The Goddess Test Boxed Set: Goddess Interrupted\The Goddess Inheritance\The Goddess Legacy (92 page)

At last I made it to the throne room. A few feet from the
portal, Hades waited with Hermes, who wore a bewildered expression. As I
stumbled onto the crystal circle, Hades moved to join me, but Hermes darted in
front of him, blocking his way. Whatever his reason was, I didn't have time to
find out. I dropped from Olympus, the wind rushing through my hair and whipping
it across my face.

Freedom. And free-falling, apparently. I'd never used a portal
by myself, and I opened my mouth in a silent scream. So maybe not waiting for
Hades hadn't been the best idea, but I would've rather plummeted to earth than
let him join me.

I expected a crash landing, the sort that would leave an
indentation in the ground for curious mortals to ponder, but as my feet touched
the earth, I stopped. No hard landing. No real impact. I didn't even leave
footprints on the grass.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I ran my fingers through my tangled
hair and looked around. I stood in a meadow full of purple flowers that danced
in the breeze, and it was warm despite the late hour of wherever it was I'd
landed. A beautiful summer evening.

Why couldn't Hades live on the surface? Why did he have to be
near his subjects at all times? Zeus certainly wasn't. I sat down heavily in the
middle of the field, passing my hand through the tall grass. This was my home,
surrounded by warmth and nature and life. Not encased in stone.

The wind picked up for a moment, and something rustled behind
me. Hades, no doubt, coming to reclaim me and drag me back to that dark place. I
refused to turn around. He couldn't have me, not anymore.

“Persephone?”

I exhaled. Not Hades. “Hermes? What are you doing here?”

“You're upset,” he said as he moved to sit in front of me. We'd
grown up together, babies compared to the rest of the council, and seeing him
now made me more homesick than ever. “Did Hades hurt you?”

He was the first person to acknowledge that maybe this wasn't
my fault, and my heart swelled in gratitude. “N-no.” I hiccupped. “I just—I
can't go back.”

He took my hands, his fingers smooth and cool. That small
gesture of affection was enough to make me break down all over again, and I
rested my head on his shoulder as I cried. I hated feeling like this—I hated not
having the courage to give Hades a chance. But it wasn't him. It was the feeling
of being suffocated, smothered, burned out before I'd had the chance to live.
Why hadn't I questioned my parents earlier? Why hadn't I demanded a chance to
get to know Hades and the Underworld better? Why hadn't they given me a
choice?

Because they'd known what I would say if they had. They must
have. Mother knew me better than I knew myself, and my trust in her—the same
trust that had made me take the plunge into this marriage—was too absolute for
me to question it before. Even now I second-guessed myself. Was I being hasty?
Should I give Hades a chance? Did I even have a choice?

No, and that only made me cry harder. I didn't have a choice.
Whether I liked it or not, I would have to return to the Underworld. Unless—

My eyes flew open, and I sat up. Hermes straightened as well,
but I spoke before he could utter a word. “Run away with me.”

His lips formed a perfect circle. “What?”

“You heard me. Run away with me. We can go someplace they'll
never find us, like Aphrodite and Ares did, and—and we can be
happy
.”

“Wait.” He pulled away from me. “You mean you want—you and
me—”

I shivered. After last night, I never wanted to have that sort
of relationship with anyone ever again. “No, I mean—as friends. Brother and
sister, whatever we are.” We weren't, technically, since Zeus had taken
different forms to father us and we had different mothers. But I needed someone
else to love me. I didn't care what kind of love it was, as long as it meant I
could get away from Hades. “Please.”

Hermes hesitated, and I could see the wheels turning in his
head. Hope blossomed inside my chest, pushing aside the coldness and despair. He
was considering it. He was really considering it.

“Persephone…” He took my hands in his again. “You know I want
nothing more than to see you happy, but Zeus already forbade anyone from
interfering with your marriage. If we left, Zeus and Hades would both hunt us
down, and I'd get a lightning bolt to the skull for sure.”

My heart sank, and that delicate bubble of hope deflated. “He
really ordered everyone not to help me?”

Hermes nodded. “I'm sorry. But maybe you and Hades could talk
it out. You could just be his queen and not his wife, right? He needs you to
help him rule, not warm his bed.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting another wave of tears. I was
never getting out of this. Not now, not in a thousand years, not ever. Not as
long as Zeus treated me like property and Hades went along with him. “He would
never agree,” I whispered.

“So don't give him a choice.” Hermes tucked a lock of hair
behind my ear, his touch so gentle that I shifted closer. “Just tell him. You're
stronger than you think you are, Persephone. Never question that. You can do
whatever you set your mind to, circumstances be damned.”

“I wish—” My voice broke, and I swallowed thickly. “I wish I
were like Aphrodite. I wish I had the strength to do what she did.”

“Maybe someday you will,” he said. “You just need to find the
right person is all. If Hades isn't it, then there's nothing wrong with that.
This doesn't have to be forever if you don't want it to be.”

I snorted despite myself. “Everything in our family is
forever.”

“Only the good things,” he said. “We usually find a way to fix
the bad ones.”

“Don't see how anyone would agree to let me off the hook if I
don't even try.”

“Then try. Do whatever you have to do to prove to yourself and
the rest of the council that it isn't a good fit.”

“Hades will never let me go,” I mumbled. “Not now, not in a
hundred years, not ever. He loves me.”

“If he really loves you, then once he understands how miserable
you are, he will let you go,” said Hermes. “Just because he's a good guy doesn't
mean he's a good guy for you.”

I shook my head. “You can say all the pretty things you want,
but that won't change anything.”

“You're right,” he said. “The only one who can change any of
this is you. You just have to try.”

“But I already did.”

“I know. They should've listened.” He pulled me into a hug. The
weight of his arms around my shoulders was a comfort, and I managed to relax
against him. At least I had someone on my side.

A moment later, the breeze picked up again, and I sensed a
second presence in the meadow. The sun dipped beneath the horizon, and Hermes
stiffened. I didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

“Please,” I whispered one last desperate time. “I'll do
anything.”

“I can't. I'm sorry.” Hermes's voice was low and his words
rushed. “Listen—I'll visit you all the time, I promise. You won't be alone. Just
do me a favor and give yourself a chance, all right? Do whatever you have to do
to be happy, even if that means upsetting the council. They've already had their
say. Now it's your turn.”

I pressed my lips together. Being that kind of selfish went
against everything Mother had taught me. Be there for others; place their
happiness above my own; be content with my life; don't be greedy or envious or
unkind; appreciate the warmth and love around me, and don't covet what I don't
have.

But how could I appreciate what wasn't there? Hades may have
loved me, but what did that mean if I couldn't feel it? He could love me more
than anyone loved anyone else in the entire world, and it still wouldn't help if
I didn't love him back. Maybe in time I would adjust and grow to love him, but
right now, all I could think about was the rock weighing down on me and the
feeling of Hades's body over mine. And I didn't have the patience to wait.

“Promise me, Persephone,” whispered Hermes, and at last I
nodded.

“I promise.”

Behind me, something—rather, someone—cast a shadow over me with
what little daylight remained, and I shivered. “Hades.”

“I am sorry to interrupt,” he said quietly, and there was
something about the way he said it that made me think he really was. “If I could
speak with you alone, Persephone?”

Hermes nodded, and before I could protest, he untangled himself
from me and stood. “I'll see you around,” he said to me, and at least I knew he
wasn't just saying that. At sixteen, he was training for his role on the
council, as I was, and part of that included guiding the dead down to the
Underworld. Chances were good I'd see him often, and that one reminder was
enough for me to breathe easier. It wouldn't be just me and Hades down there. I
had to remember that.

Once Hermes walked off into the woods, Hades knelt beside me.
His long, dark hair, usually so impeccable, was mussed, and his fingers dug into
his thighs. “I owe you an apology.”

Not this again. “You don't owe me anything,” I mumbled, staring
down at a lopsided blossom. “I'm sorry I ran up here.”

“Do not be,” he said. Neither of us could look at the other.
“What happened last night…I promise you it will not happen again, not unless we
are both willing and prepared.”

His words twisted something in my gut. I'd been willing last
night. Nervous, but willing, and determined to get it over with. Had he not
been? Had I taken that from him? Was that part of the reason why things were so
terrible between us?

“I don't…” The words stuck in my throat, and I struggled to
swallow them.

Just tell him.

Hermes's voice echoed through my mind, gentle but unyielding,
and finally I opened my mouth and blurted, “I want a separate bedroom.”

Hades blinked, clearly startled. “Is there something wrong
with—”

“Yes,” I said before I lost my nerve. “I'm scared of you. I'm
scared of this. And if I can't stay up here, then I don't want to stay with you
down there.”

He stared at me, speechless. For the better part of a minute,
his eyes searched mine, and I refused to look away. I couldn't back down no
matter how much it hurt him. Maybe this was a step in the wrong direction, maybe
this was exactly what we didn't need, but I needed a space of my own. If I
stayed with him, I would crumble. And I rather thought he would, too.

“All right,” he said, his voice cracking. “If that is what you
want…”

“It is,” I said. “I'm your queen, and I'll rule at your side as
much as you need me to. But if you want me at my best, then I can't be your
wife. Not yet. Not until things are better.”

For the briefest of moments, his expression shifted into pain
and self-loathing, and guilt rushed through me as I nearly took it back. I could
try. I had it in me. But even as I opened my mouth, that wall reared up inside
me again, forming a barrier between us so strong that no amount of guilt could
break it. I couldn't be his wife. Not now. Not if I wanted to have any chance of
surviving this.

“Someday they will be,” I said. “We can work toward it.
Just—give me a chance to adjust, okay? And in the meantime, we'll be
friends.”

His expression relaxed enough to let me know I'd said something
right. “Very well. We are friends.”

Hades stood, offering me his hand, and I reluctantly accepted.
Not because I needed his help, but because he needed some small amount of hope.
I couldn't crush him completely.

“I want you to be happy,” he said as the warm breeze danced
around us. “From the moment your mother introduced us, my joy was tied with
yours, and I promise you that despite my mistakes, everything I do is to please
you.”

I nodded, wishing I could say the same. But my happiness was my
own, and I couldn't be responsible for his, as well. “Thank you,” I said
quietly. “Before going back, could we go somewhere warmer and walk around a
little?” It was dusk here by now, but it was still morning back home, and I was
desperate to feel the sun on my skin again.

“Of course.” He slipped his hand into my elbow, and while that
small amount of contact was enough to make my skin prickle, I didn't pull away.
I hated the resentment and anger that prevented me from loving him the way he
loved me, but no matter what Hermes said, I lacked the strength to conquer it.
All I could do was open myself up to my new life and hope that in the end, it
would be enough.

* * *

I tried.

I tried harder than I'd ever tried anything before. Every
morning I let Hades bring me breakfast in my new bedroom two doors down from
his. Every day I forced chitchat as he taught me more and more about what it
meant to rule the Underworld. Every evening I sat with him as we read or talked
about our shared day, and I tried so damn hard to love him that as time passed,
I grew more and more certain that one day my heart would burst.

But the wall of resentment inside me didn't budge. Nothing
Hades did or said wore it down, and no matter how hard I tried to work around
it, it was always there. It was as if someone had cursed me into never falling
in love, or at least never falling in love with Hades. We'd been friends before
this, as much as we could've been, but even that was gone. Every tie that
connected us had been severed, and that wall in my chest blocked every attempt I
made to create new ones.

I was stuck.
We
were stuck.
Whenever I looked at Hades, I could see the pain he carried with him, building
up slowly from our restrained time together. But how could I explain my
unnatural hatred toward him? Wouldn't it hurt him more if I told him that I
didn't want anything to do with him? That I hated him so much it physically hurt
me?