Girl, Goddess, Queen, page 22
‘Now is not the time –’ Zeus starts but Mother, at least, understands what his presence means.
‘Is she there?’ Mother demands. ‘Hades?’
Hermes nods, a sharp, short movement which is as contained as the smile that doesn’t touch his lips but glistens in his eyes.
‘Oh, thank the Fates,’ Mother says, her pragmatism vanishing. ‘Is … She’s … That is to say …’
‘Hades,’ Zeus spits, ‘will –’
‘Even your lightning cannot strike down there,’ Hermes cuts him off before we have to drink another cup.
‘Perhaps not, but my sword can,’ Zeus snarls.
‘Is that a euphemism?’ Hermes quips. ‘Helios, go and busy yourself elsewhere.’
Helios doesn’t have to be told twice, even as Zeus rounds on his messenger.
‘You have no right to dismiss my subjects.’
‘Trust me, Father, you will want a more private audience for this.’
Mother gasps. ‘Is she okay? What’s he done to her?’
Hermes snickers. ‘Oh, she is quite all right. I’m not entirely sure you were honest with us, Demeter; beautiful though she undoubtedly is, bashful and demure is not quite what I got from her.’
‘What?’ Mother breathes and, for the first time in all this, a more familiar kind of concern touches my mother’s eyes. ‘What has she done?’
‘She asked me to tell you that she is happy,’ he says.
‘Is that all?’ Mother snarls. ‘He could have forced her to say that.’
Hermes smiles. ‘Not quite.’
His smile rapidly disappears as Zeus grabs the collar of his robe and lifts him from his feet. His sandals flap their wings and his panicked look of strangulation disappears in seconds. The wariness lingers.
‘Enough of this,’ Zeus snarls. ‘What do you know of Kore?’
‘Well, for one, she goes by Persephone now,’ Hermes says.
Zeus drops him and after a second Hermes lands softly back on the surface.
Hades and I burst into laughter at the expressions on my parents’ faces. The bewilderment, the anger and, finally, the suspicion.
‘Chaos bringer?’ Zeus mutters. ‘Isn’t that what I –’
‘Is that truly what matters to you?’ Mother cuts him off.
Zeus considers it and a new wave of rage crashes over him. ‘Hades thinks he can kidnap my daughter, keep her prisoner and rename her?’
‘Your father really does have a very low opinion of me, and of your agency,’ Hades says.
I shrug. ‘I’m an innocent party here.’
And then we’re laughing again, so much that we nearly miss Hermes’ response.
‘I believe it was mutual.’
‘This is ridiculous,’ Zeus snarls. ‘I’m not wasting another second discussing this when I could be taking Kore back and wringing Hades’ neck.’
‘My wine store was not made for Zeus drinking games,’ Hades says as he refills our glasses.
‘Did you see how drunk the Erinyes were? This is hardly a dent,’ I protest.
‘If they continue like this we might drain the whole cellar.’
‘Then I’ll grow some grapes. Now shush, we’re missing the show.’
There’s another quick-fire argument between my parents: Father screaming that he will wrench me from the Underworld and Mother saying that no one wants me back more than she does but they have to be more subtle than that or it will be war.
‘There’s no need for all that,’ Hermes says calmly.
‘He took my daughter,’ Mother says, eliciting another sip from both of us. ‘He has done unspeakable things to her –’
‘If it helps, I truly do not believe he has.’ Hermes wrinkles his nose. ‘Honestly, this is the first thing he’s ever done to suggest he’s anything but a law-abiding, boring prick.’
Hades arches an eyebrow. ‘It seems words are to be had with my court messenger.’
I’m too busy laughing to reply. After all, it was that very reputation that had me risking the leap to Hell.
‘And did he say that?’ Mother asks. ‘Why else would he take her?’
‘Her artistic talents?’ Hermes suggests.
‘Zeus, do feel free to wipe your son from this realm at your earliest opportunity,’ Mother says calmly.
Hermes gives her a withering look. ‘Surely it’s not been so long since the war that you’re incapable of doing it yourself?’
‘Boy.’ Zeus’s voice is deadly as he lifts his lightning bolt.
Hermes raises his hands in surrender.
‘They announced their engagement tonight,’ he says.
‘What?’ Mother asks, hand on her heart. ‘She can’t marry him. She …’
‘Has lost all other prospects.’ Hermes shrugs. ‘And she asked me to tell you that she could not hope for a better match.’
‘She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She’s just a girl,’ Mother says.
‘She was,’ Hermes says. ‘As I say, she is “little girl” no longer.’
‘That bastard,’ Zeus growls. ‘He did not even have the decency to vie for her hand with the others.’
‘Perhaps he knew you’d never give it,’ Hermes suggests.
‘If he thinks this will stop me from throttling him then he is very much mistaken.’
‘He actually made a suggestion,’ Hermes says as we down yet another drink. ‘He offered you the opportunity to claim ownership for what happened.’
Zeus sputters and I struggle not to choke on the wine.
‘I’m sorry, what?’
Hades grins like nothing in the world could amuse him more.
‘He told me to offer you the idea of claiming you helped orchestrate it. I presume he means that you imply you wanted this match and needed to go behind Demeter’s back,’ Hermes explains.
‘That’s what you whispered to Hermes?’ I ask.
Hades nods.
‘You evil genius.’
‘Evil?’
I shrug. ‘It’s relative.’
This time Zeus’s anger is too explosive for cleverly worded threats. Hades smirks proudly.
‘How dare he?’ Father seethes.
‘I’d urge you to consider it,’ Hermes says. ‘It would save face with many gods.’
‘And let him believe he can do something like this to his king again?’ Zeus demands.
‘Well, he only gets one wife,’ Hermes says. ‘And she did seem truly happy. And he is a king in his own right – I know, I know, you’re the king of all of us gods, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying it’s a fine match for Persephone.’
‘Stop calling her that,’ Mother snaps. ‘She can’t marry the king of Hell. The Underworld is no place for her – she’s too delicate. She needs flowers and nature and her mother. She needs to stay at this court.’
‘She’s wasted no time in redecorating, if it helps,’ Hermes interjects. ‘She hardly seemed delicate either. Actually, if I had to say anything, she seemed right at home.’
Mother’s eyes flash. ‘What would you know of my daughter, Hermes?’
‘Very little and I assume it would have stayed that way,’ he says, smiling in that uniquely provoking way of his. ‘I take it I was not successful in vying for her hand?’
‘We were still considering our options,’ Father says grimly. ‘But now it appears there’s only one.’
‘What?’ Mother turns to him, suddenly alarmed. ‘You can’t seriously be considering this. I know I said you can’t just barge down there and take her back, but, just because we haven’t figured out how to get her back yet, doesn’t mean we stop trying to work that out.’
‘And what do we do with her when we do get her back?’ Zeus asks. ‘No one else will have her. And they have announced their engagement publicly.’
‘No,’ Mother says quietly.
Father’s anger still bristles in the tense, resigned nod he gives before turning his steely glare on Hermes. ‘You tell Hades that he only gets one chance to humiliate me. This is it.’
‘I get many chances, Zeus dear, I just don’t take you up on them,’ Hades says.
‘I think that’s enough of that,’ I say, rising to trail my fingers through the water. The journey is a lot more dizzying than I recall.
The image disappears.
I stumble on my way back, collapsing half on to Hades’ lap.
‘There’s that grace I know so well.’ Hades smirks as I slide next to him.
‘I didn’t knock the wine over and that’s all that matters,’ I say. I’m not sure if Helios’s chariot’s power has reached through these waters, but the whole cavern feels lit by sunlight.
He’s closer than before and I inhale that scent, the irresistible smell of him now tinged with wine. It’s stained his lips. It must have stained mine too.
If I kissed him, would that be all I could taste?
I’m too drunk to chase the thoughts away. The alcohol almost feels like the perfect cover – I could blame it on the drink if he doesn’t feel the same way.
And I’m far, far too drunk to consider the consequences if he does feel the same way, the two of us trapped together without the space to explore whatever this could be.
He’s looking at me, laughter still ringing, and there’s something about the expression on his face. I’m lying on the floor in an evening gown Aphrodite would rip right off my back. My hair is a mess, my lipstick smudged and my cheeks flushed with amusement. No one has ever seen me like this before and, for the first time in what feels like so long, I’m glad I feel vulnerable. What if my walls, in failing to keep something out, have let something wonderful in?
‘I can’t tell you how good it is to see you so happy.’ Hades’ voice is suddenly serious, his eyes focused intently on mine. They’re so close, so captivating. I could waste an eternity looking into them. ‘I’d marry you a thousand times if it let you, the real you, find happiness like that.’
Indeed, I taste the wine first before the feel of his lips registers. My kiss is hungry and desperate and so full of things that I can’t say that it feels like a gasp for air. His lips are firm and his skin soft as my hands cup his face, pulling him towards me, and I’m not even sure if my heart is beating. My whole body is hyper-alert and numb at the same time and –
Hades pulls away, eyes frosty, body tense.
‘Don’t do that,’ he says softly, blinking with dazed confusion, like he can’t believe what I’ve done, like I’ve hurt him somehow.
He hastens to his feet as if his only purpose is to put distance between us.
‘There’s no one here. No one is watching,’ he says, anger building with each word. ‘I don’t need a damn performance.’
I jump to my feet too because I can’t stand his anger while I’m staring up at him. ‘Hades, I –’ But the words get stuck in my throat as something slams shut inside me, and I don’t know what I’d say anyway.
‘I don’t want this,’ he fumes. ‘I don’t want this from you at all. Why do you keep thinking I do?’
My eyes sting but I nod. ‘Okay, okay, I’m sorry.’
He shakes his head. ‘I can’t keep doing this. Every time I think you understand me, you go and … It doesn’t matter. I’m going to bed.’ His lips twist. ‘And, just to be clear, I don’t want you there either so don’t come and find me.’
I bite my tongue to hold back my tears. Is the rejection not bad enough without his anger? His rage? I thought … I thought … Fates, I wasn’t thinking at all, but if I were I might have expected a gentle refusal, not this apparent disgust, repulsion so strong it has the kindest man I know on the verge of shouting.
Go! I want to scream. Get out of here! I don’t want him to see how much his words have hurt me. Worse, I don’t want him to see how angry I am at myself for ever risking this and managing to fuck it up quite so badly. But if I open my mouth I’ll start sobbing, so I just nod instead.
He gives me one last look that I can’t decipher, something raw and angry and hurt.
And then he’s gone.
I SPEND MOST OF THE NIGHT crying into my pillow, snotty and choking on my own tears, wishing I had Cyane or even my mother to comfort me. But then I think of what my mother might say: ‘Oh my darling. Young hearts are so easily swayed – and so easily broken. That’s why I’m choosing your match – to save you from all this. Chin up, and next time you’ll know to leave it all to me.’
And then I’m crying harder because maybe she would be right. Maybe I never should have trusted the way I was feeling. In the sways of my hurt and the effects of the wine, I even start to feel that, if I’d never come to the Underworld, I wouldn’t be in so much pain right now.
By morning, my throat is raw and my eyes are bleary.
I contemplate staying in bed, but my mouth is the driest it’s ever been and the need to inhale a bucket of water drags me towards the dining room.
Hades is sitting waiting.
Right. Of course he is.
Just the sight of him has my heart thundering again, mostly from embarrassment and fear of his rage lingering, but – and I hate to admit it – partly from the excited memory of his lips.
Did he kiss me back at all? I can’t remember. Would I have been able to feel it? It’s not like I have much experience to go on.
‘Good morning,’ he greets me. ‘How are you feeling?’
I stare. Is that it? A night spent sobbing, thinking I ruined our friendship, replaying his angry rejection a thousand times, and he greets me with something so mundane?
‘We drank a lot of wine,’ he clarifies.
‘Yes,’ I say, fumbling for my chair. ‘I think I’m fine. You?’
‘I’ve been better,’ he says, picking up his glass of water. ‘Persephone, we need to talk about last night.’
‘No, we don’t,’ I say, grabbing for any food on the table and ending up with pomegranates again. Bloody pomegranates. ‘I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. There’s nothing more to discuss.’
‘All right.’
I glance up at the quiet gentleness in his voice. There’s something off about him. He’s speaking like he’s rehearsed it. I wonder if I wasn’t the only one awake for half the night.
‘When we decided we would marry and rushed the announcement, we never really spoke about what that might mean in reality. I know we are pretending in public and I know you think I am doing you a favour, but I’m not. I don’t need something in return for this arrangement. You don’t need to … to try to please me or anything like that. You don’t owe me. Irritating the Olympians and keeping you safe is reward enough.’
I hesitate, completely lost for words. Well, not completely. It’s more that ‘You’re an idiot – that’s not why I kissed you’ doesn’t seem the best response right now.
I can still see the way he pulled away – no, cringed back – from me.
The way he frantically got to his feet.
He couldn’t get his angry words out fast enough.
He doesn’t want me that way.
That’s fine.
And now he’s giving me an out, a way to stop this being awkward.
I nod. ‘I understand.’
Hades sighs. ‘Good.’
He reaches for his food and we lapse into silence for a few moments.
‘Well?’ he asks.
‘Well, what?’
‘Insult me or something. This silence is weird,’ he says.
I grin, although I still feel shaky. ‘Well, we established yesterday that me insulting you counts as flirting, so under the circumstances I don’t think it would be appropriate.’
His shoulders fall as he finally relaxes, a hesitant smile on his lips. ‘I think insulting each other is just us being us.’
I’m not sure what I expected from the day but it’s not the relentless wedding planning I encounter.
‘Isn’t this what your mother has been training you for since birth?’ Hades groans, head in his hands, as Tempest asks us to pick between yet another two pieces of identical-looking fabric.
‘Isn’t this what you spend all day doing?’ I retort.
‘This isn’t art.’ He looks at me like his will to live has disappeared. ‘This is admin.’
‘Okay,’ I say, standing up. ‘That’s enough of this.’
‘Persephone, we’re getting married in five days.’
‘Yes, and I have flowers to organize,’ I say. I turn to Tempest. ‘Do you enjoy this?’
‘Take one guess.’ She glowers, the fabric swatches clutched tight in her intangible hands.
‘I thought not. You’re dismissed.’
I can almost feel her relief. She runs before I can change my mind.
‘Persephone,’ Hades protests.
I shake my head. ‘Believe me, most of the people I grew up with would love this. I’m sure some of the mortals would jump at the opportunity. I’ll let them organize it.’
Hades hesitates. ‘I’m not sure that’s best.’
‘We’ll review it all,’ I say. ‘And you’ll be given a chance to add your own overly dramatic flair.’
He scoffs. ‘I’m terribly sorry, did you just have the nerve to call me dramatic?’
‘Darling,’ I say, ‘there is a literal deity of drama and I’m fairly certain he doesn’t come close to our level. I’m dramatic, yes, but so are you.’
He suppresses a smile. ‘Perhaps.’
‘So … I’m going to go outside because I can’t stand this, and I can do something useful by sorting out the flowers. And you can go make the crockery for the feast or whatever it is you want to do,’ I propose.
Hades smiles in that small, self-conscious way he does whenever we discuss his art. All those hobbies he swore to keep secret, the ones he isolated himself to defend.
‘I wanted to ask you, actually,’ I say, ‘whether you were planning on making my wedding dress?’
‘No,’ he says quickly. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’
‘I thought you liked a challenge?’ I tease.
He picks up the scraps of fabric we were comparing and rubs the fibres together like he’s trying to gauge their quality. ‘I just think,’ he says without looking at me. ‘That … it might be odd. It would be like I’m dressing you for how I want to see you. Like I’m selecting how you appear to me.’
