Vowed to Hades (Romancing the Seas #4)

27. Persephone

PERSEPHONE

P ersephone’s footsteps echoed softly against the cold stone floors as she walked along the rows of cells, the dim light casting eerie shadows on the walls.

The wails and groans of the prisoners reverberated through the corridors, filling the air with a haunting melody of despair.

A chill crawled up her spine, not from the cold, but from the memories that surfaced as she passed each barred doorway.

She could still remember the day Hades had thrust her into one of these very cells like she was nothing more than an unwanted dog. The memory was sharp and vivid, a stinging reminder of how little power she had once felt.

She had been frightened, lost, and utterly alone. But that had been a different time, a different Persephone. She wasn’t sure if she could call herself stronger now, but she was certainly different .

Her steps slowed as she neared the throne room, the grand doors towering above her like a silent sentinel.

The memory of the trick she had played on Hades to save her friends came rushing back. She had been so desperate, so willing to do anything to protect them. And yet, even in that moment of deceit, she had seen a flicker of something in Hades's eyes—a recognition, perhaps, of the woman she had once been. The woman she was supposed to be.

Back then, she had been playing a role, a part she didn’t fully understand.

But the reason Hades had fallen for her act so easily was because the Persephone he knew was sultry, powerful, confident. Everything she was not.

The thought gnawed at her, a persistent doubt that made her question everything she believed about herself.

Her mind spun with the conflicting information that had been piling up, layer upon layer, each piece making it harder to see the truth.

Hades had laughed at the very idea of her being human, as if the thought was too absurd to entertain. And then there was Adonis, who had assured her that she was never locked up, never treated like a prisoner. He had spoken with such sincerity, such conviction, that it was difficult not to believe him.

But was he lying? Or was Ava somehow involved in a twisted game she couldn’t yet comprehend?

The more people who aligned with Hades's story, the harder it became to cling to the hope that Adonis was a kind, genuine man who had truly loved her. A man who had married her out of affection, not out of some darker purpose. But that hope was fragile, and with every passing moment, it seemed more and more like a lie she had been telling herself.

Persephone’s steps faltered as she reached a room with a peculiar shine to it, a faint glow emanating from within. The door was ajar, and she hesitated for only a moment before pushing it open.

Inside, the room was filled with piles of treasure—ancient weapons, fine gold, and riches that glittered in the dim light. But there was more than just wealth here. Among the valuables were old, tattered books, frayed rugs, and objects that seemed mundane at first glance but held a certain gravitas.

She knew instinctively that this was Hades's collection. The thought filled her with an inexplicable sense of familiarity, as if she had been here before, touched these objects, and understood their significance.

Her gaze fell on a simple stick adorned with a bunch of black feathers attached to the end.

She picked it up, feeling the cool wood beneath her fingers, and inspected it closely.

The feathers were soft, their edges delicate and slightly frayed, as if they had been handled many times before. As she turned the stick in her hand, a vision slammed into her mind with the force of a tidal wave .

She was standing in a room, holding the same stick, waving it playfully in Hades's face.

He was watching her, his eyes gleaming with amusement, his lips curled into a smile.

“Do not tell me I never make you gifts,” she teased, her voice filled with a lightness she barely recognized.

Hades's brows lifted in mock surprise; his expression tinged with humor as he regarded her with a look that made her heart race. “Ah, it is… lovely. What is it, and what does it do?”

Persephone cackled, the sound rich and mischievous. “Put this blindfold on, and I’ll show you what it can do.”

The vision faded as quickly as it had come, leaving Persephone gasping for breath.

Her body was slick with sweat, her heart pounding in her chest.

The intensity of the vision had been overwhelming, almost too much to bear. She felt as if she had been transported to another time, another place, where the boundaries of reality blurred and shifted.

She clutched the stick tightly, her knuckles white with the effort.

The visions were growing more intense, more frequent, and each time she was pulled back to the present, it felt less real. It was as if she had been walking around in a dream all this time, and somehow, the visions were where her true reality lay.

But what did that mean? Was she really the person in those visions, the woman who had laughed and teased Hades with such confidence? Or was she still the same lost soul, searching for answers in a world that no longer made sense?

Persephone shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.

She couldn’t afford to lose herself in these memories, not now, not when so much was at stake. But the questions lingered, heavy and unresolved, pressing down on her like a weight she couldn’t shake.

She looked around the room once more, at the treasures and trinkets that surrounded her.

Each one seemed to hold a piece of the puzzle, a fragment of the life she had once lived. But the picture they formed was still incomplete, the edges frayed and blurred, the truth just out of reach.

With a sigh, she set the stick back down, her fingers lingering on the feathers for a moment longer.

The memory of Hades's smile, his warmth, stayed with her, a haunting reminder of the connection they had once shared. A connection she was beginning to remember, piece by piece, even if she wasn’t ready to accept it fully.

She turned away from the room, her heart heavy with the knowledge that there was still so much she didn’t understand. But as she walked back down the corridor, the echoes of the past trailing behind her like a shadow, she knew one thing for certain: the answers were out there, waiting for her.

When she rounded the corner, she came face to face with two hooded men. When they blocked her path, Persephone looked at them expectantly.

“You are Hades's servants, yes?” she asked, mustering the courage to sound like the Persephone in her visions. If they were memories, then these men were afraid of her.

Slowly, the two hooded figures nodded, which filled Persephone with more confidence.

She folded her arms. “Then let me pass.”

But the men did not move out of her way, instead, one of them retrieved a silver envelope from inside his cloak. He handed it to Persephone.

She glanced at her name scrawled on the front.

She looked at the two figures again, and one of them spoke, his voice was impossibly low, other-worldly. “We are instructed to take you to your room.”

Persephone lifted her brows. Room, or cell, she wondered.

“Very well. Lead the way,” she said, surprised at how firm her voice sounded despite her insides wriggling with nerves.

Taking on the role as the Dark Queen was not so hard after all.

The Devil Men took her to a door with an elaborate frame.

She traced her fingers along the twisting vines that formed the frame.

When the door opened, her heart stopped.

She remembered this room. Not from her visions or distant dreams .

From the moment Hades brought her to the Underworld. After he slaughtered Adonis before her eyes.

She stepped in, and a sense of dread washed over her.

The four-poster bed took up much of the room, with soft white drapes hanging from each corner.

She spent many nights fisting the sheets, wetting the pillows with her endless tears.

She swallowed and nodded to the two men who seemed to be waiting for her approval.

“You may leave now,” she said. This time there was an edge to her voice as she struggled to hide her horror.

When the door shut, Persephone exhaled and sat on the stool by the dressing table.

She turned over the silver envelope in her hands and inspected the wax seal with interest. It was red, with a cursive letter H printed.

Hades had written her a letter?

A silver letter opener sat on the table, calling to her.

She took it, looking at the flowers etched into the handle. Then she stuck it in the letter and ripped it open at the seal.

A gold leaf of paper slid out, and when she unfolded it, her heart skipped a beat.

The Nether King wrote her a letter.

She wasn’t sure why this prompted a rush of tingles through her, especially considering their last interaction. But it did .

She read it slowly, taking in every word.

M y dearest Persephone,

I want to express my deepest regret regarding my behavior toward you today, and indeed… every day since I brought you home.

I am trying to understand that, from your point of view, things are… confusing and unsettling to say the least.

But we have come so far, I can see glimmers of remembering in your eyes. Your touch is not so cold, and it seems as though you are less repulsed by me.

I know I must be patient. But alas, patience is not a virtue I possess—and the situation in the Land of the Living does not help. They need us, Persephone.

When we were in the Land of the Living, I had become swept up in the chaos and drama that comes with life.

It seemed as though time was never on our side and winning this war, impossible.

However, time does not exist here in the Underworld. It can pass swift, slow… or not at all.

You see, I am the Nether King. This is my realm, and time will pass as I command.

Therefore, I would like to offer you an invitation.

I provided you with a gown, handmaidens shall arrive shortly after you read this. They will help you get ready for what will be the most formative night of your existence.

If you accept my invitation to spend one night with me, I will be waiting for you in the banquet hall.

Wear the gown and keep an open mind as I attempt to remind you of the reasons why you are my Dark Queen .

Always yours,

Hades

P ersephone swallowed as she looked up and caught sight of the dress laying over the small chair in the corner of the room.

One night with Hades.

A night that by his command could stretch out as long as he wished.

She wondered just what he had planned, and her insides quivered. But then she thought about her friends, caught up in a war that threatened the very existence of humanity.

There was nothing left for her in the Land of the Living. The only place she thought of as home was reduced to rubble and decay. And even in death, Adonis was hiding secrets from her.

She was not ready to fully believe Hades's story. But the evidence was stacking up, making it impossible to ignore the fact that Adonis was lying to her.

And so far, everything Hades had ever done was to protect her and keep her safe.

Not to mention the vivid visions that now came more often. Those visions seemed more real than her memories of Adonis.

But the spell to return her memories failed to work.

Did that mean she had not been cursed after all?

She couldn’t make sense of any of it.

But one thing was clear, she was certain that under the layers of his hard exterior, Hades cared for her. She trusted that he did not mean her any harm, and with him, she was safe.

She sighed and whispered, “I accept your invitation, Hades.”

As soon as the words left her lips, there was a squeal of hinges.

She jumped and watched three elderly women, dressed in black lace pinafore dresses, walk in.

“We are here to assist you, Your Highness,” they said with a curtsey.

Persephone straightened her spine and sucked in a breath.

“Very well,” she said, trying to ignore the nerves that now formed butterflies in her stomach.