Persephone stared at the goddess, but Hecate didn’t seem to notice her stunned silence.
“I like her better this way.”
She looked up at the Goddess of Spring then and asked, “But enough about Gale. What can I help you with, my dear?”
That question was all it took—Persephone erupted, breaking into a seething tangent about Hades, the contract, and her impossible wager, avoiding details about this morning’s disaster. She even admitted her greatest secret—that she could not grow a single thing. When she finished, Hecate looked thoughtful but not surprised.
“If you cannot give life, what can you do?” she asked.
“Destroy it.”
Hecate’s pretty brows furrowed over her dark eyes.
“You have never grown anything at all?” Hecate asked.
Persephone shook her head, and then met the Goddess’ gaze.
“Show me.”
“Hecate…I don’t think that’s—”
“I’d like to see.”
Persephone sighed, and turned her hands over. She stared at her palms for a long moment before bending and pressing them to the grass. Where it was green before, it yellowed and withered beneath her touch. When she looked at Hecate, the goddess was staring at her hands.
“I think that is why Hades’ challenged me to create life, because he knew it was impossible.”
Hecate did not look so certain. “Hades does not challenge people with the impossible. He challenges them to embrace their potential.”
“And what is my potential?” She asked.
“To be the Goddess of Spring,” Hecate answered. The polecat hopped off her lap as she got to her feet, brushing off her skirts. She expected the goddess to continue asking questions about her magic, but instead she said thoughtfully, “Gardening is not the only way to create life.”
Persephone looked at the Goddess. “How else should I create life?”
She could tell by the amused look on her face that she wasn’t going to like what Hecate had to say.
“You could have a baby.”
“What?”
“Of course, to fulfill the contract, Hades would have to be the father,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard Persephone. “He would be furious if it were anyone else.”
She decided she was going to ignore that comment. “I’m not having Hades’ child, Hecate.”
“You asked for suggestions. I was merely trying to be a good friend.”
“And you are—but I am not ready for children and Hades is not a god I would want as a father to my children.”
She felt a bit guilty for saying that last part out loud.
“What am I going to do? Ugh, this is impossible!”
“It is not as impossible as it seems, my dear. You are in the Underworld, after all.”
“You do realize the Underworld is the realm of the dead, don’t you Hecate?”
“It is also a place for new beginnings,” she said. “Sometimes, the existence a soul leads here is the best life they’ve ever had. I’m sure you, of all the gods, understand that best.”