Cerberus was—and always would be—her God.
Cyane sighed. Not even one of his hounds appeared to steal her breath and impose upon her and Persephone.
Persephone replanted the flower and leaned over Cyane. “What’s wrong? Have I done something?”
Cyane’s face fell. “No! You could do nothing but fill my heart with happiness.”
Persephone smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. Cyane sat up as her friend curled her legs under her and toyed with the grass at her knees. Cyane didn’t want Persephone to be sad, not on her account.
“It’s Hades, is it not?” Persephone whispered before Cyane could reassure her.
Silence fell between them.
Cyane took her Persephone’s hand. “He wishes only to make you happy. I understand that now, after everything. I understand his motivations now and can’t fault him.” She inhaled because it was true. Even if the dark god frightened her still. “If I had his power… I may have done as much, if not more, to make you happy.”
“He loves me,” Persephone whispered.
Cyane squeezed her hand. “He does. Do you love him?”
“It’s complicated. How can I love someone whose purpose is to kill and keep all that I create?”
Cyane licked her lips and reached for Persephone’s other hand, holding them up between them. “When he took you,” she said, the words paining her to say, “did he hurt you?”
“I thought he did, at the time.” Persephone’s eyes met Cyane’s. “I thought when he stole me from my mother and from all I’d known that I’d learned what hurt was. But I was naive and had no idea what I had with him until my mother found me, and Zeus ordered me above again to end Demeter’s terrible winter. I learned what real torment was then. I returned to find you gone and discover how dearly I missed Hades.” A tear appeared in Persephone’s eye.
Cyane frowned, feeling tears rise in her own eyes. “Will you tell me what happened?”
“You don’t know?” Persephone stole her hand away and wiped her cheeks.
“I don’t. I suppose…turning into a spring immortalized me...but left me deaf to all but the mortals who visited my waters.” Those distant memories were hard for Cyane. They were timeless in a way that even the darkness of Tartarus couldn’t compare.
“Zeus, realizing my misery, came to me one night that first spring. He disguised himself as Hades and ruined me for all time for my Lord of the Dead.”
Cyane swallowed thickly. She had no idea what to say to Persephone. Instead, she reached forward and wrapped her dear friend in a hug and held on, held her as if the very same hole that separated them the first time would return at any moment to pull them apart again.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” she whispered.
Persephone pressed her face into Cyane’s hair and cried. “How can I be with Hades when my own father has destroyed me so?”
Sudden, unabashed anger filled Cyane. “Destroy? Zeus could never destroy something so pure.”
Sobs filled Cyane’s ears as she held Persephone to her, wishing she could take all the goddess’s pain away.
She looked up to see Cerberus standing at the edge of the garden, watching them. His helmet was off, and Cyane’s breath hitched. Beside him, farther behind, hidden in the deeper shadows of the castle’s walls, leaned Hades.
Cyane’s gaze snapped back to Cerberus. Her lips pursed and her body heated, overcome by the predatory gleam in his eyes. It was aimed at her, smoldering and hot, flaming her from the inside out. There was a splash of blood on his face, smudged across his mouth, and it reminded her of the animal he truly was.
She should be afraid, but all she wanted to do was crawl to him, press her brow to his boots, and pray she still was and always would be his. His eyes sparkled, diabolically demonic in the gloom, and to her strange relief, the want was clear in his gaze. But with a godly sniffle, Cyane was reminded that Persephone was the one in her arms.
Stiffness surged through her spine. She buried her fingers into Persephone’s fallen hair, gripping her hard. Her own tears dried up as she held her friend, staring at the men who stared back at her. Hades’s eyes were filled with warning until they moved to Persephone where they softened with longing and hunger. A hunger Cyane clearly recognized, having seen the same in Cerberus’s gaze many times before.
Hades’s words came back to her.
‘I do not easily forget nor do I easily forgive, Cyane. I gave you a new life for one purpose, and one purpose only—to ensure I have an heir.’
She cupped Persephone’s cheeks when her friend’s sobs ebbed. She understood Hades’s motivations now, but she still didn’t like him, and hate for the God of the Dead could easily return. She hated that the words she was going to say to Persephone were the same words Hades expected Cyane would say. It made her feel villainous, even if they were what Cyane truly believed.
Cyane wiped Persephone’s tears away with the pads of her thumbs. “Hades does not feel that way about you,” she said gently, keeping her eyes level with Persephone’s. “He does not think you’re tarnished nor ruined. I see the way he looks at you, like—” She was about the say the way Cerberus looked at her, but caught herself. “Like he’ll go to the ends of the universe and back to prove his love,” Cyane choked. “He’d commit any evil, any terrible act, if the outcome put a smile on your face.”
