Page 42 of His in the Dark

Her eyes catch mine for only a moment and then she strides ahead with them trailing behind. Disappointment is my only company as I stare back down to my hands, the blood filled in the cracks of my roughly calloused palm.

How could she feel such things for a guard who would put his desires before his duty?

She … is so far from the queen I envision. Yet I feel her power so close.

If this plagues her… if one act of so little consequence yields a reaction from her of this magnitude how will she ever face the courts? Let alone rule them?

She knows not of his previous life and his debts. She knows not anything of him and yet, she persists in anger and torments me so?

I am tired of this lack of progress. I am tired of her focus on what she believes to be true rather than whatcouldbe true if she would stop railing against it.

The new rage that burns in me is only because of the memory of the damned soul’s quiet offer. Of how he thought, for an instant, I would let him put his hands on her.

And worse?—

The sickening question of whether she would want it. I had not known what Persephone’s answer would be. I had not dared to hope that she would refuse.

I crave her satisfaction and yet it appears that I am ill equipped.

I was a fool. There is no such ease with Persephone. She is far too naive, too flighty, to understand that blood on the floor does not always mean a monster is nearby. That fuckingloyaltydoes not make a person a threat. That she could be free of her imagined prison if she would accept her true status, and hertrue power. That the ties that bind her would be nothing if she realized she’s the one who made them.

It’s not long before the other guard returns and it takes greater effort than I’d like to remain composed. How have I stayed here in this filth with my own thoughts for too long a time?

“She is safely secured. Shall the doors be locked?”

The magic is still her capture, I nearly tell him but resist. “No need to lock the doors to your queen,” I tell him instead. When I am ready, I will give her grace in movement.

“Get rid of half the torches down the left side of the hall,” I order him, my voice on the verge of breaking into a shout. “So she’s more willing to go right. Give her access and watch her for her protection only.”

“Do you think she’ll try to escape, my Lord?” the guard asks.

I huff a humorless laugh. Escape? I am not concerned of her ability to escape. She cannot and will not without aid. I am concerned her pleas will leave the Underworld and make their way back to Olympus. Secrecy has been an ally the past few days. But the magic will aid me in her silence.

“No. She needs to learn the ways of our realm. Allow her to reign as she should, and she will find her place beside me herself.” I don’t speak the last thought outloud, like it or not, this is her fucking fate and she cannot outrun it.

I walk away from the halls without thought, with only a black anchor clouding my mind. I do not have a destination in mind. I only want to shed these thoughts with brisk movement, but they will not go.

Persephone… my beautiful queen… what am I to do with you so that you will both rule and love me as I love you?

I exhale sharply, trying to release the disappointment. It has always been strong in me, but that only makes it more difficult to tolerate Persephone’s. She does not have anything to be angryabout. The things that have happened to her pale in comparison to the life I had before I ruled the Underworld. She is meant for this. She is no victim. This is a part of her story and her stubbornness turns her blind. If only she would give in and allow fate to move her as it must.

Slowly, a fear creeps in me. Never felt before. I’m quick to acknowledge it and release it, condemning it to the pit of hell where fear belongs.

Minox glides into step next to me, detaching from the shadows without my notice.

“My Lord,” he says.

“Minox,” I say, my teeth gritted. I find I cannot relax them for several beats.

“Where are you going, my Lord?”

“I haven’t decided,” I snap at Minox, though this is not his fault. “I haven’t decided,” I say again, moderating my tone. “Do you require my presence?”

His hands are folded inside his black robe. His steps have not faltered, even once.

Before he can begin a conversation, I whistle, loud and sharp. I should have called for Cerberus long ago. My faithful companion. A few moments pass, and loping footsteps, along with theclinkof his collar, grow louder until Cerberus is at my side.

I stop to pet his three heads, stroking between each one in turn until my lungs feel less liable to explode. Cerberus wags his tail and presses two of his snouts into my leg. His black fur shines as a healthy coat.

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