Girl, Goddess, Queen, page 14
Everything my mother has ever forced me to do to improve my marriage prospects is apparently something Hades loves. But how is this any different from me climbing out of my window when I should be weaving? Having to keep my true interests hidden because I’m not supposed to want those things?
Hades leans against the wall but his arms are folded, like even with my reassurances he’s still scared I’ll be harsh. Hades has never seemed vulnerable to me. But now it’s taking his every effort to even meet my eye.
I don’t think I’m the only one suffering under Zeus’s order. I don’t think it’s just us girls chafing under its restraints.
‘Besides,’ he continues, ‘I don’t care for being the best like they do. I just enjoy it. I would never be allowed all this if everyone knew.’ He’s so rigid it’s like every strand of his body is tensed.
‘That’s why the palace is covered in swords,’ I realize. ‘It’s a disguise.’
‘They think I’m the dark, brooding god of the dead, vanquisher of the Titans who longs for nothing more than isolation in the gloomy depths of the Underworld,’ he says. ‘It stops them from looking too closely at what I’m really doing.’
‘Which is this?’
‘Which is this,’ he confirms.
‘And that’s why you wanted me gone? In case I found all this out and used it against you?’
‘Yes. I’m sorry.’
‘I’m not blaming you.’
‘I was terrified. If you were sent by Zeus, like I thought, then you stumbling into the wrong room could have destroyed everything. You had such incredible power to ruin me.’
Power that he’s now handed me by telling me all this.
‘You have too high an opinion of my father if you think he’d listen to anything I have to say on the matter. I could probably go with a full report and he’d still ignore it.’
‘Trust me, few people could manage a lower opinion of Zeus than the one I hold.’
‘Is that a challenge?’
He sighs but there’s amusement there and the tension dissipates, just a touch. ‘Not everything is a competition. That’s the point.’
‘All right, but most things are. You’re just grumpy I won and you couldn’t scare me off.’
‘I think I did a remarkable job, personally. Acting the part and everything.’
‘All the theatrics …’ I realize. ‘The smoke and the tremors … they’re all an act too, right?’
‘They always have been.’ He smiles and the smoke appears. Then it turns pink, then blue, then stops being smoke altogether and becomes flowers instead. ‘The first beings Zeus rescued in the war were the cyclopes. In return, they made things for us – Zeus’s thunderbolt and Poseidon’s trident. I was given a helmet that rendered the wearer invisible. Before Zeus took the throne and dished the domains out as spoils of war, the domain used to claim the god. The moment that helmet touched my head, some form of magic claimed me. I think I’m the god of illusion, really, or something like that. I was a child training for war when I was given this realm. If I’d veiled myself in ocean spray I imagine it would be Poseidon down here now. But I wanted the Underworld – what was it you said? – somewhere to run away to. So I wreathed myself in a shroud of darkness and the whispers of the dead and Hell was mine.’
I stare, unable to do much else. It’s one thing after the next. ‘I’ll swear on the Styx,’ I say. ‘Like the nymphs do. I won’t tell anyone.’
‘You don’t need to swear to it. I know you wouldn’t tell anyone.’ I must show my disbelief because he laughs. ‘You found a loophole in wards made by a dozen deities, ran to Hell without telling anyone and presumably kept much of who you are a secret your entire life. I can trust you with this, I think.’
I nod. ‘Right. I won’t say a word. Come on, it’s my turn now.’
‘What?’
‘Well, did you want to see my plans for this realm or not?’
‘I …’
‘This is a lot, Hades. Thank you. So … yes, if you can trust me with this, I can trust you in return. Let’s go talk about the afterlife.’
I show him my idea. Three separate parts: a paradise, the details of which I’m still filling in; a deterrent, filled with terrors I’m still ruminating over; and something in between.
Spoken aloud, it’s more than I thought I had.
Leaning over the documents, we’ve become a little too close and I think of his hand in mine earlier. Is it worrying, how natural it’s becoming to gravitate towards each other?
‘I like it,’ he says simply.
I don’t think I realized how much his approval means to me. It’s more than just his favour: I’m being encouraged rather than dissuaded from the sort of thing I’ve always wanted, supported rather than told it’s beyond me to make a difference to this world.
Just three little words – and they mean everything.
WHEN I RETURN TO MY room after breakfast the next morning, a painting hangs above the bed. It’s stunning, as all of Hades’ creations are. It’s both lifelike and too iridescent to truly replicate life – deep, like he’s captured something more than an image in the paint.
And it pictures a field of asphodel. The flower I created only days ago. Which means he’s painted this while I’ve been here.
I bite my lip but I’m not able to stop my smile. When did he work on this? When did he decide to share it, no, give it to me? The gift feels even more intimate than yesterday’s revelation and I immediately begin to spiral. Why has he done this? What does he want from me in return? What does it mean?
Then I take a deep breath and allow myself to simply enjoy it.
On closer inspection, I see Hades has used thick, clumpy paint so that the petals are raised from the surface. He’s made the pollen black, even though asphodel’s real pollen is orange, and now I wish I’d chosen this more striking colour. The paint is pure and pitch. It’s darker than Hades’ eyes but nonetheless it reminds me of them, like if I stare hard enough I might get sucked into the shadows.
It’s actually very annoying that the painting is so good. It doesn’t seem right for someone with their own world to be this talented. Every time Mother put a brush in my hand, I’d dip my fingers into the paint instead and leave, spattered, with thousands of ideas brimming of new flowers to create.
Hades would make the perfect daughter. Though I only mean it with snide humour, the thought sobers me. This genuinely is all Mother ever wanted from me. And then what? If I had been talented like this would she have seen it? Would she have praised me until the thought of doing anything else was sickening? Or would she have seen the raised bumps I find so wonderful as flaws to be sanded? Would she have found something else to pick at? And, even if she hadn’t, what would I have been other than a bundle of skills she could market? Would my father look at my work with a satisfied nod? Would he agree this is what I am good at – all I am good at – and wonder how he ever could have worried I might challenge him when I’m only a little girl good with a brush?
I suddenly feel a lot more confident about my ability to change this realm simply because my parents would never expect it of me. And it seems I am very good at doing the things they don’t expect.
‘It’s almost creepy, you know.’ I’m grinning when I join Hades in the library but his eyebrow quirks and he barely looks up from his papers.
On the Styx, him and his papers.
‘You hung the painting over the bed?’ I ask.
Hades laughs. ‘Tempest’s choice.’
‘Sure it was, Hades, sure it was.’
‘I thought you might like it.’ Now he’s definitely staring at the paper.
‘I do. Thank you.’
He meets my eye and that cocky smirk is back in place. ‘Why, that was almost genuine!’
‘I believe I’ve thanked you plenty, Hades,’ I say. Even when I thought he was an insufferable arse, I was still thankful he wasn’t worse.
‘That’s true. Not that I need your thanks this time – consider the painting a thank you for the asphodel.’
‘Well, it’s nice to have confirmation that you like it.’
‘Of course I like it. I like it less now it’s spread across the realm but it’s still … a very nice flower.’
‘I was wondering how you felt about that,’ I say. ‘When I spread the plant you were still being a prick.’
‘Well, it was hardly a subtle act on your behalf. The floral equivalent of a dog pissing to mark its territory.’
I don’t exactly laugh – more cackle. Hades looks pleased with himself.
‘I want to argue but yeah, actually, I did spread them out of spite.’
‘I know. A nice flower, though, with the spite removed.’
I remove the spite the next day and fill the entire palace with bouquets of asphodel, along with a few other flowers I’ve managed to grow. I’m not sure whether Hades has seen the styx blossoms yet, so I place a large bouquet in the library.
‘I’m not watering these,’ Tempest grumbles as she reluctantly hands me a vase. I realize that the vases must have been made by Hades. The flowers work well with his intricate designs.
‘More territory marking?’ Hades asks when he joins me in the library. We have yet another day ahead of trawling through scrolls, looking for any clue of how this world works. He moves to stand beside me and examines the flowers. He leans in to smell them with a small smile playing on his lips.
‘No.’ My own smile feels different around him, almost embarrassed. ‘Not this time. A marble palace is all very well and good, but it’s not exactly the most inviting place to live.’
‘Are you critiquing my hospitality now?’
I know he’s teasing and before I know what I’m doing I playfully push him away. I flush and turn from him so he can’t see. I wasn’t expecting such hard muscles beneath that cloak …
‘Of course not.’ I stumble over the words. ‘But you can never have too many flowers.’
‘The lands of Hades might disagree.’
‘Do you?’ I challenge.
‘No,’ he acquiesces. ‘I actually quite like them.’
‘What’s all the fuss about then?’
Hades shrugs. ‘Well, I can’t make it too easy for you.’
Styx can barely understand all this when I tell her – after checking with Hades what she knows. Everything, apparently.
‘He gave you a painting? I … right, okay.’
‘I guess he’s never had anyone to do that for before. He was probably excited,’ I say. ‘It’s a gorgeous painting.’
‘I’m sure.’ She gives me a look, one I can’t decipher.
‘I filled the halls with flowers in return,’ I say. ‘I wish I could give him something permanent to remember me by when I’m gone.’
‘Don’t talk about that,’ she scolds.
‘It’s true.’
‘I know but I don’t want reminding.’
‘Aww, you like me!’
‘Yeah and apparently I’m not the only one.’
I laugh. ‘Sure, he doesn’t even yell at me any more. He must like me.’
‘He shared secrets with you that most people have to swear an unbreakable oath to be privy to – he likes you.’
‘Yes, well, being at each other’s throats was beginning to get in the way of research.’
Styx sighs. ‘Whatever, dear. All I’m saying is that he doesn’t need anything to remember you by. He’s not going to be forgetting you in a hurry.’
Hades hovers over my shoulder while I take more notes on potential afterlives.
‘You think that’s paradise?’ he asks sceptically.
‘What? Why not?’ I turn to face him. ‘I loved it when it rained on Sicily – I’d go running out and play in the mud and –’
‘Because you’re a goddess! You had servants for –’
‘You have servants!’
‘Yes, and I am literally the king of Hell – kings get servants. My point is that many of those humans were not kings, and none were goddesses. They probably died because they were out in the rain and caught a disease or something.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I’m the king of Hell. I mentioned this.’ Hades has gone from trying to annoy me into breaking xenia to annoying me simply because it’s fun. The worst part is that our growing familiarity means he knows precisely how to get under my skin. Actually, the worst part is that I think a part of me enjoys it. I go into our conversations like I have a point to prove, like beating him means something.
‘You’ve never even spoken to them!’
‘Of course not, but –’ he waves his hand – ‘I get the gist. And I’ve spoken to people who have, Charon and –’
‘You’re ridiculous.’
‘And you’re spoilt. You have to acknowledge that you’re in no position to know what humans want.’
That brings me up short because, damn it, he’s right. I’ve spent my whole life on an island with nymphs. I’ve never even met a live human.
I glance at the notes I’ve been taking. I’ve been so absorbed trying to work out what the weather cycles are like in lands outside Sicily that I never stopped to consider whether the humans actually like them, whatever they are. ‘We need to talk to them,’ I decide. ‘We’ve done all we can with notes. Come on, let’s go.’
I know it will be tiring, healing souls enough to talk to them, but it can’t be harder than creating a rift in the land itself. And now that my parents know where I am, it’s a risk I have to take. I might be hauled to Olympus at any moment – I’ll suffer the tiredness.
‘What?’ Hades scowls. ‘No, you talk to them. I’ll do all the research, as I suggested, and you can meet the people you’re designing an afterlife for.’
‘Come on, you’re supposed to be helping me.’
‘I am helping – these books were written by mortals. You talk, I’ll read.’
‘Why don’t you want to go near them?’ I ask. The entire time I’ve been here, he’s never once mentioned visiting them. Even with the souls decayed as they are, surely Hades’ curiosity as ruler of the land would take him there?
‘You know what their memories are like, bleeding out of them. They’re inescapable and so many are miserable.’
‘Exactly, which is why we’re doing this. You can’t just ignore their suffering.’
‘I’ve got enough suffering of my own, thank you,’ he says with a pointed glance in my direction. I refuse to rise to the taunt. At my judging glare, he continues, ‘I have no desire to add their memories to my own.’
‘You’re a king – I thought we covered this. What memories do you have of suffering?’
For a second, he hesitates. Then he sputters: ‘I was eaten!’
‘Oh, you can’t even remember it. You are not playing that card again.’
‘Playing that card? I was bloody eaten!’
‘You’re changing the subject. Come and talk to the humans with me.’
Hades throws his quill down and stands. ‘I’ll come with you but only because I haven’t seen Cerberus in a while. I’m not talking to the humans.’
‘Fine. Wait, who’s Cerberus?’
Cerberus, it turns out, is a three-headed dog the size of my cottage. Hades whistles loudly then grins as the beast bounds over the hill.
‘Cerberus. Really?’ I say. The word means hound of the Earth. ‘Was “Underworld Puppy” too on the nose?’
‘I thought it suited him,’ Hades says simply.
When the hound sees Hades (with all three heads), he comes charging over with such speed that he knocks Hades to the ground. I expect Hades to reprimand the animal but instead he beams and rubs one head.
‘Go talk to your humans then,’ he says from the ground. ‘I’m quite all right here.’
So I do. It’s like the sun hitting my skin, the first breath of clean air after being shut up inside. It brings me back to myself.
My concerns about fatigue turn out to be baseless. It’s easier to bring the mortals back this time because I know what I’m looking for. Whatever connection I’ve found to this land comes rushing back. I get through dozens of souls before the tiredness hits. I stop, cutting myself off before I can push it too far. I’ll come back every day that I can and heal as many as I can in my time left. Hades will be so excited when I tell him it worked.
Larissa returns to my side the moment I appear in the human realms and waves away my attempts to apologize for taking so long. I’d thought I could do more good in the library but now I’m not so sure. Staring at souls in full colour – nearly opaque once more, talking to one another, almost alive again – it’s difficult to believe I should be anywhere else. And they have so much to say! And it’s so easy. So much easier than the scrolls. I curse my fear of exhaustion because I could have been doing this the whole time. I can imagine it now, every land I have always wanted to see, created in the Underworld from the stories the humans tell. I might not be able to see the world but I could bring the world to me.
In my final days of freedom, I could have everything I ever wanted.
‘YOU CAN’T LIVE DOWN HERE,’ Hades says, and for a moment I think he means the Underworld – then I realize he means the cavern with the lake whose waters I am staring into.
Mother has known I am missing for five days now, and she’s not stopped searching for a moment of them.
He’s beside me, suddenly, and I start as his hand brushes mine.
‘You’re freezing,’ he scolds, pulling his himation off and draping the heavy fabric across my shoulders. He is left standing in his thin tunic.
It smells of him – bergamot tea and peppery soap – and I find myself pulling it closer, burying my chin into it and breathing in. I must have been colder than I realized.
‘How long have you been down here?’
‘I’m not sure,’ I say honestly. It can’t have been long or I’d be sitting on the edge, as I have done every day after dragging myself back from talking to the mortals. Tired from healing too many of them and from hours spent in conversation, I sit and watch my mother and try to work out how close she is to finding me.
