Destroyer of Light (12 page)

“I love you too,” she whispered in answer against the center of his chest. “I love you, Aidoneus, and I’ll be back before you even know I’m gone.”

He chuckled at this and kissed the top of her head, inhaling her scent before he spoke at last. “My love, there will not be a moment you’re gone that I won’t experience deeply. Painfully. I assure you.”

“Only a day…”

“Misery.”

She smacked playfully at his arm. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Aidon! What if it takes two days?”

“Agony,” he smiled, and kissed her forehead.

She laughed. “And three days?”

“Unbearable,” he sighed against her cheek. “Any longer than that, and I’ll split the earth and claim you again.”

His tone was playful, but she sensed the promise behind those words, especially when he tilted his head and claimed her mouth in a passionate coda to their lovemaking. When he separated from her, Persephone rested her hand against Aidon’s cheek. “It won’t take long. After I speak to my mother, she will return everything to—”

“Let us not,” he stroked her hair, “let us not speak about Demeter right now. Let me just enjoy this time with you. Only you.”

They inched to the ground and rested in the grove, sated and blissful. Aidon leaned his back against the tree and Persephone against him, his hand resting lightly against her abdomen. She felt the rise and fall of his chest behind her head. She smiled at the thought of them reclining here as though they did this every day, uncaring that they were as naked as the day they were born. This moment felt innocent— as though they were the only two beings in existence and all of it was new and theirs.

“That’s interesting…” Aidon said, motioning to the center of the grove. In the place where they had awoken, a perfect, six-pointed narcissus had sprouted, its saffron-colored trumpet reaching upward.

She gaped at it. “I-interesting?”

“Yes,” he said, twining a lock of her hair around a finger, and quaking in silent laughter. “After all the little miracles you’ve brought down here,
this
is the one that leaves you dumbstruck?”

“But… I thought I wasn’t able to…” Was that single augural flower, the same she’d plucked in Nysa, the first thing she’d grown here outside of a dream?

“I think we should come out here more often and see what else we can grow,” he said, nuzzling her neck. Persephone jumped when Aidoneus broke her reverie, and he chuckled against the shell of her ear at her reaction.

“Aidon, Do you think this place
itself
brought us here last night?”

“More likely than not. It’s what I’d like to believe, at least.” He stared up at the pomegranates. Reaching for the lowest branch, he pulled at one of the fruits until the bough bent, then released the ripe globe into his hand and rebounded, shaking above them. “Until they started growing here, I’d never actually seen a pomegranate.”

“Really?” She turned around to sit cross-legged in front of him. He followed her lead and played with the rough-skinned fruit, tossing it back and forth.

“I had no opportunity— too busy fighting in ash and fire. The mortals don’t hold feasts to honor us, and these aren’t given as libations to the world below or buried with the dead, so there’s no way they would have come before me.” He examined the perfect, six-pointed star at the bottom and the stem at the top, turning it over curiously. Aidoneus lifted the pomegranate and smelled it, then opened his mouth to take a bite.

“What are you doing?” She blurted out. He halted, mouth wide open.

“Eating it,” he replied matter-of-factly.

Persephone laughed until she almost fell backward, drawing a quizzical look from her husband.

“This amuses you?”

“Aidon, it will taste horrid!”

“Then why would anyone eat these? I thought pomegranates were sweet.”

“The
arils
are sweet, but the flesh is bitter,” she said, taking it from his hand. “Here…”

Digging her thumbnail sharply into the pomegranate, she scored the hard skin and pulled it back carefully. Dark red spray from a pierced aril cascaded across her neck and collarbone like a smattering of garnets. Aidoneus leaned forward and swept his tongue across the trail, eliciting a surprised squeak from his wife.

“Mmm. It
is
sweet,” he remarked. “Of course, that could be due to how it was served…”

Persephone bit her lower lip and smiled at him before she broke off a section of the scored rind. “I’ve had so very few of these, I forgot how difficult they are to open without a knife.”

“Why? Are they rare?”

“Not at all. I just wasn’t… allowed to eat them.”

Concern overtook his features. “Are these fruits poisonous?”

“…No.”

“What was it then that forbid you to eat them?”

“People say they have potent properties. Something about stopping seeds from taking hold in the womb—” She doubted it would affect her. Women had been eating pomegranates and having babies for as long as they had been harvested. But when she saw his jaw set tight at her words, she banished that line of thought from her mind. For now. She still needed to speak with Hecate. “The main reason Mother didn’t allow me to eat them was because pomegranates are… amatory.”

He raised his eyebrows and looked at her blankly.

“It’s a food meant to arouse passion,” she offered.

“What a cold sounding word for it,” he mused, and then pulled at one of the arils. It burst on his fingertips and he licked up the juices before digging out the two next to it. He tossed both into his mouth and crushed them, smiling at the burst of juice and the crunch of the seeds between his teeth. The next one he delicately rolled along the roof of his mouth, feeling the shape and texture of it. He closed his eyes and rapidly flicked the tip of his tongue over it, thinking about how very much the little aril felt like a favorite part of his wife’s body. When it gave up its essence, he sipped and savored it— dark and sweet, tart and heady— the taste and recollection sending a fresh jolt of desire through him.

“I take it you like it?” she said, reading his expressions.

“Very much so. I could eat these with you all day long. I think I can see why they claim this arouses, though I’m certain sure my present company helps.”

Persephone grinned widely at him and pulled a ripe aril from the exposed rind. She lifted her fingers toward her mouth, only to have Hades wrap his hand around her wrist.

“Don’t.”

I am already bound here, Aidoneus.
She looked into his eyes; his jaw was set seriously. Persephone held up her left hand, her fingers adorned with the Key.
Is this not telling enough, my love?

“That is by choice,” he answered aloud and loosened his grip on her. “But this grew in the Underworld. And if it is anything like the asphodel roots that feed the shades, the
fruit
that bound
me
to Chthonia, then it’s… final. Those are rules governed by the very order of the cosmos itself, ones that supersede the will of all others— the Gods, the Fates…”

I choose to stay with you
, she said.
To love you. To be your queen.

“And because that is true, I don’t want Demeter thinking that I drove you to eat the fruits of the Underworld— that I trapped you here, unawares. It would undermine every word that came out of your mouth. If you taste even one of those seeds, you might as well stay.” She paused, considering the choice, then nodded in agreement. He lifted her hand to his lips and sucked the aril from her fingertips, leaving a soft kiss in its place. “Just… wait. At least until you speak with her— convince her to relent.”

“When I get back, then?”

“When you return, I’ll feed you those seeds myself, if you wish it. But with everything hanging so precariously in the balance, let’s not alter the order of things any more than we already have.”

“Alright,” she said, kissing him, his lips made sweet by the pomegranate. “We can wait.”

He shivered and cursed.
Despite the hearth fire, the cold air bit at his skin as he hurriedly put on his tunic. Hermes’s feet danced on the freezing floor for a moment before settling, thankfully, on a thick fleece rug. The nymph lying huddled under a pile of furs atop her bed giggled. She’d whimpered for him not to get out of bed, that it was freezing, it was the middle of the night, and now he could almost hear her biting back an ‘I told you so.’

Daeira. An Oceanid, he remembered, who’d come to shelter in Eleusis. She’d been pleasant company this afternoon. More even than the heat within her, Hermes appreciated the warmth of just lying beside her. He usually didn’t sleep next to women after he coupled with them, and certainly not all day. But between the bitter cold, his eventual destination, and what he’d been tasked with, it was a welcome comfort. Long dark hair fell and pooled on the indigo himation she’d rolled up as a pillow, and she stared at him quietly with turquoise eyes. Their color reminded him of a pond he’d played in as a boy near Kyllene. He vaguely remembered saying that to her before he untied her seashell girdle.

Hermes adjusted his belt and tunic and wrapped his chlamys over his left shoulder. It was too spare a garment for a night as cold as this, but he would only be outside for a few moments. Then he would fly through the endless caves and passages that twisted every which way through the depths of the earth. Those long roads would be warmer. The irony of that! He usually hated the descent because of how much colder it was in the Underworld. But there hadn’t been any warmth in the living world for weeks, and it was as dark as Erebus outside, storm clouds obscuring the moon and stars. He planned to arrive when there was daylight on the Other Side, dim as it was.

His goal was to enter the Underworld when Hades was likely occupied, and Demeter’s daughter hopefully alone. Hermes lifted the heavy wool high on his right shoulder and held it fast with a finely crafted gold fibula in the shape of a caduceus. It had been a gift to him from his father, made by the Blacksmith.

“I’m between the tides.” He jumped at the voice and spun around. Daeira lay resting her head on one arm.

“Oh?” Hermes answered. “I thought the ice froze the tides. That’s why you left the sea.”

She tittered. “No, milord. I mean that I am fertile. You probably gave me a child this evening.”

“That would be nice, sweetling,” he smiled, and studied her face. Hermes cleared his throat, then went back to lacing up his sandals. “But there’s nothing being born right now. No one is having children.”

“Except for here, you mean.”

He turned to her. “Hmm?”

“The Great Lady Demeter restored fertility to Eleusis, silly! A tabby cat in the basileus’s stables just birthed four kittens last night.”

“Well, is a child what you want from me?” He cringed hoping she wouldn’t shove him out into the snow with what he said next. “I… ahhh, I don’t want to give you the impression that I don’t
like
the idea of making a child with you, it’s just…”

Daeira sat up and clasped her hands in her lap, bundling the fur around her shoulders. They were silent for a moment, and then she started laughing. “Look at you! You turned as pale as the Lord of the Dead! I’m not looking for you to
raise
it with me, so stop worrying your pretty head. I’m just curious how a babe by the famed Argus Killer would look.”

Hermes shuddered at Hades’s mention, relaxing only slightly when the nymph brought up the hundred-eyed giant he’d lulled to sleep and bludgeoned aeons ago. At least Daeira wouldn’t give him any grief in the coming years.
Do I even have such a thing as ‘coming years’? Or is this all going to end in fire?

“Your woman doesn’t mind, does she?”

“What?” He slung his satchel over his shoulder and patted it to make sure its terrible cargo was still within. “No. She—”
She’s used to it
, he thought. “Penelopeia doesn’t mind. Just don’t… If we did conceive, be mindful of her feelings, would you?”

“Of course I will.” She purposefully let her cleavage poke out from the fur. Hermes grinned as she spoke again. “And if nothing took hold the first time, milord, you can always come back to my bed tomorrow.”

If I’m not thrown into Tartarus for this
, he worried. “I wouldn’t mind that at all, sweetling.”

“Hermes?”

“Yes?” He pulled his petasos onto his head.

“When you come back,” Daeira crooned seductively, laying back and lengthening her body in an inviting arch, “can you… you know… do that little thing with your tongue again?”

“What little thing?” Hermes gave her an impish smile as he opened the door. She blushed. He wasn’t going to press it. It might be fun to rediscover what she meant without the encumbrance of words. “I think that can be arranged.”

When it closed behind him, he went pale again.
If Hades doesn’t cut my tongue out first.

***

“Is it lopsided?”

Aidon leaned around her, studying her reflection in the polished hematite. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

He straightened his crown of golden poplar leaves and cocked a half smile at Persephone. “I don’t know why you’re fussing over your appearance so much.”

“I’m nervous,” she said, rearranging an asphodel flower for the fifth time.

“Why? It’s only your mother.” He considered the implications of that statement, and his smile faded.

“I haven’t been above for two months, and when I
do
see her again, I want her to see me as Queen. Not as Kore.”

“You’ll always be Kore to her.”

“Yes, but I need to look like a queen,” she said, pulling at the edges of her mantle. The fine linen draped over her shoulders, held in place by ruby clasps. She wore the necklace he’d left on a table for her when she’d first awaked in the Underworld, garnets and fire opals cascading from her neck to her collarbone. Aidoneus was formally dressed, ready to see to the numerous shades waiting to be judged. He stood behind Persephone and met her eyes in the mirror.

“You look like a queen even if you didn’t have a single flower, a single jewel, or a stitch of clothing on you. It’s who you are, and they can never take that away from you.” He planted a kiss on her cheek then looked at her askance. “Even if your hair
is
lopsided.”

“Wait! You told me it—” she stopped when she saw him biting back a smile. She scrunched up her nose at him, then playfully smacked his chest.

“You look beautiful,” he said, smoothing his hands down her shoulders. He remembered that Merope was no longer there to attend to his wife and good-naturedly tease him. Having a servant had been strange for him. The Olympians had plenty, but he’d seen no need for them in his kingdom, more so because Olympian gods were known for having their nymph attendants see to other wants, a service he’d had no need of. Aidon watched her push a stray lock behind her ear. His face fell. “As beautiful as the moment I first saw you in the moonlight…”

She turned around and gazed up at him. “Aidoneus…”

“I know it will be only be a few days at most.”

“I’ll miss you, too. And I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“At least there’s work to keep me busy while you’re away. I have to oversee eight judgements today. And nine tomorrow. The bloodiest wars don’t yield this many rulers. I haven’t had such numbers come before me since recruiting the three judges.”

“You’d think that after this, you might want to just let them judge the rich and powerful in the same manner as everyone else, hmm? Aren’t all equal in death?”

“And risk impartiality?”

“Are your judges trustworthy or not?”

“They are, but…”

“Aidon, how long have Minos and Rhadamanthys been here?”

“Fifteen centuries.”

“And Aeacus?”

“Thirteen.”

“And they were kings of men?”

He grunted in acknowledgement.

“Aidon, they’ve all been dead for well over a millennium. Their bones, their
empires
crumbled long ago. The Minoans, Mycenae… they’re all gone. There are only the scattered cities in Hellas and Ilion now.”

“Maybe you’re right. I’ll consider it.” He kissed her forehead. “Unless, of course, I am receiving a direct order from my Queen.”

“Oh, Aidoneus, honestly!” She smiled, shaking her head. Persephone rose up on tiptoe to peck him on the cheek, only to have him lean into it and steal the kiss from her. “Will you walk me at least as far as the Styx?”

“I’d go further if I could.”

“I should go alone— and leave from the opposite side of the river. This is my first time crossing between worlds on my own. But I would love to have you with me for the first leg of my journey.”

“Charon will be glad to take you to the far shore. He’s been pestering me to see you again.”

“And why
ever
haven’t we paid a visit to dear Charon?” she asked, coyly.

“Well, we’ve been… otherwise occupied. I’m sure he understands. We’re newlyweds, after all…”

She bit her lip and smiled.

“And though we don’t make an exhibition of it—”

“We didn’t make an exhibition of it until this morning, you mean,” she teased.

Aidoneus pointedly cleared his throat and continued. “Even though we don’t, what I feel for you is no secret here.”

Secrets. Persephone licked her lips and debated whether this was a good time to tell him about her suspicion— that they may both be harboring a greater secret yet. “Aidon, there’s something I—”

A loud knock at the door to their antechamber interrupted her, and she halted her words.

“Your majesties?” a muffled female voice said.

Hecate
, Aidon said with a silent thought. He walked hand in hand with Persephone from their bedroom to the antechamber, where they sat next to each other on one of the divans.
It wouldn’t surprise me if she already knows that you’re going to see your mother.

Nor I
, she answered, then called out through the door. “Enter, please.”

The Goddess of the Crossroads, dressed in a crimson peplos, pushed open one side of the antechamber doors. Her eyes were red, the lids swollen from lack of sleep, and she looked pale and gaunt. Worry lines creased her forehead, foreshadowing by a week the transition into her aspect of the Crone. “Good full moon to you, Queen Persephone, Lord Hades.”

“And you, as well,” Aidon replied.

“Is something troubling you, Hecate?”

“Only a single fork in a solitary path, my queen. One of many. And there is another matter,” she said, giving Persephone a knowing look. “I should speak with you about it
later
. Tomorrow, perhaps?”

Persephone swallowed. The Goddess of the Crossroads already knew. And if she intended to speak with her about it tomorrow, then Hecate already knew Demeter would relent after only a day. This heartened her. “Thank you, Hecate.”

Aidon quirked an eyebrow at the exchange, then moved on. “Since you’re here, I assume you’re aware that my wife intends to journey to the world above and put some sense into Demeter?”

“Yes,” she said distantly. “Yes, I suspected she would. Especially after the torrent of voices in Asphodel last night when you two shared the Key…”

Persephone turned pink and felt sheepish embarrassment wash over her husband. “Is there anything else?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Hecate pulled a pomegranate—
their pomegranate
— from her sleeve. “It seems that someone has salted the sacred soil of you grove.”

The pink that colored each of their cheeks turned a brilliant shade of red. The King and Queen exchanged a furtive glance and squeezed their hands together.

Hecate cleared her throat. “I see. I suppose I’ll offer an apology to Askalaphos.”

“You didn’t go too hard on him, I hope?” Aidon chortled.

“Other circumstances may have colored my… accusations,” she said. Hecate held up the fruit, its torn skin plainly visible to both of them. “Six seeds are missing. My queen, please answer with crystalline clarity: did you eat
even a single seed
from this fruit?”

“Don’t worry, Hecate,” Aidon answered for her. “I picked the fruit. Those seeds are missing because of
my own
curiosity. I’d never eaten a pomegranate before.”

“I was going to,” Persephone added, “but we decided it would be best to wait until after I return from Eleusis.”

Hecate paused a moment, her face falling further. Her voice wavered. “I see.”

“It would be foolish to bind myself here prematurely. I need to speak to my mother first, and she would blame Aidon if I ate anything in the Underworld.”

The Goddess of the Crossroads blinked back tears. “Yes. Yes, I suppose she would.” She forced a smile. “I shouldn’t linger and keep you from your goodbyes.”

“Are you sure there is nothing else?” Aidon asked, perplexed by her reaction to so simple a thing.

“No, my lord,” she said solemnly. “A twist of fate, so to speak. All will follow the will of the Fates. I must go.” She walked to the door and dipped her head before she departed. “Farewell, my queen.”