I do that now. It is not much more effective at passing the time, but it is something.
I will see her soon. The promise of reunion is far more motivating than any other offer.
I need to know she is well.
Persephone is the only person, god or mortal, who is fit to rule beside me.
She is the only soul who is fit to hold my hand.
My queen. My love. She is my heart and soul. If she is not returned?—
Abruptly, I stop at the far end of the andron. Cerberus pads up behind me, his nails clicking on the obsidian floor, and nudges my leg. I lower my hand to pat his middle head, then the one on the left, then the one on the right.
Cerberus gives a soft, questioning bark, then bounds away, leaving the andron for elsewhere. An open field is his most likely destination. He will spend an hour or two chasing after the creatures of the forest and guarding the gates.
And I will see Persephone. The thought brings a warmth to the chill in my bones.
When Cerberus’s barks have become too distant to hear, I take measured steps back to the mirror and gesture for the fire in the largest hearth to burn a little brighter. I need Persephone to be able to see my face. I will not leave it dim, as I do when I speak with Zeus.
I approach the mirror with a pounding heart. What is this feeling? It is a strange giddiness. Almost violent, but—not. Powerful. That’s what it is. I have a powerful urge to see her.
To kiss her.
To fuck her. To claim her once again and ensure she is mine.
Although I cannot do those things through the mirror, my body responds as if it is possible. I groan deep in my throat at the very thought of having her returned to me.
The glass remains black. I clench my fists, release them, and take one more step forward.
The black disappears in a silent vortex. For a few moments, it is clear, like a mortal mirror. I grit my teeth. If it stays clear, and Zeus denies me this contact—if he denies Persephone this moment—my rage will be uncontained.
Just when I think that madness will take over, the glass ripples, and the white walls of Olympus appear. Thump, thump, thump. My blood pounds in my ears.
I involuntarily suck in a breath and move an inch closer. I will not touch the mirror—I will not—but my hand rises as if I might.
More of the walls appear. White, with blue accents. The arched frame of a trellis. A gauzy curtain blowing in the breeze. And?—
Persephone.
She sits in front of the mirror, her face illuminated by firelight just as mine is, dressed in delicate white with gorgeous braids. The sun is going down outside Olympus. A pale blue dusk is filling the window behind her. The glowing stars will be out soon. A sight I only see in the scry.
Her eyes go wide and light with pleasure at the sight of me, looking every bit my beautiful queen and companion. With my throat tight, I long for her. To touch her and know she is well. My heart misses a beat as my hand presses against the scry.
It’s not been long at all, and yet I drink the sight of her in, hungry for the smallest changes in her.
She stares back at me, her lips curving in a sensual smile. “Hello, my king.”
“My queen,” I answer, my voice calmer than I thought it would be. My tone deep and even. “You’re scrying.”
“I am,” she agrees, reaching up to touch the end of her braid, and all at once, she looks young and unsure. It is only a flicker, however. It does not last. Persephone draws herself up and becomes my queen again. “And you…are there, wanting me still?”
I do not hesitate. “Always.” Her shoulders fall with what seems like relief. Did she think I would lose my love for her so quickly? So easily? Even centuries of tortures in the darkest and deepest pits of hell could not tear my desire for her away from me.
The weight of her words travels through the mirror and into my heart. Not even the space between Olympus and the Underworld can stop me from feeling it.
You…are there. Inside those three words are all the things Persephone hesitates to say. Where I cannot touch you. Where I cannot speak freely with you. Where we are apart.
With a deep breath, I attempt to quell the burn of raving in my chest. The sight of Persephone’s face in that flickering light has woken every part of my body. My fingers ache to touch her. To give her pleasure. To make her come. I want my tongue on her. I want to be inside her. I want to lift her over me and hold her hips while she rides me.
