Girl, Goddess, Queen, page 26
‘Indeed,’ I say instead of the tirade I long to give about him treating me as his property.
‘I’m just glad to see you finally accepting your role, Kore,’ he says, his anger with Hades subsiding into grim satisfaction, as I knew it would. By the end of the night he might be so pleased at my subservience that he will really believe he wanted this. ‘You’ve impressed me, doing all that you have to make your husband happy.’
‘Well, I knew there was no way Hades could have taken me if you didn’t want him to,’ I say, slipping beside Hades, my arm twisting round his waist. ‘And if you want this match then I want it too.’
‘I hope some of the other goddesses of the court can learn from you, Kore,’ Father says.
For the first time, I see that this has never been about me. I could laugh or scream or run at my father, nails reaching. He’s spent my whole life making me miserable because I wanted too much, too publicly. If unchecked, I might have inspired other girls to do the same.
Hera given power and bound to his side. Mother a seat on the council and a daughter to protect. Artemis freedom so long as she is outcast. Aphrodite something as enormous as love and a forced marriage to a man she hates. Athena his ear so long as she sides with him. Hestia eternal virginhood if she sticks to the home. Always stipulations – things to temper what we could do, the women we could be.
Hades stiffens at my side, his hand at my back running in soothing circles like he senses my anger and knows it would be a dangerous thing not to temper it.
‘I hope so too,’ I hiss. ‘Are the parties back together?’ I ask Hades before I say anything I might regret.
‘I believe so.’
‘Then it’s time to dance.’
Despite everything, despite his powers of acting far surpassing mine, annoyance flashes in his eyes.
My grin widens.
Just try to say no to dancing now, Hades.
‘Very well,’ he manages, words escaping from his clenched teeth.
‘We shall continue this conversation later,’ Zeus promises, eyeing Hades with a hatred I doubt he’s shown since he strapped Prometheus to a rock.
‘Oh, there’s no need for that.’ Hades’ happiness is the same mischievous kind that led him to suggest to Hermes that he present the match as Zeus’s idea. ‘I believe we both know precisely where it was going.’
Drunken deities cheer us the moment we return and, though I couldn’t have been gone for more than fifteen minutes, but it’s clear that wine flowed swiftly for every single one of them. I spot Dionysus in the crowd and he raises his glass with a smile not dissimilar to the one Hades just wore. I wonder whether he is responsible for the stumbling gods and hiccupping goddesses.
‘I hate you,’ Hades whispers in my ear.
‘Well, that didn’t take long,’ I say. ‘The wedding isn’t even over yet.’
One of his hands grasps my waist, pulling me close, while the other takes my hand. ‘I shall add it to my list of regrets.’
‘Perhaps the Muses will inspire you,’ I propose. ‘In fact, they were just at my table.’
His eyes are particularly captivating today.
‘It’s unlikely,’ Hades says. ‘I am not a creative person.’ His fingers brush the dress he made.
‘And a terrible dancer, from what I hear,’ I say.
Hades’ returning smile is wolfish. ‘Oh no, not at all.’
The music starts and he whisks me off my feet.
I’ve danced so many times but the music of the nymphs is wilder, less rhythmic and more intuitive. I would twist and shape my body until its movements felt like a natural extension of the notes.
Nothing about this is easy.
I dart and turn, guided by Hades, and while I’m stumbling to keep up he moves like he invented dance itself.
No, he’s definitely not a terrible dancer.
He smiles at me the entire time, never looking away once, his strong hand in mine the only thing keeping me upright.
‘You’re awful at this,’ he whispers in my ear.
‘Where did you even learn to dance like this?’ I demand.
‘It helps with footwork, you know. Swing a woman round a dancefloor and you can swing a sword on a battlefield. Here.’ His hand presses against the small of my back, drawing me closer to him, and with his breath hot against the side of my cheek I can’t help the shiver that runs through me. ‘Let me help.’
Suddenly he’s the only thing keeping me moving, holding me close and lifting me, one hand on my back and the other clasped firmly in mine. I feel so dizzy as we spin round the room. I’m glad he’s holding me or I’d stumble to the floor.
‘Keep your eyes on me,’ he says and I turn from the blurred room to his eyes, steady, unwavering, a brown so dark it could pass for black. I don’t think he’s doing it on purpose – playing that game where we try to make the other’s desire burn. I don’t think he’s trying to make me come undone. But I don’t believe my dizziness is solely from spinning on a dance floor.
He releases me suddenly only to use the momentum to spin round me and catch me again. I twirl and he dips me so low his arm really is the only thing holding me up. I’m out of breath and gazing up at him. When he guides me up I collapse against him with delighted laughter.
‘Well, aren’t you full of surprises,’ I gasp.
Hades raises an eyebrow. ‘I aim to please.’
Apparently. The gods break into thunderous applause before joining us on the dance floor. I dance, with much less vigour, with other deities.
Hades returns with my wine glass and other gods pull me into conversations with them that are at turns fascinating and tedious. Nymphs appear with yet more food and, as the evening progresses, Apollo, Hemera and Helios begin to fade until they resemble regular immortals and Selene, Nyx and Artemis begin to glow in their stead. When the star gods too begin to glisten, Ares climbs on to a table and begins bashing his dagger against his glass.
‘Come now, it must be time!’ he roars.
The assembled deities give resounding cheers of agreement.
‘Get them!’
I had been talking to Aether, Pan and Eros but now they all grasp me, laughing at my startled expression.
This is the part of the wedding Mother always skirted past – when the bride and groom are marched to the bed chamber.
Other gods rush to join in. Antheia grabs my left arm while Morpheus takes my right. Across the room I see Hades facing a similar crowd: Pontus pulling his arms behind his back while others grasp his robes to pull him forward, Pheme and Peitho giggling as his sleeve rips in their hands.
I’m not sure how they know where they’re going, but they drag us – not that we’re resisting – to Hades’ bedroom and fling us inside. The door slams shut but it’s not thick enough to keep us from hearing the uproarious laughter of the gods on the other side.
And, finally, I turn to face my husband.
Alone.
HADES’ AURA DISAPPEARS THE SECOND the door shuts. He brings his finger to his lips as I open my own to speak. He draws close to me and the moments seem to take forever.
Wine pulses through me and I lean into him.
‘They’re still outside,’ he whispers, breath hot on my skin.
‘Why?’ I ask.
‘Because they have nothing better to do,’ he says quietly. ‘And to ensure the marriage is consummated.’
I blink at him, wondering if he’s about to exclaim that he’s joking.
He doesn’t.
‘Oh,’ I say.
Then without warning I moan against his finger on my pressed lips, not taking my eyes off Hades and revelling in the horrified shock that flashes across his face.
The faint sound of snickering gods filters beneath the door and I smile my most innocent of grins.
‘What are you doing?’ Hades hisses.
‘Remember that reputation of yours?’
‘I’m familiar with it.’
‘It just got so much better,’ I say before whimpering so loudly I can’t even hear the gods respond.
‘Where did you even learn this? When I met you, your name meant pure,’ Hades whispers, pulling me away from the door and into the room.
‘How many times must I tell you that the only company I’ve had for my entire life are nymphs?’ I ask, though, to be fair, I’m a little surprised at myself.
‘I’m surrounded by nymphs and I’ve never found the whole “nymphomania” thing to be true –’
‘It’s hardly something they’d talk about with you.’
I kick his shin and he grunts.
‘What was that for?’ he demands.
I shrug. ‘I have a reputation to maintain too.’
‘No, you don’t,’ he says.
‘Well, I do now.’
‘What if I’d said “ow” instead?’
‘Then I would have made fun of the almighty king of the Underworld for saying “ow”.’
‘Persephone.’
‘I would have made it work. They’re gods – they’ve definitely heard weirder things than “ow” during sex.’
‘And now what? We jump up and down on the bed?’ he asks.
‘Oh, good idea,’ I say. ‘Although let’s give it a bit – we don’t want them thinking you skip foreplay.’
Hades mutters something I don’t quite catch but I don’t think it’s complimentary.
I finally look at the room we’re standing in, and I’m surprised to find it full of colour and also, shockingly, flowers. My flowers.
Not that them being mine is a surprise. All flowers are mine.
But these are the blossoms I have grown in this realm, dried into frames and blooming in vases.
More scrolls line the walls, which seems excessive for a god with several libraries. The fabrics have been marbled with dyes to form rich patterns that soften the harsh stone walls. There are no canvases but he has painted the furniture, tiny details that I never would have noticed before I met him: swirls and ridges and patterns I’ve only seen in nature.
It’s like this room is the only part of the palace he has decorated to his tastes. No one else must venture here.
He’s no virgin, but I do wonder how long it’s been.
I pour Hades a drink while erratically moaning and at last he breaks into peals of laughter even as he shakes his head with despair. He finally joins in and we have to bury our faces into each other’s shoulders to stop our laughter being heard. Hades jumping up and down on the bed in his formal wedding robes is a moment I hope will never end. I don’t think I could be more entertained and then he starts shaking the headboard and I have to clap my hands to my mouth to stifle my laughter.
I manage to ignore the sobering fact that what we’re pretending would actually be happening if my father’s plans had come to fruition. I always thought sex was funny in an abstract way, terrifying if applied to reality. But this feels nothing more than giggling at the word ‘penis’ with the nymphs.
I glance at Hades. They think I’m having sex with him. What do they imagine is happening? Do they think he’s running his hands across my body? Or …
I can’t. I genuinely can’t imagine it. It’s like a block falls in my mind. I want him – in a way that feels almost tangible, in a way I never imagined I could. All those stories about waiting for marriage and only sleeping with your husband – it never felt a hard thing to do. I don’t think I ever really understood desire. Until now.
But it’s still too much to imagine more than his lips on mine, his hands on my waist, perhaps elsewhere … not clothes coming off, not skin against skin.
Finally we collapse on to his bed, our faces flushed from jumping on his mattress. I lie facing him, breathless, our heads propped on the pillows. Is this how we’d look at each other after?
I can’t imagine it, but maybe I’d like to. Maybe I’d like to discover it with him.
I suppose it doesn’t matter anyway, not when it will never happen.
We lie quiet until even the most suspicious gods must have returned to the party or else retired to a suite – most likely with others.
‘So we’re married,’ I say after what feels like forever.
‘I’d say the wedding went astonishingly well,’ Hades says. His ceiling is painted with gentle swirls of colour and we stare at it like they are the stars in the sky. ‘A room full of Greek gods and no one killed anyone? No one started an orgy? No one accused anyone of crimes or infidelities? It was almost boring.’
‘Ha, I think they knew nothing they did could be as dramatic as the marriage itself.’
‘I suppose there’s always tomorrow,’ Hades says.
Tomorrow is the last day of the wedding. And my coronation.
‘No one will upstage me on my special day,’ I joke. It seems ridiculous that I will be front and centre in a ceremony, receiving a crown. The only way I can get through it is to pretend I am some cruel villainess and this is all part of my evil plot to steal the throne.
Hades smiles as he turns to me. ‘No one could, no matter how hard they try.’
‘Careful, husband, that was almost nice,’ I say.
‘I meant that you are far more dramatic than they could ever hope to be.’
‘Precisely.’
‘“Dramatic” isn’t the compliment you seem to think it is.’
‘Then do feel free to shower me with others. It is my wedding night after all.’
Hades’ lazy smile fades. ‘I’m sorry this is what your wedding has become – a ruse for your safety.’
‘You know it’s better than anything else I had expected.’
‘I do know. But that shouldn’t have been what you expected. It should have been a happy celebration. It should have involved love and –’
‘Have you spent too much time tonight with Aphrodite, dear?’ I ask. I can’t bear the way he echoes my thoughts back at me. ‘You’re sounding awfully sentimental and it’s concerning.’
‘Indulge me a moment of sentimentality on a night like this,’ Hades says. His eyes meet mine and they’re warmer and happier than any that have ever looked at me. ‘Please.’
‘It’s your wedding too,’ I say quietly. ‘Your marriage. You deserve more than a ruse as well.’
‘Persephone, I’m happy,’ he says. ‘Truly. It would be an honour to spend eternity with you. Which is also more than I had ever expected from a marriage.’
I swallow, resisting every urge to close the distance between us.
Is this what eternity will be like? Hopelessly pining for a husband who has made it clear several times over that all he sees between us is friendship?
‘You know, you’re more than I ever expected and more than I ever hoped,’ I say instead. ‘Thank you, for all of this. It was the perfect day with the perfect person. The start to a perfect eternity.’
Hades wrinkles his nose. ‘Okay, you’re mocking me now, right?’
‘Yes … but I do sort of mean it too.’ I grin. ‘I’m just not very used to this. I love you, Hades. Not … not of the sort that might be expected within a marriage,’ I half lie because eros – that lustful love that Mother said should only be found in marriage – is all I can think about. ‘But I love you nonetheless. And that’s not something I’ve ever found easy.’
Whatever it is he’s feeling, he hides it well.
‘I love you too,’ he says but he’s addressing the ceiling. ‘Which is not something I’ve ever – well, you know.’
Of course I don’t know. But then, I sort of do. And, oh gods, sometimes I long for the forgetful waters of the Lethe just so I don’t have to think at moments like this.
‘Are you –’
‘You take the bed tonight,’ Hades says abruptly and whatever moment might have been forming between us shatters. ‘I’ll sleep on the floor.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I say. ‘This bed is nearly as big as Sicily.’
Hades laughs, a short, sharp exhale that takes him by surprise. ‘I think you might be exaggerating.’
‘You’re my husband and my friend,’ I say. ‘You’re sleeping in the bed with me.’
‘I truly don’t mind the floor. It’s far nicer than most places I slept during the war,’ he says.
‘“Better than the war” isn’t actually something most girls want to hear on their wedding day, darling,’ I say. ‘Get in the bed please.’
He pauses a moment before finally nodding. ‘Fine, but turn round while I change into my nightclothes.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes,’ he says and I can almost feel the heat rushing to his cheeks from here.
I do as he asks and pick the flowers from my hair while I wait, letting them fall into a neat pile on a nearby table. Finally he calls that he’s done.
‘I couldn’t ask the nymphs to bring you anything,’ Hades says. ‘It might have suggested that we weren’t planning on … you know. Most newlyweds don’t sleep in clothes on their wedding night. But you can borrow something of mine, if you like?’
I nod and he passes me a soft silk robe. I gesture for him to turn round and, even though I trust him completely not to look, my skin still races with goosebumps as I take my clothes off. I nearly break something trying to unbutton the dress myself but I don’t think I could cope if I asked for his help. Him peeling the buttons open one by one, his fingers brushing my spine …
I get the dress off and it feels ruinous, all that carefully crafted tulle and lace falling in a heap on the floor. I pick it up and fold it before I even reach for the robe to cover myself.
‘I’m done,’ I say and his face is impassive as he turns round from very determinedly staring at the ocean waves painted on his wardrobe. My heart is thumping erratically, like I had hoped he would not be able to keep his eyes from me, just like earlier at the altar.
If his pretence is capable of tricking my feelings, maybe mine can be too. So I do what I do best, what I have done for years around my mother: I plaster a smile I don’t mean across my face.
‘Well, then,’ I say, crawling on to the bed and pulling the blankets up when a shiver crosses my skin. ‘Tell me everything.’
‘What do you mean?’ he asks, standing still by the edge of the bed.
