This is over. Don’t bother to come by this summer, because you and I are done.
“Persephone?” said Aphrodite, and she looked around. “She’s watching?”
I didn’t bother to wait for Hermes’s response. I pulled myself back into the observatory so quickly that for the first time since mastering my powers, I grew dizzy. I sat there for a long moment, my head between my knees, and struggled not to break down.
What else had I expected? He was Zeus’s son as surely as I was Zeus’s daughter. Cheating was in our blood. But no matter how many times I’d done it to Hades, that slap in the face—that complete and utter betrayal—had never hit home for me before.
My face was hot, and tears prickled in my eyes, but I refused to let them go. Instead I forced myself to breathe in and out slowly, counting each breath. Hermes loved me; I was certain of that. But why had he gone to Aphrodite? Was half a year really so long to wait?
Or had she seduced him? Were Ares and Hephaestus and Poseidon not enough for her?
Of course not. This was Aphrodite. She could never have enough, and she took whatever she wanted without a second thought. Mother may have considered me selfish, but I was nothing compared to my sister.
The door to the observatory opened and shut, and I wiped my dry cheeks angrily. I wanted to hurt something. I wanted to wrap my hands around Hermes’s neck and squeeze. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would help me feel a hell of a lot better.
“Persephone?”
And now I might have my chance. I straightened, my eyes narrowing as I focused on Hermes. He looked as if he’d dressed in a hurry, his clothing rumpled and his hair a mess. At least he’d bothered at all. “I told you not to come.”
“Actually, you didn’t,” he said, shuffling his feet. “You said we were over, but—”
“And we are, so you have no business here,” I snapped. His expression crumpled.
“Persephone, come on. I’m sorry. It was just once—”
“And I happened to peek in at the exact wrong moment?”
“You never said I couldn’t see anyone else during the winter.”
“I never said you could, either.”
He exhaled. “What’s really bothering you? Did you have a fight with Hades?”
I stared at him. He really didn’t get it, did he? “What’s bothering me is the fact that out of all the girls and goddesses in the world, you had to sleep with Aphrodite.”
“And what’s wrong with her?”
“She’s Aphrodite. She has Ares, she has Hephaestus, she has every damn person she wants. You’re mine. You’re the only person I have, and she—she steals you like it’s no big deal—”
“Nobody stole me.” He knelt down in front of my chair, careful not to touch me. “I’m still yours. I’ll always be yours, and I’m sorry about being with Aphrodite. You’re right, it wasn’t fair to you, and I should’ve asked you first.”
I took a deep, shaky breath. “It doesn’t matter. We’re over.”
“Persephone—”
“No.” I stood and moved around him, narrowly avoiding kneeing him in the chin. “I was happy because of you, and I can’t be that happy ever again, not when I know what you did with her. You stole that from me—you both stole that from me, and I will never forgive you for it.”
“Persephone, come on, don’t be like this—”
“Don’t be like what? Angry? Upset? Hurt?” I whirled around to face him. “Why did you do it? Out of all the girls you could’ve slept with, why her?”
He hesitated, looking to his left for a moment. “Because—I don’t know, all right? It’s Aphrodite. If she wants you, you can’t say no.”
I balled my hands into fists. “Wrong answer.”
As I stormed toward the door, the sound of his footsteps scrambling behind me echoed through the long room. “I’m sorry, all right? She was there, you weren’t, and it isn’t fair, but it won’t happen again. Ever. I love you.”
“If you really loved me, you would’ve never touched her in the first place.” I flung open the door. “Hades would’ve never done that to me.”
I glanced over my shoulder in time to see the stunned look on his face. “Hades? You’re really going to compare me to Hades now? You don’t even love him. You don’t even want to be with him.”
“If you’re my only other option, then maybe he isn’t so bad after all,” I snapped. “Leave, Hermes. I don’t want you here anymore.”
With as much dignity as I could muster, I walked out of the room and down the spiral staircase that led to the lower floors. My eyes brimmed with tears, but by the time I reached my destination, I’d blinked them away without shedding a single one. Hermes wasn’t worth it. I would’ve given him everything, but if he couldn’t spare me honesty or fidelity—
I was an idiot for expecting him to stick with me. No one ever did. Not even Mother had much love left for me anymore, not after my failed marriage and centuries of being with Hermes. The only constants in my life were the seasons and Hades. No matter what I did to him, no matter how I acted, he was there for me without complaint. Always.
I should have loved him. I should’ve loved him so much that I ached over the thought of having hurt him. I wanted to so badly that part of me did, but that wall was still there, preventing anything real.