Page 31 of Aïdes the Unseen
Hermes vanished. But he did not cross the boundary. No one could. Not while I guarded it. Not whileshe stayed.
Back in the chamber, she stood by the window, wrapped in one of my robes, hair falling loose around her shoulders. Her eyes met mine as I entered.
“They’re coming, aren’t they?” she asked.
“They tried.”
Her mouth curled, amused. “And?”
“They failed.”
She turned fully to me then. Bare feet. Bare throat. Crownless and free. No longer maiden. No longer only Kore.
“I don’t want to leave,” she said.
“Then stay.”
“Iamstaying.”
Then she crossed the space between us. When she gripped my face and kissed me again, not like our first kiss, not like invitation, butconfirmation, I knew.
The world above would mourn its spring.
Down here, in the hush between endings, somethingnewhad taken root. It would bloom.
We didn’t sleep. Not for long, not deeply. Not the way gods sleep when the world moves without them. Kore stirred beside me, warm and alive andso utterly present, and the hush of the Underworld shifted with her every breath. As if even the darkness listened now.
Her fingers skimmed my ribs, idle, curious. Her leg slid across mine. She moved like someone still drunk on joy—not dazed or dulled, butopen.
She pressed a kiss to my chest, then another, slower, just above my heart. I watched her in the lowlight, eyes half-lidded, not daring to speak.
“You don’t talk much,” she murmured.
“I wasn’t made for it.”
She looked up at me then, a smile tugging wickedly at the corner of her mouth. “You were made for something.” Before I could answer, she moved.
Great mother.
She straddled me, slow and smooth, a shift of silken skin and certainty. My hands gripped her hips, but lightly,always lightly. If I held too tight I might shatter the moment.
“Let me see what else you were made for,” she whispered.
What followed might not be considered sacred to others. Yet, there was holiness in it.
She rode me like the season rides wind, all wild and graceful. Her laughter filled me as I kissed her, as I clutched at her, as I came apart beneath her. She bent down, hands pressed to my chest, hair falling around our faces like dusk, and the sounds she made, low, unguarded,nearly feral, broke me open.
When it was done—when I was undone—she curled beside me, head on my shoulder, and the room swelled with a strange, bright ache I did not know how to name.
It felt likeliving.
Later, she dressed in a different robe, perfect for the silk of her skin to wander into the long hall. The Underworld draped her in shadows shot through with midnight blues. I followed, content to watch the way she touched the edges of this world. She didn’t change it, not once did she even attempt to change it, but she sought to know it.
That’s when Kerebos barreled into her again.
Still just the single head, soft ears, oversized paws, more energy than grace, but full of joy. She squealed when he leapt,catching her around the waist with too much enthusiasm. They tumbled to the floor in a knot of fur and laughter.
“Kerebos!” I called, half-chiding.
