Page 55 of The Ash Bride
Melia cringed at her sister. “I want nothing to do with Inakhos,” she said, her voice becoming hard in an instant. “Gods, I hate him. I really hate him. You know what he said the other day? That naiads belong to river-gods. Those words actually left his mouth! As if we don’t have our own lives and aspirations and that we were created for their pleasure rather than be goddesses in our own right,” she yelled breathlessly up the hill toward Persephone and Elektra, who were far ahead of her. “Imagine that. That I was born to wed him and give him beautiful babies and keep his home, while he gets to do Zeus knows what wherever and whenever he pleases.”
The only sound in response were their heavy breathing as they walked up the hill.
“Melia,” Persephone said quietly. “Do you think Oceanus would let you keep the next one? I mean, if you even wanted to have another one,” she added hastily before Melia could turn her fury on her.
“No,” she said, “and I don’t want another one. I had three children, and they have all grown up without me, without each other. It was hard enough the first time, Persephone.” Persephone glanced over her shoulder, her eyes meeting Melia’s, glistening in the sun with tears. “Plus,” she said, her voice brighter, “there’s this stunning woman on the island of—”
Persephone laughed and looked toward Elektra as they reached the top of the hill, surrounded by the bright flowers and pockets of plain asphodel now. “Elektra,” she said. “I told you she was making eyes at Ariadne last summer!” She picked a handful of asphodel and starting weaving them into a circular crown as she turned back and winked at Melia.
“And I told you that I saw them sneak into that curtained off room,” Elektra yelled at the sky, not bothering to turn back toward Persephone and Melia. “Ariadne’s arm was over her shoulder, with her hand shoved under Melia’s dress. And you didn’t believe me!” Elektra swung her arms out as she accused Persephone, both of them laughing now.
Melia’s face had reddened and she stammered with embarrassment. Persephone turned away from her too quickly, tripping over a large rock and falling hard onto the ground, crushing flowers in her wake. She laughed harder at her own clumsiness, and when she tried to stand she fell back down twice before giving up and sitting on the rock she’d tripped over.
Turning to face Melia instead, who was frozen in place, pointing in the distance.
Persephone’s laugh was cut short as she followed Melia’s gaze and pointed finger, flying toward them.
It was a golden chariot, burning brilliantly in the afternoon light, being pulled by four night-black horses and a crowned Hades at the reins. His face was set in an emotionless, stoic expression, but his eyes burned into her as they made eye contact across the sky, his fury like a whip across her face.
Persephone swore, turning to run down the opposite side of the hill in an attempt to escape her husband, but she didn’t make it two steps before Hades was above her. Without slowing, he reached his arm behind him and yanked her into the chariot by her arm, her shoulder screaming in agony as he ripped her into the sky. She was flung back and up over the chariot before he slammed her down onto the floor of it, knocking the breath from her body.
She pulled her arm from his grasp and rubbed at her shoulder as she slowly pulled her feet under her and stood up, the pain already subsiding. She screamed at him for pulling her – his wife, she reminded him curtly – into the chariot in such a painful way, the wind half drowning her out.
Outrage roiled off his body, the feeling encapsulating both King and Queen as they flew past the palaces and grassy hills of the mainland. Instead of responding to her, he glanced at her for barely a moment, disgust colouring his features, his mouth turning down at the corners as his upper lip curled at her.
Remembering the flowers she had been weaving, she handed the drooping crown to him with a smile, trying to ease the tension that was so tightly wound around them. He plucked it from her fingers, looked at it, and smiled at her.
Surprised, her smile widened, glad to have began making amends with him. He raised the sad crown between them, barely bending his elbow, and let go, letting it fly behind them and fall apart into petals and bare twigs.
As it disintegrated behind them, her jaw dropped open. She started to yell at him when her mouth slammed shut on its own.
Hades smirked at her and turned forward again without a word.
He had shut her mouth for her.
How kind, she seethed to herself, glaring at the immortal beside her.
They rode the winds in silence, bursting through puffy white clouds violently, dispersing them in their wake until the ocean loomed before them. Hades plunged the chariot toward the water, Persephone clutching the front edge to keep from flying off the back as the horses pulled them down vertically.
Persephone tried to yell at him, tried to get his attention to beg him not to do this, not to dive into the water at this speed, but her mouth wouldn’t open and not even a hum escape her nose. All she could do was watch as the ocean got closer, her vision blurring with tears from the wind and free hairs flying around her head, cutting into her skin and eyes.
Nothing but the water could be seen now they were so close.
The horses dove straight into the water, disappearing beneath the waves, the darkness of the depths and the blackness of the beasts melding together.
Shutting her eyes against the panic, she silently prayed to Poseidon to let her survive the plummet.
Kill Hades, she pleaded. Kill Hades, not me. Let me survive. Let me see my mother again, please.
§
The water was as cold as a fierce winter storm as they splashed into it, the chariot still careening forward with immense speed, the water rushing passed Persephone at a rate she hadn’t imagined possible. She didn’t dare open her eyes, but ceased praying as she realized they would not be dying here in this ocean.
She could breath.
As the water rushed past her on either side, drenching her, her clothes clinging to her body with icy hands, her lungs filled with deep, fresh breaths.
She was not going to die.