“At least,” I murmur out loud. “There is proof she was here. The Underworld is cleansed of ash.”
Cerberus rises lazily from his spot on the rug by the fire and pads to me, then hops up onto the bed. It creaks as he comes to me. He nudges sleepily at me with three of his noses, circles on the blankets, and goes back to sleep.
He’s certain she will return.
Or he is certain that I will be fine either way.
I’m envious of his certainty.
With time drifting by too slowly, I go out into the hall, motioning to the guards to tell them I do not need an escort. My feet take me to my andron.
I wave at the hearth, and a low fire burns up from the logs. This late in the night, I do not need much light. I do not even need the mirror. I do not need?—
I do need her. Curse all the realms, I need her. I’ve not negotiated with Zeus about scrying, and most of my life has proved to me that no one is waiting for me to need their presence.
No one. Not even Persephone.
And still, I go across to the mirror.
Its surface is dark and opaque. For a minute, I stand a short distance away. The closeness of it is almost enough. I can endure this separation if I am in sight of the mirror. It’s not a connection with Persephone, but it makes such a connection possible.
The possibility is all I need. Would I beg Zeus to allow her access to his andron? Could I bribe or blackmail a servant to cast a spell upon the still waters of Persephone’s garden so I may steal glimpses of her in Olympus like I did before?
With Demeter’s rage and Zeus’s knowledge of my betrayal, I know not what my next steps should be. I’ve already broken many laws of the gods and gotten away with it. To risk anything is to risk losing Persephone.
But I cannot leave it alone. I cannot stand here, staring at a black mirror, then go back to my rooms. So perhaps the possibility is not all I need. My heart beats higher into my throat, practically suffocating me. What would it hurt? I will not let the ache of Persephone’s absence send me into another rage. I will not.
I’m only going to see.
With one hand reaching out to the mirror, I take two decisive steps toward it. After a moment, the black begins to clear, fading toward the edges until the glass reflects my andron and my face.
That is what I expected to see. The Underworld and me in it. There was no reason to hope for anything else.
I’m about to step back when the reflection shivers. My blood heats and thrums with anticipation. I can barely breathe as firelight appears first on the edge of the mirror. Firelight on white walls.
And then a chair. And then Persephone’s face, close to the mirror, leaning in with a wrap around her shoulders.
I cannot help the pull to my lips that brings an asymmetric smile.
“You are here, my queen.” My voice is low and holds a tone of reverence.
Persephone whispers, “I did not think I could be so lucky as to wish my pull to you would bring you here.”
I lean closer, gripping the frame, wishing it were larger. Wishing I could simply walk through it. “Do you not sleep?”
“Do you not sleep?” she questions back coyly, with a beautiful blush moving to her cheeks.
“I do not,” I answer. “Not when you are away.”
“You cannot stay awake until I return, my king.”
“I can do whatever I please in my realms,” I answer her, the hollowness of her absence once again growing in my chest.
Persephone offers me a soft laugh at my response, but then her expression turns serious. “Not anything you please.”
My throat goes tight at the memory of what happened before. “Yes. Anything.” That is what it means to rule the Underworld. My authority here is absolute. “But I will not do anything, my queen. The souls here will be well while you are gone.”
She arches an eyebrow at me. “Will they?”
