And now that I did, now that my eyes were open and I finally understood, I couldn’t be with him. I’d messed it all up. I’d hurt him too badly for us to ever move beyond it. And that wall of hatred and resentment—it would never disappear. Whatever was causing it, whatever had made me feel that way to begin with, we were long past the point of fixing it. That wall was as much a part of me as Hades’s love for me was a part of him. There was no getting around it no matter how hard I tried. If sheer willpower alone could’ve made it crumble, I would’ve managed that a long time ago.

Eventually I fell asleep, and during the night, Hades never left my side. When I awoke, his arms were still wrapped around me, and his eyes were open. He’d spent the entire night holding me, knowing we could never be together the way he wanted, knowing I would almost certainly go out and hurt him again as soon as the pain from Hermes’s betrayal healed.

No. I wouldn’t. Not this time. Hades had already given up too much for me, and no matter how miserable I was, even if it meant an eternity alone, I would never let that wall—I would never let myself—hurt him again.

* * *

Centuries passed, and then eons. Every spring equinox, Hermes was there waiting for me when Hades dropped me off, and I walked past him without a word every single time. Eventually we began to exchange glances, and then smiles; after the first thousand years, he finally came to visit me one summer, and we spent the day tending the garden with my mother. Although we began to talk again, it was never as anything more than uneasy friends.

Without Hermes’s companionship, my summers weren’t much better than my winters anymore. Hades built me several homes scattered across the world, and while I visited each and admired them all, my summers always began and ended at my mother’s cottage. But over time, she grew increasingly distant. Some summers she could pretend nothing was wrong, but I still felt the heat of her disappointment when she thought I wasn’t paying attention. Every glance, every absent hug and kiss—I felt them all, and they wore me down faster than my winter tomb ever could.

Hades and I never became anything more than we were, though I kept my promise to myself: I didn’t cheat on him again. And that faithfulness gave me what small amount of happiness I could find. I’d made mistakes, I’d been a terrible person, but I could at least give Hades my loyalty now. We ruled together, side by side, and we may not have been deliriously happy, but we were content. I grew better at appreciating the small things, finding joy in our routines, and eventually I accepted my fate. This was my life, and the time to change it had long since passed.

All of that shattered the day I saw him.

I was up in the observatory, but instead of watching the afterlives of the dead, I’d let my mind wander to the surface. Though I would’ve rather died than admit it to anyone, occasionally, when I was at my worst, I watched Aphrodite. While I languished in loneliness, she had lover after lover, a whole host of men who would have died for her—and some who really did. She had everything I wanted, and no matter how I tried to console myself, my hatred for her only grew.

But I never stopped watching her. Sometimes to live vicariously through her; sometimes to convince myself that I had it better. I didn’t, of course, but once in a while I’d stumble across moments that let me fool myself into believing it, if only for a short while.

This wasn’t one of those moments. As the last vestiges of sunset stretched across the horizon, Aphrodite splashed in the ocean with the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. He was tall and strong, his face perfectly proportioned and his coloring fair. His smile seemed brighter than the sun, and when he glanced in my direction—unable to see me, of course, but still—my heart pounded, and warmth filled me from head to toe. It was the way Hermes had made me feel so many lifetimes ago. The way I wanted Hades to make me feel.

I was instantly smitten, but I wasn’t the only one. As I watched them together, Aphrodite couldn’t take her eyes off him, either. Despite their games, she constantly kept a hand on him, as if she were afraid he would disappear. Maybe he would. Maybe he was some sort of illusion. There was no other explanation for how someone so handsome could exist and not be one of us.

He tackled her to the sand and tickled her, and her shrieks of delight made my head ache. So she’d won again. Another boy, this time the most perfect one I’d ever seen, and Hephaestus didn’t seem to care. If anything, he’d love her more tomorrow than he did today, because that’s the kind of man he was. Just like Hades.

“Adonis!” she cried, laughing. “Adonis, no, I have to get back. I’m already late as it is.”

“Take me with you,” he murmured, kissing her, and she melted against him. Usually this was my cue to look away or disappear, but something stopped me.

Adonis. That was his name. I whispered it to myself, feeling the syllables roll off my tongue, and I smiled. It was perfect. He was perfect. And I wanted him.

“Mmm, you know I would, but Daddy would kill me,” said Aphrodite, stealing another kiss. “I mean it this time—I really have to go. I have a council meeting.”

I blinked. Adonis knew she was a goddess? Not that men didn’t usually suspect when it came to her, but to actually mention the council…

“Very well,” he said, releasing her with one last kiss. “I will see you again shortly?”

“Soon,” she promised. “I do have to spend some time with my husband, you know.”