A Touch of Malice (Hades & Persephone #3)(110)

“Hades,” she breathed.

His eyes burned into hers, and he leaned forward and kissed her. Persephone’s arms wound around his neck, and she drew him closer, covering him in soap.

“I want you,” she breathed as his lips left hers.

“Marry me,” he said.

She laughed. “I already said yes.”

“You have, so marry me. Tonight.”

Her brows knitted together as she studied him, gauging his seriousness.

“I do not trust Zeus or Poseidon or Hera, but I trust us,” he said. “Marry me tonight and they cannot take it away.”

There was something else at work inside her—an excitement that rose at the thought of finally being Hades’ wife. At not having to plan anymore, to worry about flowers or venues or approval.

“Yes,” she said and as Hades’ smile broke across his face, she felt like she was falling in love with him all over again. He kissed her and for a long moment, she wondered if they would leave the baths, but Hades eventually pulled away.

“I will have you tonight as my wife,” he said. “Come, I will summon Hecate.”

She rinsed off and changed into a robe Hades held for her. The Goddess of Witchcraft was already waiting as they left the baths.

“Oh, my dear!” she said, wrapping her arms around Persephone. “Can you believe it? You will be married tonight! Let’s get you ready,” she said, looping Persephone’s arm through her own. She glared at Hades. “And if I see—or sense—you anywhere near the Queen’s Suite, I will banish you to Arachne’s Pit.”

“I will not peek,” Hades said, grinning at Persephone, his eyes alight and then his voice dipped.

“I’ll see you soon.”

They parted then, and Persephone found herself in the familiar space of the Queen’s Suite—the space Hades had made before he knew he would ever have a lover, before he knew of her existence.

This room was his hope.

Hope, she thought. The most dangerous weapon.

She wasn’t sure what brought on that thought, but it sent a tremor up her spine that even Hecate noticed.

“Nervous, dear?”

“No,” she said. “I’m more ready than ever.”

Hecate grinned. “Sit, the lampades are ready.”

She gestured to the white vanity where the fairy-like creatures hovered. They were tiny silver-skinned nymphs with almost invisible wings. White flowers burst against their dark hair. As she sat, they went to work, their magic tingled against her skin and molded her hair. They were quick and efficient, and when they fluttered to hover behind her head, she admired their work—simple makeup that accentuated the curve of her eyes, the bow of her lips, the height of her cheekbones, and the soft, pale waves of her hair. Upon her head, at the base of her horns, was a crown of baby’s breath.

“Beautiful,” she said, and then her eyes shifted to Hecate who hovered in the reflection of the mirror. She held a white gown draped over her arms.

Persephone turned fully.

“Hecate, when did you—”

“Alma and I worked on it together,” she said. “Let’s see how it fits.”

Hecate helped Persephone into the gown, guiding it over her head. The material was silk and felt cool and soft against her skin. As she turned to face the mirror, she gasped quietly. The dress was beautiful and simple, having a pretty silhouette that seemed to be made specifically for the curve of her breasts and the flair of her hips. The neckline was an elegantly cut v, the straps thin, and a short train trailed behind her.

“A final touch,” Hecate said, as she brought forth a shimmering veil embroidered with green vines and flowers in colors of red, pink, and white.

The final look was dreamy—it was everything and more than Persephone had ever imagined. She was a goddess, a queen, but most importantly, she was Persephone.

“Oh Hecate, it is beautiful,” she said and as she stared in the mirror, she found it hard to completely grasp that this was her wedding day.

She faced the goddess who was holding a bouquet of white narcissus, roses, and leafy greenery.

“Yuri had the children pick the narcissus,” she said.

Persephone smiled, and felt tears prick her eyes as she took the flowers.

“No tears, my love,” Hecate said. “These are happy times.”

“But I am happy.”

Hecate smiled and took her face between her hands. “I knew the moment Hades spoke of you that I would love you. I never doubted for a moment that this day would come.”

Persephone lips quivered but she did her best not to cry. Instead, she took a breath.

“Thank you, Hecate. For everything.”

“It’s time,” she said. “Come.”

“Hecate,” Persephone said, hesitating. There was something she wanted—needed—but she was afraid to say it.

“Yes, dear?”

“I’d… like to have Lexa present. Do you think Thanatos would let her leave Elysium?”

“Dear, you are Queen of the Underworld. You decide.”

“Then we have a stop to make.”



***

Persephone waited behind a line of trees with Lexa who wore a dress that looked like a version of her veil, only the fabric was black. She had yet to peek around the branches to see the grove in which she would actually wed Hades, but Lexa did.