The Goddess Test Boxed Set: Goddess Interrupted\The Goddess Inheritance\The Goddess Legacy (99 page)

“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.”

Part Three

  

Naturally Aphrodite was responsible.

Not directly, of course, but close enough. Ares, who we all
knew was the jealous type, had sicced a wild boar on Adonis the moment Aphrodite
had left his side. Why she hadn't seen that coming, I didn't know—more
important, why she'd put Adonis in that sort of danger, knowing Ares might try
to take revenge…

It didn't matter. Adonis was a citizen of my realm now, and I
sat frozen in my throne as Hermes explained what had happened. Hades dismissed
the remaining dead, leaving the three of us alone, and the tension was as high
as ever between us. I'd searched the faces of the departing souls, but Adonis
wasn't among them. No surprise there, really. Only a small percentage of our
subjects needed to be judged.

“I'm sorry,” said Hermes once he'd finished his horrific story.
Adonis had bled to death on the bank of a river, and nausea rolled through me as
I imagined his blood mixing with the water. How long had it taken him to die?
How badly had it hurt? Had Ares stood there, watching the life drain out of
him?

“Do not apologize,” said Hades. “For once, this is not your
doing. Persephone?”

It was the first time he'd addressed me all winter. I looked
up, blinking away my tears. There was no point in crying. I couldn't change the
pain Adonis had gone through, and at least now he was safe from Aphrodite's
games. “I'm all right,” I whispered. “I need to go.”

His lips thinned, but even though he must've known exactly
where I was going, he nodded. “Very well. Make it quick.”

I stood, and without bidding them goodbye, I pushed myself
through the space between myself and Adonis's new eternity. In that split
second, a barrage of images flashed through my mind—possibilities of his
afterlife. The shore where we'd first met. Mother's cottage. Even his childhood
home, which I'd never seen, but he'd told me about in passing. What were
Adonis's favorite memories? Which ones would he want to surround himself with
for the rest of forever?

I held my breath as my feet landed on solid ground once more.
Instead of the green forest I'd expected, however, swirls of white surrounded
me, and something soft and cold brushed my cheek. Snow.

My feet were buried in several inches of it, and it fell
heavily from the gray sky, thick enough that I couldn't see my hands. This
couldn't possibly be right.

“Adonis?” I called. I must've managed to land on the edge of
another soul's afterlife. One step in the right direction, and this would melt
away, returning me to the familiar. “It's me—where are you?”

A groan cut through the silence, and my heart leaped into my
throat. I scrambled through the drifts of snow, unused to moving around in it.
We didn't exactly get any at Mother's cottage during the summer.

My foot caught on something, and I flew forward, landing on my
hands and knees. With my nose to the ground, I saw a patch of crimson leading to
a soft mound only a few feet away. And visible through the snow were several
locks of familiar blond hair.

No. Not possible. My body turned to ice, and I forced myself to
move toward him. Brushing the snow away, I found the mangled remains of a torso
slowly healing itself, and my stomach convulsed.

“Adonis,” I whispered, brushing away the rest of the snow to
reveal his face. His cheeks were as white as the world around us, and his eyes
were dull and his lips blue. He blinked slowly, as if every effort to move was a
war, and I gently gathered him up.

“Per-Persephone?” he whispered, hoarse.

“Yes, of course.” I brushed a few flakes from his forehead.
“Come. We're going to get you out of here.”

“No.” A drop of strength returned, and gritting his teeth, he
tried to move from my grip. But he was too weak and I was too determined to
never let him go again. “You—you have to—”

“I have to what? Let you suffer like this?”

“I deserve it.” He slumped against me. “Please.”

“You don't deserve this. No one deserves this.”

“I do. For…for hurting you. Aphrodite. Your families.” He took
a great shuddering breath, and a river of blood flowed from his healing body.
What had done this to him? “I saw the look on Hades's face—”

A roar ripped through the quiet, and a great white bear
appeared through the veil of snow. It bared its teeth, its muzzle stained with
red, and its paw lashed out at me. Sharp claws clashed against my skin, but it
did no damage. And I wasn't going to let it hurt Adonis again, either.

“Be gone,” I ordered. “I am your queen, and you will obey
me.”

It let out another roar, standing tall on its hind legs.
“Please, let me…” whispered Adonis, and I held him closer.

“No,” I said desperately. “You don't deserve this. It was never
your battle, all right? Please—you can make this better for yourself. You can
control it.”

The bear struck again, and as its claws caught my face, I
screamed. Not in pain, not in fear, but with unadulterated fury. At myself, at
Aphrodite, at this damned and miserable place—this couldn't be Adonis's
eternity. It couldn't.

With a thought, I dragged him through the space between his
section of the Underworld and the palace, leaving the bear behind. A swirl of
snow puffed around us as we landed in the throne room, and in my arms, Adonis
groaned. His wounds healed instantly, and his color returned far faster than it
would have if he were still alive, but his face still pinched in pain.

“Persephone.” Hades stood. “What are you doing?”

“He was torturing himself,” I said, helping Adonis sit up. His
expression was blank, and he showed no surprise at suddenly appearing in a
palace. Not many souls realized where they were, but Adonis should've known.

“So you removed him from his afterlife?”

I wrapped my arms around Adonis. “I had no choice.”

“But it was not your choice to make.”

“A bear was eating him alive in the middle of a blizzard,” I
snapped. “I don't care what his religion or beliefs dictate. What did he ever do
to deserve that?”

Hades's expression remained painfully neutral. “Some might say
that having an affair with not one, but two married goddesses might very well be
enough of a catalyst to make him believe he deserved eternal torture.”

“He makes me
happy
.” My words were
thick, and I clung to Adonis. Hades wouldn't have his way, not this time. “We
have to fix this.”

“You know the rules. If a mortal does not ask for our guidance,
we do not tamper with their afterlife.”

“I don't care about your damn rules. I care about Adonis.”

“And what of me?” said Hades softly. The pain that had faded
during those eons of peace between us flickered across his face, the first hint
of emotion I'd seen from him in months. “You are asking me to go against my own
laws and condone your affairs.”

“I'm asking you to do the right thing. You once told me that
all you wanted was for me to be happy. Is that still true?”

Silence, and at last he nodded.

“Adonis makes me happy. He makes me happier than you or Hermes
or anyone ever has. Not because he's beautiful, but because we're two halves of
the same whole. I found my person, Hades. And I am so sorry—sorrier than I can
ever possibly tell you—that it isn't you. But it's Adonis. And I would give up
everything to make sure he's all right, even if it meant I could never see him
again. It would hurt like hell, but I would do it if it meant getting him out of
there.” I shifted. “Please. I am begging you—do something.”

Hades closed his eyes, his face crumpling. It was the closest
I'd ever seen him come to crying. For a long moment he said nothing, and Hermes
looked back and forth between us as if deciding whether or not to speak.

“I am sorry,” said Hades, his voice nothing but feeble words
and anguish. “You know as well as I that there is nothing. The only person who
can change his afterlife is Adonis himself.”

“Then—then what could make him change it?” I said. “Could we
reason with him? Make him see that it's my fault, not his? Could you—forgive him
or—”

Hades looked away, the firelight reflecting in his watery eyes.
No, he would not forgive him, and my face burned with shame for even asking.
Besides, Adonis wasn't the one he had to forgive. I was.

I buried my face in the crook of Adonis's neck, rocking him
back and forth. He couldn't go back there. I would've given anything—my freedom,
my love, my entire existence to make sure he didn't, but what did I have that
could possibly change his mind?

“I'm sorry,” I whispered. “I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you.
Please don't do this. Please—isn't there something you want more than to torture
yourself?”

He took my hand and brushed his thumb against my palm. Me. He
wanted me. Even in the blizzard, he'd called out to me, letting me save him well
past the point it should've been possible.

An idea formed in my mind, something so crazy and preposterous
that I discarded it immediately. But it cropped up again before I could move on,
burrowing itself into my thoughts, refusing to let go.

It was mad. Beyond words. Even as I struggled to find something
real, however, it persisted.

I could do it with the council's permission. It would shatter
everything, and there would be no going back, but if I did—if Adonis really
loved me the way I loved him—it might be crazy enough to work.

“Hermes,” I said in as steady a voice as I could muster. “Would
you please help Adonis into one of the guest rooms and keep him company? I need
to speak with my husband alone.”

“Of course,” mumbled Hermes, and he helped Adonis to his feet.
Adonis stumbled, but he managed to right himself, and at last he let go of my
hand. But even as the pair of them walked up the aisle, his touch still lingered
on my skin.

Yes. It was mad. It was insane. But I loved him too much not to
try.

Once they were gone, I stood and smoothed my dress. “Sit down,”
I said softly, and though Hades frowned, he obeyed. I took a deep breath. Now or
never. “I want to give up my immortality.”

His silver eyes widened, and his jaw went lax. Before he could
object, I continued.

“The way you feel for me—that's how I feel for Adonis. I love
him. He breathed life back into me, and I want nothing more than to spend
eternity with him. You would give up your immortality for me. I know you would.
And I cannot tell you how much that means to me—how much
you
mean to me, even if I can't show you the way you want me to. But
I want to do the same for Adonis. And I need your help.”

Hades stared at me for the longest minutes of my life. He
didn't blink, he didn't breathe, and even his heart stopped beating. The silence
grew around us, heavy with everything we both couldn't say, and at last I
reached forward to touch his hand.

“This is the greatest gift you could ever give me,” I said
softly. “I've spent my existence living a life I never wanted. I couldn't be
more grateful for all you've done for me, but we will never be happy together.
Not the way I am with Adonis, and not the way you deserve to be. I've done
terrible things to you, things I can never make up for, and I've broken more
promises than I can count. But if you do this for me, if you support me in front
of the council and give me your permission to step down from my throne, I
promise I will love you until the sun fades and there is nothing left of
me.”

A single tear escaped the corner of his eye, trickling down his
cheek and pooling at the corner of his mouth. The shadows in the throne room
danced with the torches' flames, and for an eternity, our eyes locked together
as he searched for something he would never find.

Hades set his free hand over mine, and at last he whispered,
“Very well. If it means your happiness, then you may be free.”

I touched his cheek, brushing away the glistening trail on his
skin. “Thank you.”

He nodded once and stood, brushing past me without a word. In
his measured gait, he walked up the aisle, and before he could reach the door,
he was gone.

* * *

The council convened less than an hour later. Whatever
Hades had said to get them all to appear must have been something, but then
again, no one had tried to give up their immortality before.

I stood in the center of the Olympic throne room, surrounded by
the fourteen members of the council. My own throne was gone. Zeus rose as
Mother, the final member to join us, took her seat, and my heart hammered. She
refused to look at me.

“Daughter,” said Zeus, and I inclined my head with as much
respect as I could bear to show him. He was the reason I was in this situation
to begin with, after all. “Our brother has informed us that you desire to step
down from your role as Queen of the Underworld and shed your immortality, all to
be with a mortal.”

“Yes,” I said, glancing at Aphrodite. Her eyes were thin as
slits, and she gripped the arms of her throne so tightly that her knuckles were
white. Good. “While it pains me deeply to think of leaving all of you, I ask for
you to allow me to step away in order to die. Adonis, the mortal I love, is
trapped in eternal torture in the Underworld, and the only way I can help him is
to give him an afterlife he wants more.”

“You are certain this will work?” said Athena.

I shook my head. “I'm afraid it's impossible to say for sure,
but I believe it's probable enough to take that chance.”

“And what if it doesn't work out?” said Artemis, leaning back
in her throne and giving me a look I knew all too well. It was the same look
she'd given Aphrodite every time she went on and on about one of her new
friends
.