Page 69 of The Ash Bride
Dread thickened in her throat. A sadness for the poor mortals who slowly strode through these fields for eternity, unseeing and unfeeling. Not knowing what was happening to them or around them. Unable to even feel when someone comes barreling into them at full speed.
Making a mental note to mention this to Hades, to see if they could ensure a better, happier afterlife for the mortals, and kept running.
30
COMPASSIONLESS KING
When Persephone reached the gates of the palace she fell to her knees and wept into the grass, not a care in the Underworld for the rocks sticking into her forehead. She never imagined she would be happy to see this wretched place again, to come home to a palace in the Underworld and feel safe— like she had returned home.
She ran straight down the hall, aiming for the stacks ofamphorae. Thirst clawed at her throat as she impatiently poured glass after glass, hunger shaking her arms so badly that only half the wine actually made into the glass, most of it had pooled on the counter, pouring off the side and splashing up her legs.
The long obsidian table she had had the pleasure of sitting at once was covered in bowls filled with food, several different loaves filling the gaps in between. It was enough food for one hundred people, she thought, though in truth it was less than they had served at their wedding.
Never in her life had she been so thirsty, so hungry, so exhausted and ecstatic and angry all at once.
Throwing herself into a chair, Persephone stuffed her mouth full of olives, soaking thick chunks of bread in the warm oil that remained in the dish. Three whole fish went down easily, doused in crushed hot olives and their oil, the salt off their home still within the flesh she inhaled.
She washed each mouthful down with wine, finishing the glasses with enough haste that she felt it push its way back up her throat before swallowing it down with another.
The food disappeared once she finished eating herself sick, thin cakes and desserts coated in honey , dried figs and walnuts replacing the dinner plates. She had barely had three bites of the sweets when Hades strode into the room, the chair across her pulling itself out from under the table as he approached.
As Hades sat, Persephone wiped her mouth and her hands, then her glass, which was covered in oil and crumbs in her haste to inhale to every ounce of wine and bit of food that had been laid out on the table.
They stared at each other, Persephone mirroring his stiff back and calm demeanor.
Hades blinked slowly, his eyes leaving hers for a moment to glance down her chest, the table cutting off the rest of her body from his view. “You could use a bath.”
Persephone lips curled at his comment in a mock smile, and she narrowed her eyes at him. “I wonder why that is,” she said, reaching to pour yet another glass of wine.
The jug lifted itself into the air, her fingertips just brushing the cool glass before it tipped onto its side, wine gently sloshing from the spout into the glass she held. Hades smiled warmly at her, letting it quietly fall back to the table while he bit into a miniature cake.
“I can do it myself.” She tried to keep her voice sharp, but it sounded frail. Instead, she slammed the glass down, wine splashing up the sides and over the lips, only to fall back into the glass.
“I do not mind helping.”
Persephone scoffed, flattening her hand on the stone. “Where was your help when I was wandering aimlessly around Tartaros?” She spat. “How long was I down there?”
When she had seen the feast laid out on the table all her anger at Hades had simmered, replaced by the gnawing in her stomach to eat everything in sight. Now though, with her stomach painfully full, and Hades sitting across from her like he hadn’t dropped into the depths of Tartaros, ire bubbled up her throat.
“Do you mean to ask how long is left in your six months with me?”
“No. I meant what I asked, Hades.”
He raised an eyebrow, examining his perfectly trimmed nails, before saying, “Only a handful of days.”
“How many.” It was not a question.
“Time works differently down there, Persephone.” He shrugged. “How long did it feel like?”
“Just tell me!” She yelled, a warm lick of wind whipping out of her and slapping Hades across the face, his head snapping to the side on impact.
He smiled devilishly as he turned back to her. “Is that all you’ve got for me? After what I put you through?”
Persephone screamed and flung Hades back into the stone wall, his chair toppling to the side and over the side of the foundation to fall onto the grass. She pulled the warm, floral breeze back, giving Hades a moment to get his feet under him before slamming into him again, and again, and again. Hitting him with her own wind, the opposite to his own icy powers, she wished it were her fists connecting with his skin.
In that short second of wishing, Hades returned her blasts and she flew into the wall. Her back hit the wall, and the back of her head cracked open against the stone, warmth trickling down her neck.
She landed hard on the ground, her head throbbing from smacking into the wall. Anger still hot on her tongue, she clenched her teeth against the pain and threw all she had at him. A measly breeze slithered out of her, so weak and small it did not even reach the table between them, let alone hit him.