❛THEY WOULD TELL YOU OF A KING WHO STOLE ME HELPLESS FROM MY SUNSHINE GARDEN.❜
They won't tell you about the woman who came to him sublime, lily eyes and lily lips. A king does not ask permission from his prize, but she, oh she, she knelt, kissing m...
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HECATE'S TEMPLES, THE UNDERWORLD.
HADES
THERE WAS SOMETHING UNEASY IN THE RESTLESS WINDS BLOWING ABOUT.
Restless, restless like an impatient lover, greedy and wanton in their needs. Restless, like a nightmare keeping you awake, tossing and turning for hours and hours and keeping the sleep at bay. There was something wicked around, something that very much wanted to keep that well earned sleep away.
I only hoped Hecate would manage it on her own. Perhaps I'd go check on her soon.
"Is Persephone around?" I found Rosamund somewhere near the bramble of rose bushes behind the gates, shears in one hand and basket in the other. She looked up fearfully, eyes wider than the sky, glassy even. Strange - had she been crying?
"She - she isn't here, my Lord," the girl stuttered out, her words broken and coming in bits and pieces.
"Hmm. Are you alright?"
Rosamund dropped the basket and took off, her robes flying behind her as she ran.
Cerberus looked at me questioningly, face wide with wonder. I shrugged at the beast, who pawed the basket, coming up to me with a bunch of tender roses in his jaw. I snorted, picking the basket up and gently pulling the flower stems from him. The bloodhound hissed, eyes darkening.
"Easy, boy. Give them back here."
He huffed, prancing a few steps away from me in annoyance as I tucked the roses back into the basket, the thorns on the stem pricking my finger. I watched a single drop of blood well up on the skin, a tiny pinprick against the ridges of my finger.
Cerberus began to howl.
"Okay, okay! Give me a minute to put these back, we'll go find her."
He walked around in circles, impatiently barking as I shot him a glance, ordering him to stay there. Cerberus angrily snorted, but stayed put there before he scared the other acolytes. I opened the gates, climbing up the steps to find myself in one of the open workspaces where Hecate often dried her herbs in the sun.
"Have you seen my wife around?" I asked one of the apprentices. She looked up from where she'd been lighting a candle near a statue of ivory marble.
"No, my Lord."
"Is she in the Sanctuary?"
"I believe she's sleeping. Her ladies were here a short while ago. The Queen wanted some lavender candles and a few books, I think."
Okay.
"Oh, alright. Thank you. Looks like Rosamund forgot these," I handed her the basket as it dangled from my arm. She grasped it, examining the scarlet flecked petals of the flowers inside, eternal and dying in their beauty at the same time.
