Vowed to Hades (Romancing the Seas #4)

28. Persephone

PERSEPHONE

P ersephone sat in the dim glow of her chamber; her gaze fixed on the exquisite gown laid out before her.

It shimmered like liquid midnight, the deep blue fabric capturing the flickering light of the candles that lined the room. Silver embroidery traced constellations along the hem and bodice.

And for a moment, she lost herself in the intricacies of its design. The gown was a masterpiece, a work of art that seemed to whisper of nights filled with mystery and wonder.

Her handmaidens began their work, drawing a bath and helping her into the steaming water.

The scent of lavender and coconut filled the air. The murmur of water kissed her ears, and Persephone began to relax. She slipped deeper under the water and sighed as she rested her head on the back of the tub .

The handmaidens washed her hair with tender care, their fingers weaving through her locks as if they were handling the most delicate of treasures. They scrubbed her skin until it glowed, the grime of the day slipping away like a forgotten memory.

When they finally helped her out of the bath, she was renewed and serene. But her serenity was short-lived, she was instructed to lay on the bed.

One of the handmaidens brought over a large boiling cauldron, she dipped a stick into it and when she lifted it, molten wax poured down.

“What is that for?” Persephone asked, with concern.

The handmaidens exchanged looks, as though the question caused them confusion. But to Persephone, it looked like they were about to inflict torture.

“You always ask for a wax before having dinner with the king, Your Highness,” the one holding the stick said as she bobbed in another curtsey.

Persephone held her breath for a moment as she stole courage. “I see. Well, in that case, you may continue.”

One of the ladies positioned herself at Persephone’s head and gently pressed her fingers on pressure points on her scalp. A deep sense of relaxation took hold of her as she worked, rubbing in firm, small circles.

Then her attention moved to something warm on her leg .

Pressure rolled out and then… a sudden burning.

She hissed and jolted upright, glaring at the woman who innocently held up a strip of cloth with dried wax.

“Apologies, Your Highness, I would have offered a tonic, but you usually like to feel the pain,” she said.

Persephone gritted her teeth.

So, not only was she an exhibitionist, but she also enjoyed pain… apparently.

“How much more will you have to do?”

The woman puffed out a breath and looked over Persephone’s bare body as though she was trying to judge how many hours she needed to carry out the task. Not minutes.

Persephone sighed.

“Give me the tonic.”

After drinking a bitter tasting shot of tonic, Persephone rolled back and let out a breath. This time, her body was light, and everything was tingling.

She was grateful for the pain relief.

The women ripped the hairs from every single part of her body, even the most sensitive parts. When they were done, the only hair she had left on her body were her brows and the hair on her head.

Following the intrusive wax, the ladies brought out a large bottle and smothered her body in a cooling lotion. It smelled divine, like a mixture of honeysuckle and red wine .

They pushed back her cuticles and polished her nails. And they cleaned her teeth with a foaming wash that left a minty taste in her mouth.

When it was time to dress, they were careful not to snag her skin with their nails as they fitted a black lace bodice and a small patch of lace covering her most private parts.

Finally, they picked up the silky gown from the chair.

It was slipped over her head; its fabric cool against her skin.

The neckline was V-shaped, giving an eyeful of her cleavage.

They buttoned up the back, and she smoothed out the skirts, enjoying the satin finish, smooth against her palms.

It was a perfect fit, as if it had been crafted specifically for her.

One handmaiden began to weave her hair into an elegant Grecian style, while the other applied subtle touches of makeup, enhancing her natural beauty.

When they were done, the handmaidens stepped back to give her space and looked at her with pride in their eyes.

Persephone caught her reflection in a gilded mirror across the room.

The woman staring back at her was both familiar and foreign, a blend of who she was and who she was becoming .

Some of her hair was coiled up at the crown of her head, while several long ringlets fell to her waist.

The black gown was a stark contrast to her pale, freckled skin.

She looked like she belonged in the Underworld. Or perhaps, ruled over it.

There was strength in her eyes, a flicker of something fierce and unyielding. Dark powder smudged around her eyes, giving a dark and smoky effect. And her lips looked blood red, as though she had been drinking blood.

She barely recognized herself.

A soft knock at the door signaled that it was time.

The handmaidens stepped aside as a Devil Man appeared, his expression neutral but his eyes lingering on her with something akin to approval.

“Your Highness, the king awaits you in the banquet hall. If you will follow me, I shall take you to him.”

Persephone nodded, gliding toward him with the grace of a queen, though inside she felt a whirlwind of uncertainty.

She thanked the ladies for their hard work, then followed the Devil Man through the shadowed corridors.

Torches lined the walls casting long, undulating shadows that danced across the ancient stone. Each step echoed with the weight of memories that seemed just out of reach, memories that teased the edge of her consciousness but refused to fully reveal themselves.

It gave her a strange sense of familiarity, even though she was certain that she had never walked these halls before.

When they reached the banquet hall, the Devil Man pushed open the heavy doors, revealing a grand room bathed in the warm glow of candlelight. A giant fireplace roared to life, the flames licking the air, and the only sound in that room was the crackling of coals.

The long table was set with gleaming silverware, crystal goblets, and plates overflowing with the finest delicacies. At the head of the table stood Hades, his dark eyes fixed on her as she entered.

He was dressed in a suit as black as the night. He had trimmed his stubble to a light shadow across his features, and his messy hair, now fell in neat waves to his shoulders.

His eyes smoldered at her as she approached him.

“Persephone,” he said, his voice a deep, velvety caress that sent a shiver down her spine. “You are… breathtaking.”

A faint smile tugged at her lips.

The weight of expectation settled on Persephone, and her nerves were frayed as she thanked him.

Hades pulled out a chair for her, a gesture so courteous and intimate that it caught her off guard.

As they dined, the conversation flowed like a river—effortless, meandering through stories and banter, punctuated by laughter that felt natural, yet sounded foreign.

Hades regaled her with tales of the Underworld, of the strange creatures that lurked in its darkest corners, and of the adventures they had once shared.

With each word, Persephone felt the pieces of her past slowly falling into place, forming a picture that was still incomplete but becoming clearer with every passing moment.

After the meal, Hades stood and extended his hand to her.

“Shall we take a walk?” he asked, his tone light, though his eyes held a depth of emotion that made her pulse quicken.

Persephone hesitated, then placed her hand in his.

The warmth of his touch startled her, sending a current of something unnamed coursing through her veins.

A pool of sweat formed across her brow. But the air was cool, washing over her as they entered into the vast gardens of the Underworld.

She took a breath of air so rich and clear; it was as if it was the first time she had ever breathed.

The air was cool, fragrant with the scent of earth and something darker, more elusive.

But it was the garden itself that took her breath away.

The leaves on the trees were black as silk, shimmering with a subtle sheen that made them appear almost otherworldly. Flowers of deep purple and maroon bloomed in wild abundance, their petals velvety and rich, exuding a beauty that was at once haunting and exquisite.

She looked at the winding garden maze, under what looked remarkably like the moon, yet it was something ethereal, with shades of blue. Like a dark sun.

“This garden,” Hades began, his voice low as they walked along the shadowed paths. “You created this, Persephone. Do you remember?”

She glanced around, her brow furrowing. The garden was stunning, yet completely alien to her. She shook her head.

Hades gave her a gentle smile, one that was filled with a sorrow she couldn’t quite place. “You were tired of the landscape. Calling its barren lands a waste of potential .”

Persephone’s brows lifted at Hades quoting her. It did sound like something she would say.

She couldn’t imagine a world where there was nothing but rocks and decay, yet that was exactly what she thought the Underworld was.

But the more she ventured around this mystical place, the more she fell in love with the beauty of it.

They continued to wander deeper into the garden, the night wrapping around them like a cloak, thick with possibilities.

As they walked, Persephone became aware of a tingling in her fingertips, an awareness that seemed to rise from the very soil beneath her feet. Her hand brushed against a flower’s petal, and in that instant, a vision consumed her.

She stood in a barren wasteland, the earth cracked and parched beneath her feet.

Hades watched her from a distance, his expression unreadable.

With a wave of her hand, she commanded life to rise from the desolation, and before her eyes, a row of vibrant purple flowers erupted from the ground, swaying gently in the breeze.

“Nothing grows in the Underworld,” Hades remarked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

She turned to him, a triumphant smile playing on her lips.

“It does now,” she declared, her voice strong and sure.

The vision dissolved, leaving Persephone gasping for breath.

Her hand trembled, and she realized she had dropped her glass.

But before it could shatter on the ground, Hades caught it, his movements swift and graceful.

“What is wrong?” His brow creased with concern as he placed the glass aside.

Persephone stared at him, her mind reeling from the intensity of what she had just experienced.

“I made this garden… with magic,” she said, her voice shaking.

Hades's eyes lit up with something she hadn’t seen in them for what felt like an eternity. “You had another vision?”

She nodded, her heart pounding as she crouched down in front of a wilted flower. Hesitantly, she reached out, envisioning the flow of life and light entering the lifeless plant.

Her palm tingled, and with a gentle wave of her hand, the flower began to bloom, its petals unfurling in a vibrant display of color.

Persephone turned back to Hades; her voice thick with emotion. “Not a vision… a memory.”