True to his word, Hades brought me to the surface on the spring equinox. He’d said little all morning, and as we arrived in a cool meadow, he was silent. As soon as we were on steady ground, he dropped my hand, and I hesitated.

“Thanks,” I said at last, and I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’ll see you soon.”

He nodded once, and before I could say another word, he disappeared. I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of nature even as a fist tightened around my heart. But I would come back to him eventually, much happier than I had been, and in the meantime, I could do what I wanted. We both lost, yes, but we both won, as well.

“Persephone?” Mother’s voice cut through the dewy morning air, and I wasted no time. One moment I stood alone in the middle of the meadow, and the next I barreled straight into her open arms. It didn’t matter that this was only temporary. Being here with her made me soar.

“I missed you,” I mumbled into her chest, and she wrapped her arms around me in a secure embrace.

“As I missed you,” she said, but there was a hint of something I hadn’t expected in her voice—disappointment.

I clenched my jaw. If what Aphrodite had said was true and Mother and Zeus had married me off to Hades as some sort of twisted revenge on Hera, then she had no right to be disappointed. None at all.

But even that momentary spark of anger couldn’t ruin the morning, and I slipped out of her hug and took her hand. We had two entire seasons to talk. Right now, I was going to relish my freedom and forget every awful feeling that had built up inside me in the Underworld. I wasn’t going to waste this, not for anything.

“Come, my darling,” she said, leading me into the forest. “Let’s go home.”

* * *

Home turned out to be a small cottage on the edge of a clearing deep in the woods. By the time we reached it, I had no idea where we’d gone or how we’d gotten there, but I didn’t care. As long as it wasn’t the Underworld, I would follow her anywhere.

It was small, one room divided into a cooking area, a sleeping area and a place to sit. Flowers and herbs hung from the rafters, creating a dizzying scent, and everything was handcrafted, as if she’d hired mortals to build it for her.

Zeus would’ve hated it. I loved it instantly.

We settled in, but the roof over my head reminded me of my constant claustrophobia in the Underworld, so soon enough we moved outside. Together we tended the tidy garden, and sometime in midafternoon, I worked up the courage to ask the question that had haunted me ever since Aphrodite had mentioned it.

“Did you marry me off to Hades because of Hera?”

Mother looked at me, her eyes wide, and her mouth formed a small circle. Dirt streaked across her face, and in her hands she cupped the beginnings of an orchid encased in earth. “What?”

My cheeks burned, but it was too late to back down now. “Someone told me that you made me marry Hades because Zeus wanted to make sure he wouldn’t have an affair with Hera.”

She said nothing as she gently set the flower in its new home. Once it was properly in place, she sat back on her heels and wiped her hands. “Who told you that?”

I shook my head. I may have envied Aphrodite to the point that it actually hurt, but I wasn’t about to betray her trust. “A reliable source.”

“Ah, yes. The world seems to be full of those.” She sighed. “It’s no small wonder that Hera isn’t happy about your marriage. You know how she feels about Zeus’s illegitimate children. I don’t blame her in the slightest, and a very large part of me feels a great deal of shame for betraying her in such a way. But I can’t regret it, not when the result was you.”

She set her hand over mine, and while I didn’t pull away, I didn’t take hers, either. “You’re avoiding the question.”

Mother pursed her lips. “I don’t know what to tell you, my darling. Only that I arranged your marriage because Hades is a wonderful man, and I could think of no one who could possibly love you more.”

“So Zeus had nothing to do with it?” I said. She hesitated.

“Zeus was the one to suggest him, certainly, but—”

“Is Hera in love with Hades?”

She blinked. “What makes you say that?”

“Is she?”

Mother rubbed her cheek, causing the streak of dirt to spread. “We all love Hades very much. Perhaps it is because he is the best of us all, or perhaps distance has something to do with it. We know each other so intimately in Olympus, but Hades is removed from us, and it is easy to forget his flaws. As far as I know, however, while Hera loves Hades as a brother, she has no interest in him as a lover. She is faithful to Zeus, as much as that pains her.”

That was sort of an answer, at least. A half answer, but an answer nonetheless. “So Zeus didn’t suggest I marry Hades simply because he wanted to make sure Hera was kept on a tight leash?”

Mother laughed, but there was something oddly humorless about it. “Oh, sweetheart. Hera does only what she wants. If she wanted Hades as a lover, she would have him, but she is far too devoted to her duties to ever betray the council that way. Zeus and I discussed all of our options, and in the end, we thought Hades would be the best match for you.”

“And Hades? What did he think?”

“He was intrigued,” she said. “He needed help with his duties, with the way the world is expanding, and he agreed so long as you were willing.”

Willing. Funny how my definition seemed so different from my parents’. At least now I knew that if Hades had been aware of my hesitations, he would’ve never gone through with our marriage. That was a small comfort. “Did it never occur to you that I might want to decide on my own?”

“Darling.” She squeezed my hand. I didn’t squeeze back. “Yes, it occurred to me. Many, many times. But I was so certain you would love Hades as much as we all do, and he was in desperate need of help. I can’t tell you how deeply sorry I am that your marriage has caused both of you so much pain, but I haven’t given up hope yet. None of us have. And perhaps this time away will do you both some good.”

I was silent. If that was the reason she’d agreed to this summer—because she saw it as a way to convince me a marriage with Hades wasn’t so bad after all—then I had nothing more to say. I would be his queen for eternity; if Hades couldn’t sever that tie, then there was nothing anyone could do. But this half year was mine to live as I wanted, not to pine over a husband I didn’t love or a realm I hated.

I loved Mother. I loved our family. But the more I opened my eyes to the world around me, the more I began to realize that she and I wanted very different things for my life. And I was no longer afraid to tell her no.

* * *

Hermes came to visit that night, long after the sun had set. Mother answered the knock on the door, but when she invited him in, the suspicion behind her smile made me nervous. It wasn’t the kind of smile she gave guests—it was the kind she gave Hera when they were forced to play nice. I intercepted them, looping my arm in Hermes’s. “Why don’t we go for a walk?” I said, and he nodded.

“That’s what I was going to suggest, actually.”

I forced a grin. “Perfect. We’ll be back soon, Mother.”

Without giving her a chance to protest, I led Hermes out of the cottage and through the garden. As soon as we ducked into the forest and out of Mother’s line of sight, I exhaled.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “She’s been on edge.”

“Don’t apologize.” Hermes stepped over a fallen tree and offered me a hand. I didn’t need his help, but I took it anyway. “She’s rooting for you and Hades to work out. Everyone is.”

“I’m not so sure it will,” I admitted.

“Maybe it will, maybe it won’t,” he said. “But right now you’re not going to think about him at all, because I have a surprise for you.”

I brightened. Hades brought me surprises practically every other day, but the thrill of anticipation ran through me anyway. It meant more somehow, coming from Hermes. “What kind of surprise?”

“That’s a secret,” he said with a grin. “It does come with a price, though—you have to trust me and close your eyes when I say so.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You expect me to let you lead me through an unfamiliar forest in the middle of the night?”

“And I expect you not to peek, either.”

I sighed dramatically. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him—I did, and a few falls wouldn’t exactly hurt either of us—but what little control I had lately was precious to me. And he must’ve known that. “Oh, fine,” I said. “Just don’t get us lost.”

“Me, get us lost?” He snorted. “I’m more likely to get us killed.”

“And that’s supposed to boost my confidence in you how?” I said with a grin. I hadn’t felt this good in ages.

At last, as we approached a clearing, Hermes stopped. “Close your eyes,” he said, and I obeyed, my heart fluttering. He may not have had access to the riches Hades did, but that made this all the better.

Step by step, he led me through the remaining trees, artfully avoiding every stone and root. The air changed once we reached the meadow, cooler now that the forest canopy wasn’t above us. “Can I open them now?”

“Almost,” he said. “Just two more steps and…now.”

I opened my eyes and gasped. At our feet was a midnight picnic, with fruits and meats and nectar, but that wasn’t the part that took my breath away. Above us, the night sky twinkled with countless stars, somehow brighter and more stunning than I remembered. Away from the light of dusk, they glittered, and I sank to the ground beside the picnic. I’d never seen anything more beautiful in my life.

“It’s incredible,” I whispered. “You’ve no idea how much I’ve missed this.”

“I figured you might like it,” said Hermes, and he sat down beside me. “Zeus likes to create fables to go along with them, you know. Most of them are based on us. Like that cluster right there—the Pleiades. One of the stars is called Maia, after my mother.”

“Do I have one yet?” I said, and he chuckled.

“Not that I know of, but I’ll make sure to get right on that.”

I grinned, but that soon faded into a wistful smile. “No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”

“What, show you the stars?” he said, and he offered me a pomegranate. My favorite fruit, and the kind Hades brought me for breakfast every day. I shook my head. Not tonight. Not while I was on the surface. I didn’t want that reminder.

“Do something nice for me that didn’t have strings attached,” I said.

He shrugged, but even in the darkness, I could see his ears turn pink. “It’s just a picnic.”

It wasn’t, though. All of Hades’s gestures, all of his gifts, they weren’t things I wanted. They were things he’d hoped I would like, but I hadn’t needed any of them. This, however—the stars, the open sky, the taste of freedom no matter how fleeting it was—this was what I’d been searching for.

I lay in the grass, picnic forgotten for now as I stared up at the sky. Hermes lay beside me, and I groped around until I found his hand. “I heard what you said to Hades.”

Silence. “You did?”

“Yes.” Tearing my gaze from the stars, I looked at him. “Thank you. For sticking up for me, for saying what he needed to hear—”

“Zeus wasn’t happy with me,” he admitted.

“Zeus is never happy with anyone. He didn’t punish you, did he?”

“Just a verbal thrashing in front of the council. It happens.”

I brushed my thumb against the palm of his hand. “I know it isn’t much, but I would’ve never been this happy again if it wasn’t for you.”

He met my gaze, a small smile playing on his lips. “That’s all the thanks I need.”

I wasn’t sure who moved in first, or if we both got the same idea at the same time. I wasn’t sure it even mattered. One moment we lay there side by side, and the next he was kissing me, and I was kissing him, and the whole world seemed to go quiet.

This wasn’t just lips against lips; this was warmth and comfort and safety and knowing he cared enough about me to risk his own neck. Not because he needed help ruling, not because I was promised to him, but because he saw me, flaws and all, and he cared anyway.

I wrapped myself around him, wanting to be closer to someone for the first time in my life. This wasn’t like my wedding night; there was no pressure, no expectations, and I wanted this. I wanted him.

He didn’t stop me, and I didn’t stop him. At last I understood what Aphrodite was always going on about and why Zeus tested Hera time and time again. This warmth, this comfort, this all-encompassing love—this was what I was meant to feel. Not hurt or guilt or chains. I kissed him deeper, needing to be as close to him as possible; and underneath those glittering stars, he set me free.

As long as I had this, I always would be.

* * *

I returned to the cottage at dawn, my hair tangled and my step lighter than it’d been since I’d first entered the Underworld. Mother took one look at me, and her face fell.

“Persephone. You didn’t.”

I breezed past her. I’d cleaned up in a stream, of course, but I needed my comb. “Don’t worry about it, Mother.”

“Of course I will. This is your marriage.” She followed me through the small cottage. “Sweetheart—”

“Don’t.” I whirled around to face her, brandishing my comb like a sword. “I’m not with Hades right now. I haven’t been with him since we got married, and right now, I can do whatever I want. I’m supposed to do whatever makes me happy.”

“Even if it destroys him?” she said, and I shook my head.

“You don’t get it, Mother. He made this choice, and it isn’t my fault he loves me, all right? It isn’t my fault we can’t be happy together. I’ve tried, we’ve both tried, but it isn’t working.”

She sat down on the edge of the bed, and I pulled the comb angrily through my hair. Leave it to her to ruin an otherwise perfect night. “Do you even intend to go back?” she said quietly.

“Of course,” I snapped. “I won’t abandon him, but I’m not going to waste this chance, either. I finally get to be happy, Mother. Why aren’t you okay with that? Because it isn’t the happy ending you wanted for me?”

“Because it isn’t a happy ending at all,” she said, as gentle as ever. “And as long as you continue down this path, you’ll never find it.”

“And you think I will with Hades?”

“Yes. Otherwise I would have never asked you to marry him.”

“You didn’t ask me to marry him. You told me. And you were wrong, Mother—I’m sorry, I know it must break your heart, but you and Zeus were wrong. We aren’t happy. I’m not happy, and the more you try to pretend, the more it’s going to hurt all of us. So just let it go, all right?”

I stormed into the cooking area, starting the fire with a wave of my hand. I wasn’t hungry, and we didn’t need to eat, but the ritual of cooking calmed me, and I hadn’t had the chance in a very long time. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Mother was supposed to understand, even if she didn’t like it. That’s what she always did: she understood. And there was nothing wrong with me and Hermes. He made me happy, and if she was so worried about it hurting Hades, then he would never have to know. I certainly had no intention of telling him.

“Persephone.” She set her hand on my shoulder, and I shrugged it off. “We all make mistakes—”

“This isn’t a mistake.”

“Rarely does a mistake feel like one at the time,” she said. “All I’m asking is that you don’t jump headfirst into something you can’t stop. And by hurting Hades—”

“I already hurt him. Every second I’m down there, miserable and alone and hating it, I hurt him. At least this way I can be happy, and we both get what we want.”

“And how does he get what he wants?” said Mother.

“By me not being so miserable, even if it’s just for a while.” I turned to face her. “Please, Mother. Just give me this. Let me be happy.”

Her eyes locked on mine for the space of several heartbeats, and at last she sighed. “I cannot condone it, but I will not forbid it, either. If you insist on letting this happen, then I must also insist that when you return to the Underworld, you act as you should. You rule beside Hades without complaint, and you let this happiness bleed into your time down there, as well. Can you do that?”

I nodded. If it meant I could spend the summer with Hermes, then I would. “Thank you.”

She pressed her lips to my forehead. “I want you to be happy, too, my darling, but not at the expense of others. Just be careful. You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“I know.” I let her hug me, resting my head on her shoulder as she ran her fingers through my hair. “But he makes me happy.”

She sighed. “Then for your sake, I hope that is enough for us all.”

* * *

That summer was the best of my life. Mother and I spent every day together, sometimes with Hermes, sometimes without; but he and I spent every night together, as well. We explored the forest, swam in the cool lakes, and never once did I feel an ounce of guilt about betraying Hades. How could I, when he was the one who wanted me to be happy?

But it couldn’t last forever, and finally the autumnal equinox arrived. Hermes and I both agreed we would halt our affair while I was with Hades, though of course I would see him often in the Underworld as a friend. The prospect of getting to spend time with Hermes no matter what realm I was in made giving up the surface a little easier to bear.

Mother led me to the clearing where Hades had dropped me off the spring before, and he was there waiting for us, his hair shining in the morning light. He really was beautiful, in a way Hermes would never be, but Mother had been wrong. My time away hadn’t made me any fonder of him, and the moment our eyes met, that unyielding bitterness returned. There was something new on my side now though—contentment, and not the sort I had to fake. We might never be able to break down the wall between us, but at least we could both accept our fate.

“Persephone,” he said quietly, offering me his arm. I kissed Mother goodbye and took it. “You look well.”

“I feel well,” I said, and I did. Even the dark power that surrounded him couldn’t spoil my good mood. I felt lighter somehow, and Hades must have sensed it, because he gave me a small smile.

“I am glad.”

The trip into the Underworld wasn’t so bad this time, and the rock that surrounded us didn’t feel quite so heavy now that I knew it wasn’t permanent. Half a year, that was it; then I would be free to be with Hermes again. I could do that.

I expected the usual round of duties when we returned to his palace, but instead he stopped me in the antechamber that led into the throne room. For a moment he said nothing as he stared at the floor, his face stony. I frowned. What was going on?

“You are happy, yes?” he said. “With…”

My entire body went cold. Hermes. He knew. Had Hades been spying on me?

No, he wouldn’t. He may have been many things, but a sneak wasn’t one of them. Mother had told him—she must have. Why? To hurt him? To make me feel guilty? To make sure I couldn’t play him like a fool?

But I didn’t think of him as a fool, and neither did Hermes. I’d kept this a secret not to hurt him, but to make sure I didn’t. And Mother had to go and ruin it all.

I swallowed, the words stuck in my throat. “Yes,” I finally said. “I’m happy. And—that’s just the summer, all right? Down here, you and I are…whatever we are. These seasons are yours.”

He nodded, not quite meeting my eye. “Very well. So long as you are happy, that was all I wanted.”

The pain behind his words coiled around my insides until it nearly suffocated me. Why had Mother done this? She must’ve known how much it would hurt him. “I’m sorry Mother told you,” I said quietly. “I never meant for you to find out. I knew it would hurt you, and we weren’t going to continue it down here, and—”

He shook his head. “Your mother did not tell me.”

I blinked. “Then who?” Who else knew?

Hades was silent, and he took my arm as the doors into the throne room opened. Rows of the dead turned to watch us, and at the end of the aisle, standing beside Hades’s throne, was Hermes.

Of course. He was the only other person who knew. Why had he told? Absolution? To ease his guilt?

Whatever it was, I glared at him as Hades and I reached our thrones. Did you really have to tell?

Yes. His voice whispered through me, for my mind only. I don’t want us to be a secret, not from Hades.

You hurt him. Badly.

We both did.

I sat down in my throne, tearing my eyes away from him and focusing instead on the faces of the dead awaiting judgment. The first one moved before us, her head bowed as Hades addressed her, but I was deaf to his words. I wish you hadn’t.

I’m sorry. I respect him too much to go behind his back like that.

Yet you don’t respect him enough to keep your hands off his wife in the first place?

You were free to do whatever you wanted then. But I won’t keep it a secret from him, either. He deserves better than that.

He did, and I hated myself for agreeing. He knows we aren’t together while I’m down here?

Yes.

And he’s all right with that?

As all right as anyone could be. He loves you. He wants to see you happy as much as I do.

You have a strange way of showing it.

Hermes didn’t reply. Between us, Hades sat stiffly, his eyes blank as the woman talked about her life. Slowly, as if it were the most casual thing in the world, I set my hand over his. I hadn’t meant to hurt him, but I’d been a fool to think I never would. There were consequences for everything. Even happiness.

As much pain as it caused him though, that was a price I was willing to pay.

* * *

Despite that first day, Hades and I settled back into our old routine, this time with genuine friendship between us. I managed to carry the contentment of my summer into our time together, and as the years passed and I went back and forth between him and Hermes, I continued to do the same.

It wasn’t simple, but the uneasy truce between the three of us became all but permanent. Years turned into decades and decades into centuries; before long, I’d lost all track of time, my only benchmarks the beginning of spring and the end of summer.

But we were happy. Even Hades eventually adjusted, and I no longer saw pain in his eyes when he met me in the meadow every autumn. Instead he seemed pleased to see me once more, and slowly I grew to be happy to see him, as well. I hated the Underworld, and that wall between us was as strong as ever, but his understanding made me more accepting of his world.

Nothing changed for a long time. But one day, as I lingered in the observatory after we’d finished our judgments, I closed my eyes and did something I’d done thousands of times before: I found Hermes. Summer was only a short time away, and I was anxious to be with him again.

He was in his chambers in Olympus, standing on his balcony as the sun reflected off his light hair. And he wasn’t alone. That wasn’t anything unusual—he was social by nature, the complete opposite of Hades, and he usually spent a great deal of time with our brothers and sisters. But this time it was Aphrodite who stood beside him.

And she was naked.

Not that that was anything unusual, either, but the way she hugged his arm to her chest, the way he touched her—

I was going to be sick.

Hermes and I had never talked about what he did during the winters. He knew I wasn’t with Hades, not like that, and I’d always let myself believe that he waited for me. Maybe most of the time he did. But we didn’t have any rules about our time apart, and I had no right to feel as furious as I did.

It was Aphrodite though—the goddess who had everything. Love, satisfaction, a perfect life, a happy marriage. And now she was taking the one thing I had that was mine, the one damn thing in the world that gave me any amount of real joy.

But Hermes certainly didn’t seem to be complaining.

How dare you. I pushed the thought upward with every ounce of strength I had. It still took ages to reach Hermes, but when it did, his eyes widened, and he immediately moved away from Aphrodite. His cheeks turned red, and when she tried to rejoin him, he sidestepped her. So he knew he was doing something wrong, after all.

“Persephone, please—I’ll explain everything later.”

Like hell he would. Like hell I would let him. What would he say, that Aphrodite had accidentally slipped into his arms? That it was only a onetime thing? That he’d missed me and he was lonely, and he couldn’t wait any longer?

This is over. Don’t bother to come by this summer, because you and I are done.

“Persephone?” said Aphrodite, and she looked around. “She’s watching?”

I didn’t bother to wait for Hermes’s response. I pulled myself back into the observatory so quickly that for the first time since mastering my powers, I grew dizzy. I sat there for a long moment, my head between my knees, and struggled not to break down.

What else had I expected? He was Zeus’s son as surely as I was Zeus’s daughter. Cheating was in our blood. But no matter how many times I’d done it to Hades, that slap in the face—that complete and utter betrayal—had never hit home for me before.

My face was hot, and tears prickled in my eyes, but I refused to let them go. Instead I forced myself to breathe in and out slowly, counting each breath. Hermes loved me; I was certain of that. But why had he gone to Aphrodite? Was half a year really so long to wait?

Or had she seduced him? Were Ares and Hephaestus and Poseidon not enough for her?

Of course not. This was Aphrodite. She could never have enough, and she took whatever she wanted without a second thought. Mother may have considered me selfish, but I was nothing compared to my sister.

The door to the observatory opened and shut, and I wiped my dry cheeks angrily. I wanted to hurt something. I wanted to wrap my hands around Hermes’s neck and squeeze. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would help me feel a hell of a lot better.

“Persephone?”

And now I might have my chance. I straightened, my eyes narrowing as I focused on Hermes. He looked as if he’d dressed in a hurry, his clothing rumpled and his hair a mess. At least he’d bothered at all. “I told you not to come.”

“Actually, you didn’t,” he said, shuffling his feet. “You said we were over, but—”

“And we are, so you have no business here,” I snapped. His expression crumpled.

“Persephone, come on. I’m sorry. It was just once—”

“And I happened to peek in at the exact wrong moment?”

“You never said I couldn’t see anyone else during the winter.”

“I never said you could, either.”

He exhaled. “What’s really bothering you? Did you have a fight with Hades?”

I stared at him. He really didn’t get it, did he? “What’s bothering me is the fact that out of all the girls and goddesses in the world, you had to sleep with Aphrodite.”

“And what’s wrong with her?”

“She’s Aphrodite. She has Ares, she has Hephaestus, she has every damn person she wants. You’re mine. You’re the only person I have, and she—she steals you like it’s no big deal—”

“Nobody stole me.” He knelt down in front of my chair, careful not to touch me. “I’m still yours. I’ll always be yours, and I’m sorry about being with Aphrodite. You’re right, it wasn’t fair to you, and I should’ve asked you first.”

I took a deep, shaky breath. “It doesn’t matter. We’re over.”

“Persephone—”

“No.” I stood and moved around him, narrowly avoiding kneeing him in the chin. “I was happy because of you, and I can’t be that happy ever again, not when I know what you did with her. You stole that from me—you both stole that from me, and I will never forgive you for it.”

“Persephone, come on, don’t be like this—”

“Don’t be like what? Angry? Upset? Hurt?” I whirled around to face him. “Why did you do it? Out of all the girls you could’ve slept with, why her?”

He hesitated, looking to his left for a moment. “Because—I don’t know, all right? It’s Aphrodite. If she wants you, you can’t say no.”

I balled my hands into fists. “Wrong answer.”

As I stormed toward the door, the sound of his footsteps scrambling behind me echoed through the long room. “I’m sorry, all right? She was there, you weren’t, and it isn’t fair, but it won’t happen again. Ever. I love you.”

“If you really loved me, you would’ve never touched her in the first place.” I flung open the door. “Hades would’ve never done that to me.”

I glanced over my shoulder in time to see the stunned look on his face. “Hades? You’re really going to compare me to Hades now? You don’t even love him. You don’t even want to be with him.”

“If you’re my only other option, then maybe he isn’t so bad after all,” I snapped. “Leave, Hermes. I don’t want you here anymore.”

With as much dignity as I could muster, I walked out of the room and down the spiral staircase that led to the lower floors. My eyes brimmed with tears, but by the time I reached my destination, I’d blinked them away without shedding a single one. Hermes wasn’t worth it. I would’ve given him everything, but if he couldn’t spare me honesty or fidelity—

I was an idiot for expecting him to stick with me. No one ever did. Not even Mother had much love left for me anymore, not after my failed marriage and centuries of being with Hermes. The only constants in my life were the seasons and Hades. No matter what I did to him, no matter how I acted, he was there for me without complaint. Always.

I should have loved him. I should’ve loved him so much that I ached over the thought of having hurt him. I wanted to so badly that part of me did, but that wall was still there, preventing anything real.

I hated that wall, and if it were possible, I would’ve ripped it down with my bare hands. Loving Hades should’ve been the easiest thing I’d ever done. He was a good man. Better than me, better than Hermes, better than every god and goddess who dared to call themselves Olympians. In a pit of deceit and jealousy, he was the one thing that hadn’t been tainted by time. And I’d hurt him again and again.

Without bothering to knock, I burst into Hades’s chambers. He sat at his desk, shuffling through scrolls and parchment, and he looked up as I strode over to him. “Persephone?” he said, a hint of confusion in his voice. No wonder, either, since I hadn’t stepped foot in his chambers since our wedding night. “To what do I owe—”

Before he could finish, I crawled into his lap and kissed him. Not the kind of hesitant kiss we’d shared few times before, but the burning kisses I’d shared with Hermes. The kind that filled me with fire, all-encompassing and eternal. The kind that begged for more no matter how much I’d already fed it. It was the kind of kiss that no one, not even Hades, could ignore.

And he didn’t. For a long moment, he didn’t move—he didn’t touch me, he didn’t kiss me back, he didn’t react at all. But at last his hands found my hips, and his lips moved against mine with equal fervor.

That wall inside me loomed, as dark and resentful as before, but despite the way my entire body screamed for me to stop, I kept going. His touch burned my skin, and that hatred wrapped around me so completely that I could barely breathe. But I needed this. I needed to be loved, even if the only person who could do it was the man I couldn’t stand.

“Bed,” I whispered between kisses, leaving no room for negotiating. He lifted me up without protest, and I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me across the room. I’d sworn to myself I would never go back here, but as he laid me down amongst the silk, I steeled myself against my body’s protests and pulled him down with me.

I don’t know how long we kissed—long enough for both of us to get undressed, long enough for us to be seconds away from doing something neither of us had thought we’d ever do again. But before we got that far, Hades broke the kiss, his eyes searching mine.

“You’re sure?” he whispered, and after a split second, I forced myself to nod. He loved me—I could see it in the way he looked at me, feel it in the way he touched me, everything. He loved me in a way Hermes never would, and I was an idiot for throwing all of that away without even trying. I knew what love was supposed to feel like now, and I could have that with Hades if I tried. I just had to want it bad enough.

He kissed me again, gentler this time, but he still didn’t close the gap between us. “Why now?” he murmured, brushing his lips against the curve of my neck. I let out a frustrated groan.

“Because—because,” I said, my voice breaking. “Because I want to, and you love me, and—can’t we at least try?”

Hades pulled away enough to look me in the eye. “And what about Hermes?”

I swallowed, and something must have flickered across my face, because Hades frowned. “It’s over with him,” I said. “Please, can’t we just…?”

“Do you love me?” he whispered. I blinked.

“I—I want to.” I ran my hand down his bare arm, feeling the muscle beneath his warm skin. “Please give me the chance to try.”

He exhaled deeply, as if he’d been holding in a breath for eternity. “I made that mistake once.” He kissed me again, this time with aching gentleness. “I will not make it again.”

Suddenly the weight of his body was gone, and he turned away to put his clothes back on. I lay there, exposed and shivering in the open air, and the tears I’d been holding back all evening finally broke through. “Don’t you love me?”

He flinched, staring at the floor. “I love you, Persephone. More than my own existence. But it is because I love you so much that I cannot do this. In time, if we were to take this slowly, I would be honored. Under these circumstances, when I am nothing but a release to you…” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

I opened my mouth to tell him he was so much more than a release, but I couldn’t force the lie out. If anything, he wasn’t even that. He was a way for me to feel loved. A way to get back at Hermes. And I didn’t care if it made things worse, so long as the pain of Hermes’s betrayal disappeared.

But whether I wanted to admit it to myself or not, that wound was far too deep for anything to mask it, even sleeping with Hades. I hurt in a way I’d never hurt before, and Hermes had created a gaping hole in my chest that nothing could fill. I curled up in a ball, not caring that I was still naked, and I let out a choked sob. Hades must have been halfway to his desk by then, but instantly he touched my back. It was a comforting gesture, not a romantic one, and it was something I desperately needed.

“You’re all right,” he murmured, and he wrapped a blanket around me. “Everything will be okay.”

He could say that as much as he wanted, but he didn’t know. He couldn’t. I buried my face in his pillow, making a mess of the deep blue silk, but he didn’t seem to mind. Instead he lay down beside me and gathered me up in a gentle embrace. “It will get easier,” he murmured. “It may not feel like it now, but it will.”

That only made me cry harder. Of course he knew what this was like. I’d done this to him again and again throughout our marriage, and never, not once, had he broken down in front of me. He’d kept that pain bottled up, refusing to take it out on me no matter how much I may have deserved it. Between him and Hermes, there was no contest. Hades would’ve never been with Aphrodite. He would’ve never even thought about her that way. He would’ve been there for me every moment of every day—he had been there for me, and I’d just never seen it before.

And now that I did, now that my eyes were open and I finally understood, I couldn’t be with him. I’d messed it all up. I’d hurt him too badly for us to ever move beyond it. And that wall of hatred and resentment—it would never disappear. Whatever was causing it, whatever had made me feel that way to begin with, we were long past the point of fixing it. That wall was as much a part of me as Hades’s love for me was a part of him. There was no getting around it no matter how hard I tried. If sheer willpower alone could’ve made it crumble, I would’ve managed that a long time ago.

Eventually I fell asleep, and during the night, Hades never left my side. When I awoke, his arms were still wrapped around me, and his eyes were open. He’d spent the entire night holding me, knowing we could never be together the way he wanted, knowing I would almost certainly go out and hurt him again as soon as the pain from Hermes’s betrayal healed.

No. I wouldn’t. Not this time. Hades had already given up too much for me, and no matter how miserable I was, even if it meant an eternity alone, I would never let that wall—I would never let myself—hurt him again.

* * *

Centuries passed, and then eons. Every spring equinox, Hermes was there waiting for me when Hades dropped me off, and I walked past him without a word every single time. Eventually we began to exchange glances, and then smiles; after the first thousand years, he finally came to visit me one summer, and we spent the day tending the garden with my mother. Although we began to talk again, it was never as anything more than uneasy friends.

Without Hermes’s companionship, my summers weren’t much better than my winters anymore. Hades built me several homes scattered across the world, and while I visited each and admired them all, my summers always began and ended at my mother’s cottage. But over time, she grew increasingly distant. Some summers she could pretend nothing was wrong, but I still felt the heat of her disappointment when she thought I wasn’t paying attention. Every glance, every absent hug and kiss—I felt them all, and they wore me down faster than my winter tomb ever could.

Hades and I never became anything more than we were, though I kept my promise to myself: I didn’t cheat on him again. And that faithfulness gave me what small amount of happiness I could find. I’d made mistakes, I’d been a terrible person, but I could at least give Hades my loyalty now. We ruled together, side by side, and we may not have been deliriously happy, but we were content. I grew better at appreciating the small things, finding joy in our routines, and eventually I accepted my fate. This was my life, and the time to change it had long since passed.

All of that shattered the day I saw him.

I was up in the observatory, but instead of watching the afterlives of the dead, I’d let my mind wander to the surface. Though I would’ve rather died than admit it to anyone, occasionally, when I was at my worst, I watched Aphrodite. While I languished in loneliness, she had lover after lover, a whole host of men who would have died for her—and some who really did. She had everything I wanted, and no matter how I tried to console myself, my hatred for her only grew.

But I never stopped watching her. Sometimes to live vicariously through her; sometimes to convince myself that I had it better. I didn’t, of course, but once in a while I’d stumble across moments that let me fool myself into believing it, if only for a short while.

This wasn’t one of those moments. As the last vestiges of sunset stretched across the horizon, Aphrodite splashed in the ocean with the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. He was tall and strong, his face perfectly proportioned and his coloring fair. His smile seemed brighter than the sun, and when he glanced in my direction—unable to see me, of course, but still—my heart pounded, and warmth filled me from head to toe. It was the way Hermes had made me feel so many lifetimes ago. The way I wanted Hades to make me feel.

I was instantly smitten, but I wasn’t the only one. As I watched them together, Aphrodite couldn’t take her eyes off him, either. Despite their games, she constantly kept a hand on him, as if she were afraid he would disappear. Maybe he would. Maybe he was some sort of illusion. There was no other explanation for how someone so handsome could exist and not be one of us.

He tackled her to the sand and tickled her, and her shrieks of delight made my head ache. So she’d won again. Another boy, this time the most perfect one I’d ever seen, and Hephaestus didn’t seem to care. If anything, he’d love her more tomorrow than he did today, because that’s the kind of man he was. Just like Hades.

“Adonis!” she cried, laughing. “Adonis, no, I have to get back. I’m already late as it is.”

“Take me with you,” he murmured, kissing her, and she melted against him. Usually this was my cue to look away or disappear, but something stopped me.

Adonis. That was his name. I whispered it to myself, feeling the syllables roll off my tongue, and I smiled. It was perfect. He was perfect. And I wanted him.

“Mmm, you know I would, but Daddy would kill me,” said Aphrodite, stealing another kiss. “I mean it this time—I really have to go. I have a council meeting.”

I blinked. Adonis knew she was a goddess? Not that men didn’t usually suspect when it came to her, but to actually mention the council…

“Very well,” he said, releasing her with one last kiss. “I will see you again shortly?”

“Soon,” she promised. “I do have to spend some time with my husband, you know.”

He grinned, and she blew him a kiss. A moment later, she disappeared, and Adonis stared at the spot where she’d last stood. He had a wistful look on his face, as if he were thinking about a future he could never have. And if he were really mortal, then he was right. He couldn’t.

Before I could stop and think, I slipped through the barrier between us, and I arrived on the beach in exactly the spot where Aphrodite had stood. Adonis’s eyes widened, and he blinked several times.

“Who are you?” he said, but he didn’t step back. That was something.

“Persephone,” I said. “I didn’t mean to barge in—”

“Persephone? Queen of the Dead?” he said, and now he did stumble backward. Damn. “Am I dying? Am I to be punished for being with the goddess of love herself?”

I snorted. “Please. If every man she slept with died because of it, there’d be no men left in the world. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m not here to carry you off to the Underworld or anything.” Though he had the good sense to fear it, at least. “I just…”

What was I supposed to say? That I’d been spying on him and Aphrodite? That he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen? That I saw my future in his smile, that light and warmth and heart—that I wanted a piece of that happiness, no matter how small?

Oh, please. Love at first sight was the sort of thing Aphrodite believed, not me. I should’ve never come.

But the thought of returning to the Underworld and leaving him behind made my shriveled heart twitch in protest. He was a stranger, but at the same time, when I looked at him, I saw the familiar. I saw everything I’d ever wanted in those blue eyes, and I couldn’t tear myself away.

“You just what?” he said, his voice gentler now, as if he could feel whatever drew me toward him, as well. Maybe he could. Maybe this was another one of Aphrodite’s tricks, designed to humiliate me in front of everyone.

I needed to go. Or come up with a better excuse that had nothing to do with the truth. I took a breath, weighing my options. Not much of a choice. I could no sooner leave him than I could throw myself into the bottomless pit of Tartarus. “You looked—lonely, that’s all. I’m sorry. Please don’t be scared.”

He eyed me, and as the sky turned from rainbow to purple, he relaxed. “It takes loneliness in oneself to recognize it in another.”

“Yes, well. I don’t exactly have a whole host of people in the Underworld begging to come to my parties,” I said wryly.

That got a smile out of him, and it was just as beautiful as the ones he’d given Aphrodite. Maybe even more so, now that this one was meant for me. “I am Adonis,” he said, stepping forward. Though he hesitated, he took my hand and brushed his lips against my knuckles. “I am afraid I do not know the proper protocol for addressing royalty.”

“This isn’t my realm,” I said, “and right now, I’m not the queen of anything. I’m just Persephone.”

That was technically a lie; I still had a month to go before spring, but Adonis didn’t need to know that. “Well, just Persephone, it is the greatest pleasure and honor of my humble existence to set eyes on a creature as beautiful as you.”

I blushed. “Please. I know you’ve seen Aphrodite.”

“And yet I speak the truth.”

No wonder Aphrodite liked him. He could probably talk his way out of the Underworld. “Do you live here?” I said, and he nodded.

“Aphrodite brought me here to keep me safe,” he said. “Though safe from what, I’m afraid I do not know.”

I did. One look at Adonis, and it was obvious Aphrodite was worried someone else would claim him for their own. “What about your home? Your family?”

He shrugged and took my arm as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I have none.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Adonis shook his head, and his blond curls fell into his eyes. “Don’t be. All the more time to spend with you. Do goddesses eat? Might I interest you in dinner?”

I should’ve said no. Hades would miss me before long, and I’d promised myself I would never betray him again. But Adonis made me feel as if I was flying—one look, one smile, and that was enough to wash all of the bad away. This was what I’d missed since Hermes. This was what I’d craved. And no matter how much I loved him, Hermes was nothing compared to Adonis.

“Yes,” I said. “I think I have time for dinner.”

He beamed and brushed his lips against my cheek. The spot where he’d touched me seemed to sear itself into my skin, and as he led me toward the edge of the woods, I hugged his arm. It wouldn’t hurt to miss one evening with Hades. I’d make it up to him, stay an extra day after the spring equinox or something. But nothing, not even my soul-crushing guilt, could make me walk away from Adonis.

* * *

Each evening, after Hades and I finished our judgments, I visited Adonis. Sometimes I stayed for a few minutes, sometimes for hours, always timed to make sure Aphrodite would never find us. But she stayed away more and more, always grumbling about Ares or Hephaestus needing her attention. Adonis never complained, and she never asked why.

But I was that reason. The time I spent with Adonis was bliss, and from the way he lit up upon seeing me, I knew it wasn’t just me. Together we explored the island hand in hand, and we talked about everything. My life, his, the role the council played in the lives of mortals—Aphrodite had told him far more than we were permitted to tell mortals, and that made the conversation much easier. I wasn’t bending any rules she hadn’t already broken, and Adonis seemed to enjoy hearing about what we did.

Mortals already told stories about my family—some true, some embellished, some outright ridiculous, and Adonis took great joy in relaying them to me. We made a game of it; he would remove or replace the names, and I would try to guess which member of my family he was talking about. I’d never laughed so hard in my entire existence.

I didn’t kiss him though, and while we held hands, he never pressed for more. I couldn’t give it to him, not while it was still winter. Not while I was still Hades’s. Being here was enough betrayal on its own. I couldn’t make things worse no matter how tempting Adonis was.

I ached for spring to come. We talked about Mother’s cottage and how we might get one of our own; Adonis had never had a home before, not a proper one he’d chosen for himself, and he relished the idea of seeing the place that had become my summer retreat. As spring neared, I grew giddy with the thought of showing him my home and sharing my summer with him. He, in turn, was never too embarrassed to tell me exactly how excited he was, as well.

That was the best part about being with him—the honesty. The openness. After millennia of enduring the lies and secrets within my family, even down in the Underworld, it was a relief not to question every word he said. He was everything I’d ever wanted, and even if I could only have him as a friend, that would still be more than I’d ever thought I’d have.

But I did want more. I longed to kiss him, to touch him, to bask in his outer beauty as much as I enjoyed the beauty inside. We were perfect together in every way, and as soon as I could, I would steal him from Aphrodite and give him the life he wanted. The life he deserved. The life we both deserved.

Days before the spring equinox, he and I sat together on the beach, our hands clasped as we laughed over a story he’d told me about his childhood. I was oblivious to our surroundings, barely aware of time passing at all, and it was only the look on Adonis’s face that alerted me to the fact that something was wrong.

I turned. Standing in the sand, her arms crossed and a scowl on her pretty little face, was Aphrodite.

Lovely.

“I wasn’t aware it was spring already. What are you doing here?” she said in a sickeningly sweet voice.

“Talking to a friend,” I said, not bothering to match her tone. Adonis knew exactly how I felt about her. “What are you doing here? Cheating on your dozen boyfriends?”

She scoffed. “Only a dozen? You severely underestimate me. Hi, love,” she said to Adonis. “Is Persephone bothering you? I can make her leave, if you’d like.”

I bristled. “Make me leave? How? By cooing at me?”

“Don’t you have a husband to get back to?” she snapped.

“Don’t you?”

She sniffed. “He knows exactly where I am, though I’m willing to bet Hades has absolutely no idea where you are. You do know who she is, don’t you, Adonis? And who her husband is? He controls your afterlife, you know. Are you really willing to risk that?”

Adonis stared at our intertwined fingers. At least he wasn’t trying to make me let go, but he didn’t say anything, either. I squeezed his hand.

“Adonis and I are friends, nothing more.” The urge to rip her hair out twisted inside me, and it took every ounce of my self-control to stay seated. “Though he will be coming to stay with me on the spring equinox.”

“Is that so?” Aphrodite raised an eyebrow. “And who decided that?”

“Adonis did.”

She huffed. “You have no right to come here and steal him like—”

“Like what? Like you stole Hermes?”

She let out a bitter, empty laugh. “Is that why you’re doing this? Because of Hermes? That was eons ago.”

“I’m doing this because Adonis is my friend, and I love him,” I said with as much dignity as I could muster. “It’s his life, and you don’t get a say in it.”

“Adonis, tell her,” demanded Aphrodite, not taking her eyes off me. I glared back. “Adonis.”

To my immense satisfaction, Adonis said nothing. I smirked, even though it was petty, and Aphrodite let out a frustrated screech that startled the seagulls.

“Daddy!” she shrieked, and even though the sky was blue and clear, thunder rumbled through the air. Adonis’s eyes widened, and he started to stand, but I gently tugged on his hand.

“It’s fine,” I said quietly. “He won’t hurt you.” I hoped.

Lightning sizzled on the beach, and in the blink of an eye, Zeus arrived. No chance in hell he would’ve come that quickly if I’d been the one to call. Standing an even distance away from us, he frowned and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Dare I even ask?”

Aphrodite was in tears now, and of course she looked beautiful when she cried. I hated her. “Per-Persephone is trying to steal Adonis from me.”

My mouth dropped open. “Excuse me? He wants to stay with me, and he has every right to choose his own life.”

“He already chose me long before you showed up, you cow.”

“Cow? You vain little—”

“Enough, girls.” Zeus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Aphrodite, start at the beginning.”

She sniffed and straightened her shoulders, looking down her nose at me. “Adonis and I’ve been together for ages. We love each other, and we’re perfect together, naturally.”

“If you’re so perfect together, then why do you keep him trapped on this island?” I said.

“I’m not trapping him. I’m protecting him.”

“From what? Other girls who might actually be able to devote themselves to him completely?” I snapped.

“Persephone,” said Zeus in a warning tone, and I huffed. This was completely unfair. Not just for me, but for Adonis, too. It was obvious he wasn’t going to speak up in his own defense, though. Not that I blamed him, of course—my father could be intimidating at the best of times, and I was a goddess. I couldn’t imagine what being in his presence was like for a mortal.

“I keep him here to protect him from Ares,” said Aphrodite. “He’s been acting a little jealous lately, and there’s no point in causing a skirmish.”

As if she hadn’t caused a million of those in her existence. I sandwiched Adonis’s hand in both of mine. Screw Zeus’s commands. I wasn’t going to stay quiet, not about this. “So not only are you keeping him here like some kind of pet, but you’re endangering his life, too. What sort of love is that?”

Aphrodite’s face turned red. “How dare you—”

“Silence, both of you,” said Zeus in a voice that rolled like thunder, and even Aphrodite obeyed. “Adonis—that is your name, yes?”

He swallowed and nodded, averting his eyes. His grip would’ve likely broken my bones if I hadn’t been immortal.

“What is it you choose to do, Adonis?”

I exhaled. A choice. At least Adonis would have that much. I patted his hand. “It’s all right,” I whispered, and across from me, Aphrodite stomped her foot in protest. Too bad.

“I…” He stopped and shook his head, staring at the sand. Why, because he thought Aphrodite would curse him if he didn’t choose her?

Probably. And I wouldn’t put it past her, either. “It’s your life,” I whispered. “Remember that.”

But he still said nothing. At last Zeus ran out of patience. “Very well, then I will decide. In the absence of the young man’s opinion, I will split his time equally between both of you. He will spend one third of the year with Aphrodite, one third of the year with Persephone and for the final third, he will do what he pleases. Is everyone happy?”

No, not in the least, and judging by the pinched look on Aphrodite’s face, she wasn’t, either. But we both nodded, and Adonis didn’t protest. He barely even blinked.

“So be it. Now, if my beloved daughters do not mind, I have matters much more important than this to attend to.” Without another word, he disappeared, and instantly Adonis relaxed.

I turned to Aphrodite. I could’ve said a million things to her, but instead I blurted, “Why wasn’t Zeus mad that you told Adonis who you are?”

Aphrodite shrugged, clearly put out over having to share him. “Because I’ve been lobbying Daddy to let Adonis join us, of course. But now you had to go and ruin it, didn’t you?”

I snorted. “And how did I ruin it? You’re the one who wouldn’t let him make up his own damn mind.”

“Persephone.” Adonis’s voice was hoarse, but at least his grip on my hand wasn’t quite so tight anymore. “I apologize to you both for not speaking up. It is just…”

“No need. We both know Daddy’s a little intimidating sometimes,” said Aphrodite cheerfully, though there was a glint in her eyes as she looked at me. “But now that Daddy’s made a decision, we have to figure out who gets what third.”

I scowled. No doubt she’d try to make me take the winter months. “I want him starting on the spring equinox. The entire spring and first month of summer.”

She eyed me, and I steeled myself for the fight I knew was coming. Instead of objecting, however, she nodded. “Yes, I think that’s an excellent idea. I’ll take the next four months, and then Adonis can do whatever he pleases with the final four.”

I blinked. That was it? Not even a hint of protest? “What’s your game, Aphrodite?”

“Game?” she said, her eyes widening innocently. A sure sign she was lying through her teeth. “Is it so terrible to give my sister a chance at happiness?”

There wasn’t much I could say to that, not without looking like a monster in front of Adonis. I would figure it out eventually though, and when I did, I would rip her apart. “Fine. At the start of the spring equinox, you and I will go to my cottage,” I said to Adonis. “And Aphrodite will stay very, very far away.”

She sniffed. “Fine, as long as you promise to never come back here, either. This is my island, not yours.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

We glared at each other. This war wasn’t over, but for now, we had no choice but to call a ceasefire. I would discover her game soon enough, and until then, I wasn’t about to let her or Zeus or anyone ruin my time with Adonis.

* * *

On the morning of the spring equinox, Hades dropped me off in the meadow as he’d done thousands of times before. I leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek goodbye, nothing more than what it was, but he stiffened.

I frowned and looked behind me. Standing in the clearing, as promised, was Adonis. And Hermes. And Mother.

Terrific.

“And that, I take it, is Adonis?” said Hades quietly, and I blanched.

“Yes.” Who had told him? Aphrodite or Zeus? Did it even matter? “We’re just friends.”

“For now,” he said softly, and I gave him that peck on the cheek.

“I’ll see you on the autumnal equinox. Take care of yourself.”

He remained stoic as I walked across the meadow, and a knot of guilt formed in the pit of my stomach. I should’ve told him, but these seasons were mine, and telling him before anything had happened wouldn’t have made it any easier. It wouldn’t have made him hurt any less.

I ignored Hermes completely. He frowned as I passed, but to my relief, he didn’t say anything. The situation was awkward enough as it was without his getting involved. Instead I headed toward Adonis first, taking his hand and giving him a smile. He returned it, albeit nervously, and he glanced over my shoulder. At Hades, no doubt. “It’s fine,” I said, and I led him toward Mother. “I want you to meet my mother, Demeter. Mother, this is—”

“I know who he is,” said Mother quietly. Instead of welcoming him like I expected, as Adonis bowed in greeting, her lips curled back with contempt. “I thought you were past this, Persephone.”

“Past what?” I said. “Past making friends? Past wanting to be happy?”

“Past causing your husband pain in the most deplorable way possible,” said Mother. Beside me, Adonis straightened, and I touched his elbow. No need for him to waste effort if she was going to be cruel about it.

“You’re the reason that me finding a bit of happiness is so deplorable in the first place,” I said. “If you can’t support me, then fine, I don’t need your support. And I don’t need you here, either.”

I didn’t know what I expected—an angry retort, a sneer, Mother to break down and beg my forgiveness. Either way, I didn’t expect her to fold her hands, give Adonis a slight nod and disappear completely.

All the air left my lungs, and I stared at the empty space where she’d stood moments before. She’d gotten mad at me before, of course, and her disappointment over the years had become impossible to bear. But never had she turned her back on me. Not like this.

“I am sorry,” whispered Adonis, his lips brushing against my temple. The regret in his voice only made the ache inside me grow.

“Don’t be. Please.” He shouldn’t have had to suffer for my mistakes. “Let’s just go.”

“All right,” murmured Adonis, leading me down the path I’d traveled thousands of times before. I trailed after him, heartbroken and empty, and not even the warm weight of his hand in mine brought me comfort.

I thought I’d known what loneliness felt like, but it wasn’t until I walked that trail without Mother that I finally understood. Even in my darkest hour, Mother had been there for me. She’d loved and supported me no matter how often or hard we fought. And now—

Now the one person I’d always needed, the one person I’d thought would always be there for me, was gone.

* * *

That summer was simultaneously the best and worst of my life.

The hole Mother had left inside me only grew as it became clear she had no intention of returning. But at the same time, those four months with Adonis filled me in a way nothing ever had before. Every moment was an adventure—I’d explored the forest around the cottage countless times, but somehow every day he managed to find something new, something small but beautiful that I’d overlooked. A wild garden full of exotic flowers that tangled together in chaos. A tree so ancient and gnarled that I suspected it outdated Zeus. He reintroduced me to things I’d long since lost—the warmth of the sun on my skin, the shiver down my spine as I stepped into a cool river. He gave me back pieces of my life I’d never realized I missed.

No one could deny Adonis was gorgeous, but the more I got to know him, the more I realized that his appearance was little more than a taste of his inner beauty. He was kind, generous, honest and, despite the fact that Aphrodite had gotten to him, he was innocent in a way I hadn’t been since my marriage eons ago. He had nothing but love inside him, and he radiated it every waking hour. I drank it in, letting it fill me until all of the negativity washed away, and by the time four months was up, I’d never been more content with my lot in life. All of it, every last terrible moment, was worth it now that I knew it had led me to Adonis.

In the middle of summer, Aphrodite came to claim him. To her credit, she was mostly polite about it, only giving me a small smirk when Adonis turned his back. But the instant they left, that hole in my heart opened up, hemorrhaging all of the happiness I’d collected during our four months together.

I cried harder than I ever had before. Now that Adonis was no longer there to act as a buffer, for days I did nothing but curl up in bed and stare at the wall as reality set in.

Mother hated me. I’d cheated on Hades again. Hermes was barely talking to me, and the one light in my life was currently with a blonde whore who couldn’t possibly love him the way I did. He was just another toy to her, and the thought of him going through that, having no say in his time with Aphrodite the way I’d had no say in my time with Hades—

It wasn’t fair, but there was nothing I could do about it, either. Zeus had made up his mind, and if Adonis wasn’t willing to speak up on his own behalf, then so be it.

Though I wasn’t proud of it, I spied on them. He didn’t kiss her the way he kissed me; he didn’t watch her the way he watched me. And every time Aphrodite laughed, I swore I saw him flinch.

That should’ve given me some amount of satisfaction, but it only made me more miserable. Adonis should’ve had what I didn’t—freedom. And instead, in my quest to find happiness, I’d stolen that from him. Did that make me as bad as Hades? As bad as Mother and Zeus?

Eventually summer turned into autumn, and it was time for me to return to the Underworld. Hades greeted me in the meadow as always, but rather than a smile and a kiss on the cheek, he simply nodded coldly and took my hand without a word. Whatever he’d gone through in those six months, whatever thoughts and questions had haunted him, had also ruined every step of progress we’d made in the thousands of years since Hermes and I had broken up. And more than ever, self-loathing snaked through me, doing nothing but compounding my despair. I didn’t deserve Hades’s friendship. I didn’t deserve Adonis, not after doing this to him. I didn’t deserve any of it.

Those six months in the Underworld were blank. I went through the motions of existing, but some integral part of who I was had given up entirely. Hades stopped spending the evening with me. He no longer brought me breakfast. He could barely stand to look at me even when we had to, even when a mortal’s eternity depended on our communication. And rather than take steps to fix it, all I could do was drown in the darkness that was my life. Not even the promise of four months with Adonis in the spring made it better.

After several weeks of spying on Adonis and Aphrodite, I stopped, unable to stomach seeing him so upset any longer. But eventually her time with him passed as well, and shortly before the spring equinox, I couldn’t resist checking in on Adonis once more.

He stood in a stream I didn’t recognize, using a net to capture fish. I watched him, invisible to his eyes, and just seeing him like this—free and happy—was enough to make me smile. Four months wasn’t forever, and one day Aphrodite would grow bored of him. I never would though, and eventually, when mortality claimed him, I would have him entirely to myself. Aphrodite wouldn’t be able to touch him in the Underworld.

Behind me, someone giggled, and a cold wave of dread crashed through me, washing away what little warmth had blossomed. Even though it was his four months of freedom, even though everything I’d witnessed made it clear he didn’t love her, Aphrodite skipped out of the trees, a flower tucked behind her ear.

“Adonis! There you are.” She stepped into the stream with him and set a hand on his bare back. “Any luck?”

He shook his head. “A few close calls.”

“Well, I’ll just ask the nymphs to make us dinner then,” she murmured. “I’m starving.”

Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed him on the mouth, her hand dancing downward toward his waist. She wasn’t hungry for food, that was for damn sure.

I was going to kill her.

This was supposed to be Adonis’s time alone, not an extra third of a year for her. And why was he going along with this? Why hadn’t he refused her and walked away?

The same reason he hadn’t spoken up when Zeus had asked him, more than likely. Mortals with any sense of self-preservation didn’t question a god. Even one as feeble as Aphrodite.

I didn’t hesitate. I pulled my body through the space between us as I’d done almost exactly a year ago, and this time Aphrodite didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see me.

“I was wondering when you’d stick your nose where it doesn’t belong,” she chirped, sliding her arm around Adonis’s torso. He paled at the sight of me, and though he tried to step back from Aphrodite, she held on. Naturally. Couldn’t risk letting her trophy think for himself, else her precious ego might be bruised.

“You don’t have to spend these months with her,” I said to Adonis, keeping my voice as steady as I could. “You know that, don’t you?”

He nodded and averted his eyes, his fishing net all but forgotten. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I said, glaring at Aphrodite. “I’m sure this wasn’t your idea. Why are you here with her?”

“I couldn’t just turn him away in the middle of winter, now, could I?” said Aphrodite, her eyes wide.

“He spends those four months alone. That was our deal,” I said.

She tilted her head and gave me the perfect imitation of a smile. “Oh? I recall Daddy saying he could spend this third doing whatever he wanted. And rather than starving to death, he chose to remain with me.”

That conniving bitch. I raised my hand to slap her, but what was the point when she couldn’t feel pain? “So that’s why you let me have the first four months with him—so you could trick him into spending his free four with you.”

She laughed. “Of course. Honestly, it’s not like he could go to you anyway, so why shouldn’t he spend them with me? He loves me.”

“Not the way he loves me,” I snarled.

“Is that so? Adonis, tell Persephone how much you love me.”

He grimaced, not meeting either of our stares. At last he slipped from Aphrodite’s grip, and taking his net, he splashed toward shore without a word.

Fine. If he wouldn’t defend himself, then I would.

“See? He can’t even answer you,” I said, drawing myself up to my full height. “He loves me without trickery, and if I were here to spend time with him—”

“But you aren’t,” said Aphrodite. “Don’t you see that? Hephaestus knows about my affairs—he knows this is something I need in order to be myself, and he accepted that long before we married. But Hades didn’t. Despite everything you’ve done to him, he loves you. He’s loved you for so long that it’s as much a part of him as the Underworld is now. And even though you have his unconditional, endless love, you have no problem turning your back on him and hurting him in the worst ways possible.”

I opened my mouth to speak, fury building inside me faster than I could release it, but she kept going. She stood only inches in front of me now, her nose practically touching mine, and it took everything I had not to throttle her.

“You’re selfish, Persephone. You’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met. You hurt Demeter. You hurt Hermes. You hurt Hades so badly that he’s nothing more than a ghost of who he was before you ripped his heart out and fed it to the dogs. You hurt people again and again, and the worst part about it is that you don’t care. You can claim to love Adonis all you want, but he’ll never have all of you. And one day, you’re going to hurt him the way you’ve hurt everyone else in your life, and I won’t let that happen.”

I stared at her, every word I’d planned to fling back in her face dissolving on my tongue. In spite of her many flaws, Aphrodite knew love, and she knew people. She could see the good side and the bad, and she, more than any of us, could weigh them against each other rather than rushing to judgment. And if that’s how the most understanding of us saw me—

Maybe it was our battle over Adonis. Maybe it was my constant jealousy. Maybe she just wanted to win. But even so, she still wouldn’t say those things if she didn’t believe them.

The weight of her words crashed down around me, leaving me shaking and exposed and vulnerable in a way I’d never been before. Was that what the entire council thought of me? Was that how Hades saw me? And Mother—did she believe it, too?

Were they right?

“I—” I swallowed. “I need to go.” Stepping back, I mustered what little strength I had left and said, “Cut him loose, Aphrodite. Give him his freedom. If you really love him…” I shook my head, and without giving her the chance to rub salt in my already gaping wound, I disappeared back to the Underworld. Back to Hades.

Back where I belonged.

* * *

I stayed in the observatory for the rest of the night, not bothering to go to my chambers. Hades wouldn’t notice, and on the remote chance he did decide to come visit me, I needed to be alone.

I turned Aphrodite’s words over in my mind again and again without reprieve. She was right, and I hated myself for it. I hated myself for every bit of it. But at the same time, she didn’t understand—she didn’t see the whole picture, the life I’d lived and the things I’d missed, things she’d never wanted for. She was loved wherever she went by everyone who set eyes on her. Me—I was the dreaded Queen of the Underworld. I was the person no one wanted to see, and when I did run across the rare mortal on the surface, they all fled. Except Adonis.

To Aphrodite, he was nothing more than an exceptionally beautiful toy, but to me, he was everything I’d never had before. She didn’t understand that—how could she, when her world was saturated with love? She would never be alone. She would never face an eternity of loneliness and heartache. But that was my reality, and no matter how good a judge of character she was, it simply wasn’t in her capacity to understand that.

By the time morning came, I itched with the need to defend myself. For a few minutes, I debated going up to the surface and giving her a piece of my mind, but it wouldn’t do any good right now. I needed her to understand, and in order to make that happen, my argument had to be perfect.

I dragged myself to the throne room at the appointed time, and when Hades trudged down the aisle, I was already seated in my throne. The way he eyed me confirmed he knew I hadn’t spent the night in my chambers, and I made a mental note to straighten that out later. He deserved the truth. And an apology.

At last the judgments got under way. They were routine, for the most part—mortals who hadn’t believed in the afterlife, or mortals who had believed, but had never anticipated what it might be like. A few children mixed in with the adults as well, and those judgments always hurt the most, seeing their young lives over before they’d begun. Hades and I had agreed long ago that they would always be granted their happiest memories regardless of whatever hell a handful of them thought they deserved.

The throne room was full that day, and by the time evening came, we’d barely made it through half. Hades and I had other duties as well, of course, but neither of us halted the proceedings. I stole a glance at him, searching for signs of fatigue, but he was as stoic as ever. And I was too keyed up from my fight with Aphrodite to stop, either.

A woman moved to the spot before us where countless other souls had stood. Her hair was long and stringy, and her hands shook as she regarded us with a wavering gaze.

“I know that because of my misdeeds, I am to be banished to an eternity of fire and brimstone to dance with the devil himself,” she said, her voice shaking as much as her hands. “But I beg of you—I only acted out of love.”

“And what are these acts of which you speak?” said Hades in a low voice. The woman winced.

“I—betrayed my husband. But he wasn’t good to me, your majesty. He had little love for me, and after a time, I could no longer love someone who didn’t love me back. I cherished my vow to him for as long as I could, but—when I met someone else, someone who loved and appreciated me…”

She broke down, and I glanced at Hades. Was this his idea of a joke? His brow was knitted, however, and he clutched the arms of his black-diamond throne. No way he’d planned this.

Our eyes met, and he quickly looked away. So he was aware of the irony, as well. Not that adulteresses were all that uncommon, but this woman’s story tugged at me in a way none of the others before her had. Maybe it was because of Aphrodite, or maybe Adonis—whatever it was, I ached for her.

“This other man,” I said, and the woman focused on me, wringing her hands desperately. “He made your life worthwhile?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “He made me content. He made me feel as if I were loved.”

“Yet you took a vow to remain faithful to your husband,” said Hades. “Did you believe your affair to be wrong, despite how it made you feel?”

Her eyes watered. “Y-yes.”

“But what good was her vow when it was choking the life out of her?” I said, turning toward Hades. “What’s more important—a few words in front of family and friends, or her entire life’s happiness?”

“Yes, what is more important, Persephone?” he said. “Her virtue or her own selfish desires?”

I clenched my jaw. There was that word again—selfish. So that was how he saw me, as well. “How can you call her selfish when all she was trying to do was find some small joy in her life?”

“And how can you not see the pain and humiliation she must have brought upon her husband?”

“Maybe if he’d listened to what she wanted, she would’ve never had to stray.”

“Perhaps if she gave him a chance to prove himself, she would have never felt the need to break her vows to begin with.”

I slammed my hand onto my armrest. “And maybe if she’d had a choice in the first place—”

The doors to the antechamber opened suddenly, and Hades and I both looked up, along with every soul in the throne room. Hermes stood in the doorway, and upon seeing everyone staring at him, he turned pink and hurried down the aisle.

Hades sighed and leaned back in his throne. “What is it, Hermes?”

Hermes glanced at me, his lips pressed together, and he hesitated. “I’m sorry for interrupting—”

“Then get on with it,” said Hades. I glared at him, but he stared straight ahead. Bastard.

Hermes shuffled his feet, his brow furrowed and his eyes glued to the marble floor. All my pent-up anger drained away, and my heart sank. Whatever it was couldn’t be good.

“It’s Adonis,” he said. “He’s dead.”