Page 48 of Where Darkness Bloomed
She chewed her lip.
In Eleusis, she had ridden in her mother’s chariot countless times, drawn by placid mares adorned with laurel garlands. But it bore no resemblance to the chariot or the mounts that had carried her to the Underworld.
Still... a horse was a horse. And if she could reach them—
She stood abruptly from the bed.
The temple lay in silence as she moved swiftly through its corridors. Outside, she slipped through the garden once again, feet brushing dew-damp grass. A breeze crisply scented with pine and ash tugged at her clothing as she passed through the trees.
The stables lay where she remembered, carved into the mountainside just beyond the rear colonnade. Built low against the rock, it crouched at the edge of the summit, its arching entrance framed by basalt pillars and smooth timbers. The roof sloped into the cliff, seamless as if the mountain itself had grown it.
At the stable door, the air thickened, filled with the warm scents of hay and musk of animals. Hooves shifted against straw. A snort broke the quiet. Familiar. Ordinary.
But the illusion shattered when she peered into the first stall.
The beast inside was terror incarnate. It was the largest horse she had ever seen, thickly muscled, its coat dark as obsidian. Brilliant black eyes burned like coal, swallowing the light, and smoke curled from flared nostrils.
In its trough, chunks of bloody meat gleamed wetly. Her stomach lurched.
“Do not think of it,” a voice drawled behind her.
She spun.
Hades leaned against the stable door, watching her. “Alastor has one master,” he said flatly. “Attempting to ride him would be… unwise.”
As if to emphasize the warning, the stallion reared in its stall, screaming.Heavy hooves crashed against the stall door, sending a tremor through the ground, and Kore stumbled back a step.
With a slow exhale, Hades pushed off the door and approached.
In the presence of its master, the beast quieted. It snorted low, then lowered its great head and returned to the grisly meal, tearing into flesh and bone.
He came to a halt beside her. “What did you intend to do?” he asked, disapproval threading the words.
“I… I don’t know,” Kore admitted softly, staring at the stall.
“Not a promising start,” he replied dryly. “You should be in your bed. Not my stables.”
The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the wet sounds of tearing meat, and beneath it, the hard beat of her heart.
Slowly, hesitantly, Kore looked up. He was already gazing at her, one shoulder pressed to the timber framing the stall. For an instant, her eyes drifted to his mouth. The mouth that had pressed to hers—unexpected, lingering, impossible to forget.
She looked away, her throat tightening. But still, she forced the words out. “My lord, I do not mean to offend you, but… I—I cannot marry you.”
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t bristle or protest or rage. Instead, he turned fully to her, and the sharpness in his gaze grew softer.
“Yield, Persephone.” The words were quiet, firm but not cruel. “It is all but done.”
She faced him in turn, an unnamed emotion rising swiftly in her chest. “But... why?”
It slipped out before she could stop it, raw and bewildered. Once free, the rest came in a rush, like floodwaters breaching a dam.
“Why would you wish to marry me?” she asked, searching his face. “You are the lord of the Underworld. I am…” She faltered. “I am only the goddess of spring. I hold no power, no throne. Not even a place among the pantheon. What could I possibly be to you?”
The words fell between them, stark and bare, ringing in the stable’s quiet.
Heat flared beneath her skin, shame curling tight in her chest. She hadn’t meant to bare herself—not like this. Turning from him, she pressed a hand to her chest, as if she could smother the ache rising there.
He did nothing at first. Offered no hollow comfort, no soft words meant to soothe or undo what had already been spoken. But she felt him at herback. Not touching her, but a steady presence that did not recoil from her confession.
