A Touch of Ruin (Hades & Persephone #2) - Scarlett St. Clair Page 0,41
couldn’t believe it hadn’t been her first thought.
After a moment, she put her head in her hands.
“I don’t understand why he didn’t tell me.”
“The first rule of men, Persephone, is that they’re all idiots.”
She started to protest, but Hecate interrupted her.
“And don’t start thinking that just because Hades is ancient and wise in other matters of life means he’s above idiocy. He’s not. Trust me. I have existed alongside him to see it all.”
“He is an idiot,” she agreed. “But…so am I.”
Hecate’s eyes softened. “You are.”
The two shared a laugh.
“Are you going to turn me into a polecat?” Persephone asked, and though she meant it as a joke, she felt tears prick her eyes.
The goddess smiled. “No, dear, I already have one.”
Persephone wiped at her face fiercely. “Oh, Hecate. What do I do? I hurt Hades. I didn’t think…well, I didn’t think at all. I was so—”
“Hurt,” Hecate said. “Hades hurt you, too. You hurt each other. The answer is simple. You apologize.”
“It doesn’t seem like enough.”
“It is enough. It’s enough because you love each other.”
Persephone took a breath. Apologize. She could do that.
“Okay,” she said, standing. “Where is he?”
Hecate rose from her seat.
“Just wait a little longer. You’ll want him angry for when Apollo arrives. Now, let’s channel some of this pain into a lesson.”
The two made their way to one of Hades’ many orchards. She was still learning the Underworld and its vast landscape, but one of the things she’d discovered is that Hades had a network of vegetation—grapes, olives, figs, dates, and pomegranates. The Goddess of Magic chose a clearing where a particularly large pomegranate tree had grown. Its emerald leaves contrasted darkly with the crimson fruit hanging heavy from its branches.
For a moment, Persephone was enchanted by the clearing.
And then came the bees.
“Where the hell did these come from?” Persephone asked, dodging another winged demon as it charged for her face. These were not nice bees.
“I summoned them,” Hecate said cheerily.
“You—what?”
“Using magic under stressful situations is a valuable skill, Persephone.”
“Don’t you think I am under enough stress?”
“In your mind,” she answered. “Good practitioners of magic must learn to work under both mental and physical stress.”
Not today, she wanted to say.
“Well, I am not a good practitioner of magic.”
“If you keep saying that, it will become the truth.”
“It is the truth. You’re the only one who can’t see it. Even Hades knows. He’s only been letting me think I am powerful enough to use magic against him.”
Hecate’s brows came together. “What do you mean?”
She told her what happened last night with the thorns.
“It was effortless for him.”
“My love. You must remember that Hades is in his realm. Here he is all-powerful.”
That didn’t help, because all the times she’d used her magic with him, she’d been here in the Underworld. She wasn’t sure why it bothered her so much. She guessed because she had used that as a measure of improvement—and just as easily as he’d used his magic to turn hers into ash, he’d taken her fragile confidence with it.
Hecate sighed. “Perhaps I have overstepped. I am sorry for the bees.”
Once Hecate dismissed the bees, they focused on practice.
“Remember what I told you,” the goddess said, positioning her in front of the pomegranate tree. “Magic is malleable.”
Persephone did remember. They were words Hecate had spoken shortly after she started to feel life in the plants, flowers, and trees around her.
Practicing magic with Hecate was nothing like practicing on her own. The goddess was dedicated to the craft and meticulous in her instruction. Persephone was told to ripen the pomegranates on the tree in the middle of the grove. They weighted down branches of the tree, their skin was a greenish-yellow, bruising with a crimson red. It meant that she was going to have to demonstrate control in gathering and channeling her power.
Hecate’s words rose to the surface of her mind as she called up her magic.
Imagine it as clay—mold it into what you desire and then...give it life.
It was easier said than done.
Persephone felt the heat of magic pulse through her veins. It pooled into her palms like water warmed beneath the sun, and as she closed her eyes, she imagined herself manipulated the glamour into a ripe, red pomegranate.
“Perfect,” she heard Hecate say encouragingly.
Persephone took a deep breath and opened her eyes. She couldn’t see the magic she held in her hands, but she could feel it. It was energy, and it charged the air around her, raising the hair on her arms and the back