Adonis stared at our intertwined fingers. At least he wasn’t trying to make me let go, but he didn’t say anything, either. I squeezed his hand.
“Adonis and I are friends, nothing more.” The urge to rip her hair out twisted inside me, and it took every ounce of my self-control to stay seated. “Though he will be coming to stay with me on the spring equinox.”
“Is that so?” Aphrodite raised an eyebrow. “And who decided that?”
“Adonis did.”
She huffed. “You have no right to come here and steal him like—”
“Like what? Like you stole Hermes?”
She let out a bitter, empty laugh. “Is that why you’re doing this? Because of Hermes? That was eons ago.”
“I’m doing this because Adonis is my friend, and I love him,” I said with as much dignity as I could muster. “It’s his life, and you don’t get a say in it.”
“Adonis, tell her,” demanded Aphrodite, not taking her eyes off me. I glared back. “Adonis.”
To my immense satisfaction, Adonis said nothing. I smirked, even though it was petty, and Aphrodite let out a frustrated screech that startled the seagulls.
“Daddy!” she shrieked, and even though the sky was blue and clear, thunder rumbled through the air. Adonis’s eyes widened, and he started to stand, but I gently tugged on his hand.
“It’s fine,” I said quietly. “He won’t hurt you.” I hoped.
Lightning sizzled on the beach, and in the blink of an eye, Zeus arrived. No chance in hell he would’ve come that quickly if I’d been the one to call. Standing an even distance away from us, he frowned and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Dare I even ask?”
Aphrodite was in tears now, and of course she looked beautiful when she cried. I hated her. “Per-Persephone is trying to steal Adonis from me.”
My mouth dropped open. “Excuse me? He wants to stay with me, and he has every right to choose his own life.”
“He already chose me long before you showed up, you cow.”
“Cow? You vain little—”
“Enough, girls.” Zeus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Aphrodite, start at the beginning.”
She sniffed and straightened her shoulders, looking down her nose at me. “Adonis and I’ve been together for ages. We love each other, and we’re perfect together, naturally.”
“If you’re so perfect together, then why do you keep him trapped on this island?” I said.
“I’m not trapping him. I’m protecting him.”
“From what? Other girls who might actually be able to devote themselves to him completely?” I snapped.
“Persephone,” said Zeus in a warning tone, and I huffed. This was completely unfair. Not just for me, but for Adonis, too. It was obvious he wasn’t going to speak up in his own defense, though. Not that I blamed him, of course—my father could be intimidating at the best of times, and I was a goddess. I couldn’t imagine what being in his presence was like for a mortal.
“I keep him here to protect him from Ares,” said Aphrodite. “He’s been acting a little jealous lately, and there’s no point in causing a skirmish.”
As if she hadn’t caused a million of those in her existence. I sandwiched Adonis’s hand in both of mine. Screw Zeus’s commands. I wasn’t going to stay quiet, not about this. “So not only are you keeping him here like some kind of pet, but you’re endangering his life, too. What sort of love is that?”
Aphrodite’s face turned red. “How dare you—”
“Silence, both of you,” said Zeus in a voice that rolled like thunder, and even Aphrodite obeyed. “Adonis—that is your name, yes?”
He swallowed and nodded, averting his eyes. His grip would’ve likely broken my bones if I hadn’t been immortal.
“What is it you choose to do, Adonis?”
I exhaled. A choice. At least Adonis would have that much. I patted his hand. “It’s all right,” I whispered, and across from me, Aphrodite stomped her foot in protest. Too bad.
“I…” He stopped and shook his head, staring at the sand. Why, because he thought Aphrodite would curse him if he didn’t choose her?
Probably. And I wouldn’t put it past her, either. “It’s your life,” I whispered. “Remember that.”
But he still said nothing. At last Zeus ran out of patience. “Very well, then I will decide. In the absence of the young man’s opinion, I will split his time equally between both of you. He will spend one third of the year with Aphrodite, one third of the year with Persephone and for the final third, he will do what he pleases. Is everyone happy?”
No, not in the least, and judging by the pinched look on Aphrodite’s face, she wasn’t, either. But we both nodded, and Adonis didn’t protest. He barely even blinked.
“So be it. Now, if my beloved daughters do not mind, I have matters much more important than this to attend to.” Without another word, he disappeared, and instantly Adonis relaxed.
I turned to Aphrodite. I could’ve said a million things to her, but instead I blurted, “Why wasn’t Zeus mad that you told Adonis who you are?”
Aphrodite shrugged, clearly put out over having to share him. “Because I’ve been lobbying Daddy to let Adonis join us, of course. But now you had to go and ruin it, didn’t you?”
I snorted. “And how did I ruin it? You’re the one who wouldn’t let him make up his own damn mind.”
“Persephone.” Adonis’s voice was hoarse, but at least his grip on my hand wasn’t quite so tight anymore. “I apologize to you both for not speaking up. It is just…”
“No need. We both know Daddy’s a little intimidating sometimes,” said Aphrodite cheerfully, though there was a glint in her eyes as she looked at me. “But now that Daddy’s made a decision, we have to figure out who gets what third.”
I scowled. No doubt she’d try to make me take the winter months. “I want him starting on the spring equinox. The entire spring and first month of summer.”
She eyed me, and I steeled myself for the fight I knew was coming. Instead of objecting, however, she nodded. “Yes, I think that’s an excellent idea. I’ll take the next four months, and then Adonis can do whatever he pleases with the final four.”
I blinked. That was it? Not even a hint of protest? “What’s your game, Aphrodite?”
“Game?” she said, her eyes widening innocently. A sure sign she was lying through her teeth. “Is it so terrible to give my sister a chance at happiness?”
There wasn’t much I could say to that, not without looking like a monster in front of Adonis. I would figure it out eventually though, and when I did, I would rip her apart. “Fine. At the start of the spring equinox, you and I will go to my cottage,” I said to Adonis. “And Aphrodite will stay very, very far away.”
She sniffed. “Fine, as long as you promise to never come back here, either. This is my island, not yours.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
We glared at each other. This war wasn’t over, but for now, we had no choice but to call a ceasefire. I would discover her game soon enough, and until then, I wasn’t about to let her or Zeus or anyone ruin my time with Adonis.
* * *
On the morning of the spring equinox, Hades dropped me off in the meadow as he’d done thousands of times before. I leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek goodbye, nothing more than what it was, but he stiffened.
I frowned and looked behind me. Standing in the clearing, as promised, was Adonis. And Hermes. And Mother.
Terrific.
“And that, I take it, is Adonis?” said Hades quietly, and I blanched.
“Yes.” Who had told him? Aphrodite or Zeus? Did it even matter? “We’re just friends.”
“For now,” he said softly, and I gave him that peck on the cheek.
“I’ll see you on the autumnal equinox. Take care of yourself.”
He remained stoic as I walked across the meadow, and a knot of guilt formed in the pit of my stomach. I should’ve told
him, but these seasons were mine, and telling him before anything had happened wouldn’t have made it any easier. It wouldn’t have made him hurt any less.
I ignored Hermes completely. He frowned as I passed, but to my relief, he didn’t say anything. The situation was awkward enough as it was without his getting involved. Instead I headed toward Adonis first, taking his hand and giving him a smile. He returned it, albeit nervously, and he glanced over my shoulder. At Hades, no doubt. “It’s fine,” I said, and I led him toward Mother. “I want you to meet my mother, Demeter. Mother, this is—”
“I know who he is,” said Mother quietly. Instead of welcoming him like I expected, as Adonis bowed in greeting, her lips curled back with contempt. “I thought you were past this, Persephone.”
“Past what?” I said. “Past making friends? Past wanting to be happy?”
“Past causing your husband pain in the most deplorable way possible,” said Mother. Beside me, Adonis straightened, and I touched his elbow. No need for him to waste effort if she was going to be cruel about it.
“You’re the reason that me finding a bit of happiness is so deplorable in the first place,” I said. “If you can’t support me, then fine, I don’t need your support. And I don’t need you here, either.”
I didn’t know what I expected—an angry retort, a sneer, Mother to break down and beg my forgiveness. Either way, I didn’t expect her to fold her hands, give Adonis a slight nod and disappear completely.
All the air left my lungs, and I stared at the empty space where she’d stood moments before. She’d gotten mad at me before, of course, and her disappointment over the years had become impossible to bear. But never had she turned her back on me. Not like this.
“I am sorry,” whispered Adonis, his lips brushing against my temple. The regret in his voice only made the ache inside me grow.
“Don’t be. Please.” He shouldn’t have had to suffer for my mistakes. “Let’s just go.”
“All right,” murmured Adonis, leading me down the path I’d traveled thousands of times before. I trailed after him, heartbroken and empty, and not even the warm weight of his hand in mine brought me comfort.
I thought I’d known what loneliness felt like, but it wasn’t until I walked that trail without Mother that I finally understood. Even in my darkest hour, Mother had been there for me. She’d loved and supported me no matter how often or hard we fought. And now—
Now the one person I’d always needed, the one person I’d thought would always be there for me, was gone.
* * *
That summer was simultaneously the best and worst of my life.
The hole Mother had left inside me only grew as it became clear she had no intention of returning. But at the same time, those four months with Adonis filled me in a way nothing ever had before. Every moment was an adventure—I’d explored the forest around the cottage countless times, but somehow every day he managed to find something new, something small but beautiful that I’d overlooked. A wild garden full of exotic flowers that tangled together in chaos. A tree so ancient and gnarled that I suspected it outdated Zeus. He reintroduced me to things I’d long since lost—the warmth of the sun on my skin, the shiver down my spine as I stepped into a cool river. He gave me back pieces of my life I’d never realized I missed.
No one could deny Adonis was gorgeous, but the more I got to know him, the more I realized that his appearance was little more than a taste of his inner beauty. He was kind, generous, honest and, despite the fact that Aphrodite had gotten to him, he was innocent in a way I hadn’t been since my marriage eons ago. He had nothing but love inside him, and he radiated it every waking hour. I drank it in, letting it fill me until all of the negativity washed away, and by the time four months was up, I’d never been more content with my lot in life. All of it, every last terrible moment, was worth it now that I knew it had led me to Adonis.
In the middle of summer, Aphrodite came to claim him. To her credit, she was mostly polite about it, only giving me a small smirk when Adonis turned his back. But the instant they left, that hole in my heart opened up, hemorrhaging all of the happiness I’d collected during our four months together.
I cried harder than I ever had before. Now that Adonis was no longer there to act as a buffer, for days I did nothing but curl up in bed and stare at the wall as reality set in.
Mother hated me. I’d cheated on Hades again. Hermes was barely talking to me, and the one light in my life was currently with a blonde whore who couldn’t possibly love him the way I did. He was just another toy to her, and the thought of him going through that, having no say in his time with Aphrodite the way I’d had no say in my time with Hades—
It wasn’t fair, but there was nothing I could do about it, either. Zeus had made up his mind, and if Adonis wasn’t willing to speak up on his own behalf, then so be it.
Though I wasn’t proud of it, I spied on them. He didn’t kiss her the way he kissed me; he didn’t watch her the way he watched me. And every time Aphrodite laughed, I swore I saw him flinch.
That should’ve given me some amount of satisfaction, but it only made me more miserable. Adonis should’ve had what I didn’t—freedom. And instead, in my quest to find happiness, I’d stolen that from him. Did that make me as bad as Hades? As bad as Mother and Zeus?
Eventually summer turned into autumn, and it was time for me to return to the Underworld. Hades greeted me in the meadow as always, but rather than a smile and a kiss on the cheek, he simply nodded coldly and took my hand without a word. Whatever he’d gone through in those six months, whatever thoughts and questions had haunted him, had also ruined every step of progress we’d made in the thousands of years since Hermes and I had broken up. And more than ever, self-loathing snaked through me, doing nothing but compounding my despair. I didn’t deserve Hades’s friendship. I didn’t deserve Adonis, not after doing this to him. I didn’t deserve any of it.
Those six months in the Underworld were blank. I went through the motions of existing, but some integral part of who I was had given up entirely. Hades stopped spending the evening with me. He no longer brought me breakfast. He could barely stand to look at me even when we had to, even when a mortal’s eternity depended on our communication. And rather than take steps to fix it, all I could do was drown in the darkness that was my life. Not even the promise of four months with Adonis in the spring made it better.
After several weeks of spying on Adonis and Aphrodite, I stopped, unable to stomach seeing him so upset any longer. But eventually her time with him passed as well, and shortly before the spring equinox, I couldn’t resist checking in on Adonis once more.
He stood in a stream I didn’t recognize, using a net to capture fish. I watched him, invisible to his eyes, and just seeing him like this—free and happy—was enough to make me smile. Four months wasn’t forever, and one day Aphrodite would grow bored of him. I never would though, and eventually, when mortality claimed him, I would have him entirely to myself. Aphrodite wouldn’t be able to touch him in the Underworld.
Behind me, someone giggled, and a cold wave of dread crashed through me, washing away what little warmth had blossomed. Even though it was his four months of freedom, even though everything I’d witnessed made it clear he didn’t love her, Aphrodite skipped out of the trees, a flower tucked behind her ear.
“Adonis! There you are.” She stepped into the stream with him and set a hand on his bare back. “Any luck?”
He shook his head. “A few close calls.”
“Well, I’ll just ask the nymphs to make us dinner then,” she murmured. “I’m starving.”
Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed him on the mouth, her hand dancing downward toward his waist. She wasn’t hungry for food, that was for damn sure.
I was going to kill her.
This was supposed to be Adonis’s time alone, not an extra third of a year for her. And why was he going along with this? Why hadn’t he refused her and walked away?
The same rea
son he hadn’t spoken up when Zeus had asked him, more than likely. Mortals with any sense of self-preservation didn’t question a god. Even one as feeble as Aphrodite.
I didn’t hesitate. I pulled my body through the space between us as I’d done almost exactly a year ago, and this time Aphrodite didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see me.
“I was wondering when you’d stick your nose where it doesn’t belong,” she chirped, sliding her arm around Adonis’s torso. He paled at the sight of me, and though he tried to step back from Aphrodite, she held on. Naturally. Couldn’t risk letting her trophy think for himself, else her precious ego might be bruised.
“You don’t have to spend these months with her,” I said to Adonis, keeping my voice as steady as I could. “You know that, don’t you?”
He nodded and averted his eyes, his fishing net all but forgotten. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I said, glaring at Aphrodite. “I’m sure this wasn’t your idea. Why are you here with her?”
“I couldn’t just turn him away in the middle of winter, now, could I?” said Aphrodite, her eyes wide.
“He spends those four months alone. That was our deal,” I said.
She tilted her head and gave me the perfect imitation of a smile. “Oh? I recall Daddy saying he could spend this third doing whatever he wanted. And rather than starving to death, he chose to remain with me.”
That conniving bitch. I raised my hand to slap her, but what was the point when she couldn’t feel pain? “So that’s why you let me have the first four months with him—so you could trick him into spending his free four with you.”
She laughed. “Of course. Honestly, it’s not like he could go to you anyway, so why shouldn’t he spend them with me? He loves me.”
“Not the way he loves me,” I snarled.
“Is that so? Adonis, tell Persephone how much you love me.”
He grimaced, not meeting either of our stares. At last he slipped from Aphrodite’s grip, and taking his net, he splashed toward shore without a word.
Fine. If he wouldn’t defend himself, then I would.