Page 9 of The Queen & the King

She softens slightly, no doubt seeing the desperation etched into my face. “I know you do, but you’re not thinking rationally.”

I laugh shakily. “Of course I’m not! I just lost the love of my life!”

The entire Underworld shakes, feeding off my turbulent emotions.

“We will get her back,” she states. “But we shouldn’t take unnecessary risks.”

I close my eyes and exhale. “Just let me see her.”

Mellie tenses, and I drop my hands. “You’ll need to give me time to prepare.”

My eyes open, the slightest bit of hope filtering in. I nod before moving to the old chair I’ve spent hours reading in. I slouch in it, laughing sadly. “We just made up… finally… and now this.”

Mellie watches me, her eyes sad. “She will return, Hades. You are fated.”

I cover my eyes with my hand, rubbing my face wearily. “This doesn’t feel fated. It feels doomed.”

She touches my shoulder. “You don’t believe that.”

I shrug, keeping my eyes closed. Mellie squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll see you in three days.”

I nod.

Six

Persephone

THE PAIN IS STILL PRESENT. IT WILL BE FOR AT LEAST A FEW DAYS, BUT IT WILL FADE EVENTUALLY.”

The shame is still present. It never fades. It is the constant.

I look down at my latest diary entry. The room is lit only by the small lamp on my bedside table. A soft breeze blows through the white gossamer curtains, revealing the expanse of Olympus illuminated by the silvery glow of the moonlight.

I close the journal, storing it back in the secret compartment in my bedside table. Never do I feel quite so alone than when she takes my horns. It took hours to remove them this time, and I have no idea why. She had them shaved down not two months ago. I thought that once I mastered my glamor, the removal surgery would cease. I am now at the stage where my glamor feels natural, and I feel wrong when it is down. But is that my truth? Or is it my mother’s?

It hurt more this time. It didn’t matter how many times I asked, begged, or cried for them to stop, to give me a break. They wouldn’t.

My mother asked for the horns. Usually, she would have them incinerated, but this time, she demanded they be placed in a bag and put in her office.

I slip from the bed and move to the open balcony doors, taking a deep breath of the fresh Olympus air. My lungs feel underwhelmed. The scent is not the one I’m craving. I usually love the smell of flowers, and I still do, but it’s not what I need right now.

Citrus… Oh, how I would love to smell something citrusy. I make a mental note to ask my mother about planting an orange tree tomorrow. Maybe if I keep the conversation light and about gardening, she won’t punish me.

I climb back into my bed, the soft cotton sheets caressing my skin and the fluffy pillow immediately molding to my head. The dull ache from the exposed roots of my horns makes it a little more difficult to relax. A twinge of unease rolls deep in my stomach, and I rack my brain, searching for the source but finding no answers. My head pounds with a raging tension headache. I close my eyes, willing myself to sleep, praying that tomorrow will be a day full of joy, hope, and happiness. For now, I’ll return to my dream meadow of serenity.

“Good morning, sweetling,”my mother chirps as I enter the dining room, her eyes sweeping over a copy of Olympus Today.

“Good morning, Mother.” I sit in my usual seat, and Margaritte flits around me, filling my cup with coffee and serving my breakfast.

The paper rustles as my mother peers over it. “Fruit only for Persephone this morning, Margaritte.” Her tone is demanding and cold.

Margaritte bows her head, removing the plate filled with eggs and toast she had set before me.

“From now on, we eat only what we can grow. Understand?” Her cool stare pierces me, and there’s an undertone of suspicion in her words.

“Of course, Mother. Is there any reason for this?” I ask carefully.

“I can only trust the produce that comes from our garden,” she replies, going back to her paper and ending the conversation.

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