always wanted to see a mortal spirit. Supposedly, they still have their wounds from when they died.”
He wasn’t a spectacle for them to stare at while he tried to save the poor nymph they’d likely broken. Just because they were gods didn’t mean they had any right to be such fools.
Hades found her on a bench in the garden, and he realized immediately why the gods had pestered her. Even though she was in a simple peplos and himation, she was stunning.
Her curls were streaked with dark threads, like freshly rained upon loam. Her skin was a glistening caramel, like the treats the humans so loved. The closer Hades walked, the more he realized her skin wasn’t just bronzed. It was dusted with fine spots, like an egg in a nest.
Freckles, he remembered the humans calling them. They were stains from the sun, and he wanted to touch his fingers to them and count each individual one. Each mark was a kiss from her time under the warm rays he so rarely saw.
Would they taste like glistening drops of sunlight?
Hades shook himself from such thoughts. If he continued down that path, then he was no better than his siblings. And he wasn’t the monster. He’d promised himself he would never become like them.
Clearing his throat, he stayed a few paces behind her so he didn’t frighten the poor thing any more than she likely already was.
And then she turned around.
Gods, how she glowed. Her eyes were like the rays of the sun filtering through emerald green leaves, and he remembered what the scent of a summer wind smelled like. He could feel it stroking against his skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake.
This was no nymph. She was more than that, and he had no idea where she’d come from.
She swiped away a few pearlescent drops of tears and sniffed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in the gardens.”
“I wasn’t.” He took a step forward, then hesitated. “I didn’t intend to come out here at all but I thought... Well, I thought I ought to check on you.”
The woman frowned. Little lines appeared on her forehead and they were the prettiest marks he’d ever seen. She showed her emotions like a mortal. He hadn’t realized until now how frustrating looking at his siblings had become when they hardly even moved at all. Like statues in their ancient apathy.
“Why?” she asked.
He didn’t have an answer for the question. Hermes had sent him, but he would have come without the other god asking if he’d known what had happened.
He shrugged. “I was told my siblings were cruel to you. And that is unkind of them.”
“They were unkind, yes, but I should have known. My mother warned me.” She looked down at her fingers and scrunched the fabric of her peplos. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come.”
He took another step forward, holding himself in check so he didn’t frighten her. He was so glad she had come, because otherwise he wouldn’t have met her. He wouldn’t have known a creature like her existed when his soul had all but given up on sunlight. “Don’t think like that. There are more reasons to come to Olympus than to meet the gods.”
A soft smile smoothed the fear in her features. “It is beautiful here.”
Hades made a face. Olympus had never been welcoming to him, but perhaps he was biased. And suddenly, he wanted her to see more than just a garden in Zeus’s temple.
He only wanted her to see the parts of Olympus he’d help build. The pieces of this revered place that were parts of his soul.
Maybe he just wanted to see someone beautiful find use in him again.
He pointed at the empty space beside her on the bench. “Do you mind?”
She shrugged.
He’d take that as an invitation. Hades might be the better of his siblings, but he wasn’t perfect. Even if she was uncomfortable, he’d prove to her how worthy he was of her attention. That she didn’t need to be afraid of him.
Not like the others. He’d never be like them.
So he sat and pointed out the details he knew of Olympus. “Those flowers don’t grow anywhere else other than in this particular garden.” The flower in particular had grown near her foot. The long, thick stem was supposed to symbolize Zeus’s reign for all eternity. The silver petals were supposed to look like the ichor of his blood.
He thought it was just a rather pleasant flower, not exactly an original design