold.”
“Is there news? I know Hermes has come and gone since last I saw him. I see the boats passing by and know their purpose. How fares Greece?”
He sighed. “It is over. Persia met defeat at Salamis. The enemy flees, but they leave true destruction in their wake.”
“It is some comfort that they do go?”
He nodded.
Hermes carried news that disturbed him. The champion Ariston was soon to meet an ill fate, if Olympus did not intercede. And he knew better than to hope for such benevolence. Greece was done with the soldier, soon Olympus would be too. It was the loss of his wife, so ill used and cast aside, that concerned him most.
“What troubles you?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I pity them.”
“Mortals?”
He nodded. “Their lives are not their own.”
She pulled her legs into her chair, resting her chin on her knees. “No?”
His eyes found hers. “Olympus interferes. Too many souls cross over because they’ve lost favor with the Gods.”
“You see gaining the Gods’ favor as unfortunate as losing favor?” Her brow furrowed at his words.
“I am too jaded to answer well.” He paused, considering. “If I likened those on Olympus to those toiling aimlessly in Tartarus, you’d think ill of me. But there are times I see that idleness about them. Mortals are but a piece of the game.” He clasped the Tavli dice, tossing it in his hand. “Such is the case with the mortal I returned.”
“The soldier? The hero of Greece? But Olympus was well pleased with your decision. Hermes and my mother spoke of your … reward for such action.”
Hades stared at her, wondering if she knew he’d rejected his reward. He hoped she did. “He’s served his purpose. And now he will return to me, more broken that he was before. He will lose his beloved wife not once, but twice, at the hands of our brethren. And his lady wife, sacrificing all to keep her husband safe, will be lost forever in Tartarus…” He heard her sharp intake of breath at the mortal woman’s fate. “This honorable man will never find the peace we speak of.”
He could feel the unflinching weight of her eyes upon him. He’d said too much, revealed too much.
“Oh, Hades.” Her voice was unsteady and she shook her head. When he looked at her, he was startled by the tears sparkling in her eyes. “Such an end, after enduring so much? I share in your grief.”
He shrugged, not daring to say more. It was a puzzle he’d not yet answered, but he would find a way to appease the Gods, the Fates and himself.
Persephone watched him, her lovely face lined with worry. “Such sadness.” Her whispered words were anguished. “I do not envy you such matters. But I am in awe of your sense of justice. A lesser being might use the wealth you mine, the shades you govern, for selfish purposes.”
“I have no interest in power, Persephone. My only interest is order. I have order in my realm and I do what I must to maintain it.” But her praise warmed him, deeply.
“’Tis a shame such order cannot be taught to those in the Land of the Living. Or Olympus.” She smiled at him, then looked down at the Tavli board, her voice lowering, “We must hope that Greece will find some time for peace. In peace, one might find the time to establish order.”
He swallowed. “Will you go, then?” He knew she would. He’d kept her too long already. He tossed the dice onto the board and sat back. He did not care for the tightening in his chest. He’d expected Demeter to come for her long before now.
Persephone did not look at him, but picked up the Tavli dice he’d discarded and studied them. “I suppose I have little choice. My mother has undoubtedly found me a new husband to wed.”
He said nothing. Her words cut deeply, for they were the truth.
She put the dice down and stood. “Though why she insists on such a course of action, I cannot fathom,” she mused, glancing at him over her shoulder.
He stood too, coming to her side. “She would protect you.”
“I am an Olympian.”
“One who does not reside on Olympus.”
“Yet she would see me married to Hermes.”
He glanced at her. “Hermes is the best of them. He is a wise match.”
“But he refused me. And no other will have me, so it seems. And she sent me to Erysichthon.” She drew in a deep breath.
“Who was, by all accounts, a good and capable man–”
“Until he went mad, you mean?” She glanced at him with arched eyebrows.
He bit back a smile, shrugging. She had a sharp wit, a good mind. He enjoyed their talks, for she did not shy away from plain speaking.
Persephone waved her hand, dismissing her question. “I know she longs to see me safe. But I hunger for more. Surely there is someone who might care for me? Not the power I bring, as an Olympian and Goddess.” She looked at him, sincerely asking, “Is it foolish to wish for such things? Is it foolish for me to want to look upon my husband with fondness?”
Her words pressed heavily upon him. She deserved such a husband, if he existed. He met her gaze, unable to offer her the assurance she sought. “’Tis a good dream, Persephone.”
; “A dream?” She looked crestfallen. “Only a dream? So I should go home and accept whomever my mother has found for me. Is that what you think?”
He held his breath. Her words were soft, but each struck him. He did not want her to go. He would have her stay here with him, play Tavli, share stories, walk his realm, and laugh over shared meals. But he knew better.
He nodded.
She scowled at him. “Then summon Hermes, I implore you. I bid you good night.”
He watched her go, admiring her graceful movement and the sway of her fiery hair. He waited until she’d left, then sank into his chair and let his head fall into his hands. He must prepare himself. It had been too long since he’d felt anything. And yet she’d given him no choice.
The pain of her leaving would be near unbearable.
Chapter Thirteen
Persephone had not slept at all. Each time she closed her eyes, she’d imagined him coming to her. Words of love had been on his lips while his body had been most eager to show her his ardor.
“More dreams,” she muttered to the empty room, pushing the furs from her legs angrily.
She draped her tunic about her, tying it once, and combed her hair. Her head ached mildly, so she left it loose and headed to the hall. They took their breakfast on the balcony, enjoying the warm sun and pale blue sky.
“Good morning,” she greeted him, taking an ambrosia cake.
He nodded at her, his face almost hostile. She blinked, startled by the ferocity of his gaze.
“I’m needed elsewhere,” he murmured as he left her.
The cake she had chewed seemed to stick in her throat. She watched his progress from the rail as he crossed the heavy stone bridge and made his way across Asphodel. Her frustration rose up, demanding she call out to him. But she knew better.
He stopped suddenly, and turned back.
She hesitated, taking in his posture rigid with apprehension, before raising her hand. She felt close to tears, but forced a smile to her lips.
He turned away and disappeared behind the boulders around Tartarus’ entrance.
She sighed. Her words had been rash but she’d been angry. She was still angry.
For the Love of Hades (The Loves of Olympus) Page 15
