Girl, Goddess, Queen, page 32
I take him outside. I have been thinking about the way Apollo strummed his lyre and vanished – he tied transport to his domain. Now, with the slightest bending of my will, flowers spring beneath my feet. And with their touch they pull me through their roots and push me out in another patch of flowers, just behind Hades. I tap his shoulder and he shrieks.
We’re both laughing too hard to catch our breath. He clutches his chest and tells me not to do that again without warning, which of course just makes me do it several more times when he’s not expecting it.
I appear and disappear at will until he predicts where I’ll go next. As I appear I see his arm coming towards me, ready to grab my outstretched hand, and I’m not sure what happens next. I overbalance and he catches me, arm round my waist, and in the lurch of me falling he pulls back and pulls me to him. Suddenly I’m flush against him, his hand at my waist, our laughter catching into a breathlessness that leaves us staring, mere inches from each other’s faces.
‘Thanks,’ I say. I think of our dance at our wedding, the way he was the only thing keeping me standing.
He seems lost for words and just stares at me with an odd expression. I feel that rush, the lust that shone when we first appeared to the court, the thing that jolts us apart as soon as we step away from a crowd in case it lingers. Is it possible he feels it too?
In the second before he lets go, I’m certain he’s going to kiss me.
So, when his fingers slip, I don’t think to catch myself. I stagger back, struggling to keep on my feet.
‘Of course,’ he says. The look on his face hasn’t changed. I’m wrong, I must be wrong, because it looks like longing. ‘I merely hope I may be there to catch you whenever you fall.’
He looks like he’s about to say something else too. The words are right there, almost tangible … and then he shakes his head. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I need to go talk to Styx.’
Which is a lie because Styx is on a date.
Which means he just wants to get away from me.
At court the following week, I sit perched on the edge of my throne discussing the changes the gods of the Underworld wish to be made to the realm, things that would make it a paradise for them as well as the humans.
The day has been stressful with the usual fires to put out – including an actual fire where the Phlegethon veered too close to a bank of my flowers. I get the feeling this is a form of relaxation for them all, idle fantasies of what they might enjoy.
‘I like the look of that mortal ocean,’ Acheron says. ‘We could make that work with my river if we – My king.’
He scrambles to bow as Hades enters, all dark smoke and sweeping robes, framed by the glow of the hearth. The dozen other gods in the room rush to their feet too, only to nod their heads as he passes.
‘Forgive me for interrupting,’ he says, his voice buttery smooth in that way it always is when he addresses the court. He’s overly formal and I sit up straight, something tingling in my spine. ‘But I’m afraid I must steal the queen away.’
I cast a panicked look at him but he offers a slight reassuring smile and then he’s before me, standing at the base of the plinth. He looks up at me and takes my hand, brushing his lips against the skin like a promise of more to come.
‘My love,’ he greets me. ‘If I might have a moment of your time.’
‘Of course,’ I say. I sweep from the hall before he can do anything more than say a couple of lines and kiss my hand. Apparently that’s all it takes for my heart to race.
The other gods coo as we leave, Hermes’ voice rather distinct in uttering that we might consider getting a room.
‘What is it?’ I ask the second we’re out. It’s no more than we’ve been doing the last few weeks but my pining has reached such atrocious levels that I regularly stay up half the night wondering if his actions might actually mean something, hoping they aren’t just for show.
He grins slyly. ‘I haven’t seen you in a while.’
‘I saw you this morning.’
‘You know what I mean. We haven’t spent any actual time together in a while. I had an excellent day today – found a bolt of fabric in the exact shade of cerulean I’ve been looking for. I decided if I had to steal my wife from the court in order for us to spend any sort of time together then that’s what I’d do.’
‘Fates, Hades, you could have simply asked,’ I say but I can’t shake the grin on my face. ‘Okay, I actually had something planned that I’ve been meaning to make time for too. Come with me.’
I take him to the roof of the palace, which is not easy as there’s no flat surface up there, no window that leads out to it, and he simply refuses to climb the swords, hidden as they are beneath the ivy. I make it grow thicker and we climb that instead, and after much grumbling we’re up.
‘This is eccentric even for you,’ he says.
‘Thank you.’
‘I’ll never be able to insult you without you taking it as a compliment, will I?’
‘Stop insulting me then,’ I say. ‘Come on, this will be worth it.’
I moved the painting days ago and planted it on a patch of flowers. With my new transport links, I can pull it straight through to the ivy next to me.
‘My painting is not the surprise you seem to think it is.’
‘Is this?’ I ask. I glance at it quickly but I’ve memorized the whole thing already and I look up to the sky.
I blast it full of stars.
Hades gasps. His hand is vice-like on my arm as he stares at the sky above us, dancing with designs he created. These are not the constellations my father made in the Earth’s sky, each one a tale of his conquests. These belong entirely to us and they sparkle in the pitch-dark sky.
I hear distant cheers, mortals or gods I’m not sure, but it’s nice to give something both can enjoy.
But I’m focused on Hades. Up on the roof he’s framed by the galaxies and he looks so very good in starlight. His eyes mirror the stars and, Fates, the way he looks in awe at the world and then, slowly, at me.
He opens his mouth as though to say something but he doesn’t, and just as I’m about to tease him for finally being speechless he leans forward and kisses me.
My brain short-circuits. I have to reach out and grab him for stability, have to find something to cling to because everything’s spinning and his lips on mine are everything I hoped they’d be and this is real, no audience, no crowd, just the two of us beneath the watching stars. My fists curl so tightly in his robes I can feel my nails pressing through. When I kiss him back he gasps and the sound unravels me.
His hands tangle in my hair. He catches my lip between his teeth and I moan, which only makes him pull me closer. My own hands are searching now, finally reaching round his neck, my fingers tickling the short hair there, and it’s not just his lips any more but his whole body pressed against mine and how does anyone do this and remember to keep breathing?
It’s so easy, the way our lips move. A thousand fake kisses in front of a watching court and not a single one like this – not a kiss that feels like everything, a kiss that feels like I am alight.
A hand moves to my waist and now it’s my turn to bite down on his lip, and his fingers curl into my side, holding me close like there is any way for us to be closer.
I break away, move my lips to his neck. I have no idea what I’m doing but something takes over. All I know is I want to kiss him there, to bite at his pulse or run a trail of kisses along his collarbone.
But then.
‘Stop,’ he suddenly gasps. ‘Stop.’
I pull back immediately, but his hands are still holding me in place like he doesn’t want me to move away at all.
I trail my fingers along the tips of his hair, the short, wiry curls tickling, and it’s all I can do not to cup the back of his head and draw him back to me. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘We shouldn’t do this.’
‘Why not? It’s fun.’ Oh, it’s so much more than that.
He laughs but it’s short. He’s as out of breath as I am.
‘I won’t pretend I haven’t thought about this a dozen times.’ He takes my hand and kisses my wrist, which is somehow a thousand times more intimate than the hand itself, but then he drops it and stares at it like he hadn’t even thought about doing that. Now he is pulling away from me, like if he can’t get distance he doesn’t know what will happen. ‘I can’t do this, Persephone. It’s all I want, believe me. But I can’t kiss you like that then go back to our chaste, practised kisses for the court.’
Wait, why would we go back to that? I run my fingers through my hair, the tangles he has made of it. Why would we ever stop doing this?
‘I can’t – I … I think we’re both aware that there’s this … desire between us,’ he continues and, by the Fates, his pupils are blown wide, even as they glance away from me. ‘It’s been an issue from the moment we started this public performance. But it’s been worse recently. I’ve been struggling with touching you in public and then forcing myself not to want to touch you in private. I can’t kiss you in both – one in faked love and one in mere lust. It’s too much.’
Faked love.
My heart skips a beat. Of course, this isn’t … this isn’t a declaration of love but of desire. Eros not philia.
I nod. ‘You’re right. This is too complicated.’
Because I don’t think I can kiss him like that again knowing he does not love me the way that I love him.
Because I do.
Of course I do.
And right now that love is a knife and it’s cutting me – I’m shattering from the inside out.
Hades smiles sadly. ‘I’m sure we’ve made a mess of things already.’
‘We’ve handled worse messes.’ My throat is tight. I need to go. I can’t … be around him right now.
‘It sounds like there’s a party down there. Your stars might be a new annual festival. We could go?’
‘Actually that, um, the stars kind of exhausted me. I’m going to go rest but you should go.’
The ivy swallows me before he can reply, before he can see my tears and add embarrassment to this pain.
I knew better than to fall in love with him and I did it anyway.
I have no one but myself to blame.
MY COURT ARE EXHAUSTED THE next morning, having thrown quite the star-celebration party, which is a shame because I want nothing more than to throw myself into the drama of their squabbles. I certainly don’t want to think about last night.
‘How is Hades this morning?’ Charon grins and I startle.
‘What? Fine. Why?’ I haven’t seen him this morning, though to be fair I have been actively avoiding anywhere he might be.
‘Last I saw he was throwing up in the river Styx.’
‘Which explains why Styx was screaming at him while half carrying him back to the palace,’ Nyx adds.
‘I’m sure he wasn’t the only member of the court in such a state.’
‘Yes, but it’s always a rare and delightful sight to see the king like that,’ Hypnus says.
‘Well, I think we’ll call it there for today, given we’ve all veered off topic anyway,’ I declare.
‘Probably for the best.’ Charon winces. ‘When I went to the shore after yesterday’s meeting there were four hundred souls waiting. I couldn’t have been gone an hour.’
The other gods begin grumbling with their own complaints.
‘And this is normal?’ I ask.
‘Well,’ Thanatos says, casting a look around the room, ‘this is consistently higher numbers of fatalities than I’ve ever seen.’
There are murmured nods of agreement.
‘All right, thank you,’ I say, dismissing them. We can’t keep going on like this. Which means I need to speak to my husband – and, after last night, that’s the last thing I want to do.
I find Hades in the library, clutching a cup of nectar and looking dreadful. His eyes are bloodshot, his himation is crooked, and he is hunched over a scroll like he’s using his body to shield it from the light.
‘Well, I hope it wasn’t kissing me that made you throw up last night.’
He laughs but it’s strained. ‘You heard about that?’
‘Oh yes, you’ve thoroughly entertained every god in the realm.’
He groans.
This is good. This teasing is familiar territory. If we can do this enough, we can move past it, surely?
‘I don’t normally drink that much, I assure you.’
‘I’m aware,’ I say. ‘Are you … okay?’
‘Persephone …’ He doesn’t finish that sentence, just begins shaking his head. ‘I’m so sorry about last night,’ he finally manages.
There’s a lump in my throat. ‘Don’t be. You’re a perfectly adequate kisser.’
For a moment he seems offended but then he laughs. ‘You don’t hate me then, I assume?’
‘No, I’m long past that.’
‘I didn’t take advantage of you?’
‘I was kissing you back – you do remember that?’
‘I don’t remember much of last night but, yes, that I remember.’ He rubs his temples. ‘I’m glad everything is fine between us.’
‘Yeah, all fine.’ A little strained, maybe, but I can pretend. It’s the one thing I can consistently rely upon. ‘But the court isn’t. Whatever has the humans dying in droves isn’t abating.’
His embarrassment vanishes, replaced by academic curiosity, and I’m reminded of how captivating I used to find that look, fascinated by his fascination, when we first started spending so much time in the library together.
‘Oh? Do we have any idea what’s causing it?’
‘None. What should we do?’ I ask, unashamed to admit I’m out of my depth. New-found powers won’t give me the knowledge about this realm that Hades has accumulated through time and research.
‘Well.’ He considers for a moment. ‘We need to find out what’s happening, and why, if we wish to pressure the other courts into doing something about it. I imagine Hermes is too busy to investigate, with the chaos of the influx of souls.’
I nod.
He takes a breath, then looks at me with an expression that says I’m not going to like what he’s about to suggest. ‘Then do you recall my story of the war?’
I’m taken aback. ‘Yes, of course.’
‘The helm of darkness, me being sent into spy …’
‘No,’ I say quickly. ‘You can’t go to the surface.’
‘Why?’
And why can’t he? Is it that I don’t want him to leave me here alone? Or that, wherever he goes, I want to be by his side – though I can’t, for the same reason Hermes can’t. Leaving the court now would only make things worse.
But, outside of this realm, something might happen to him.
And perhaps he realizes this is my primary concern, because he offers a reassuring smile.
‘Persephone means chaos bringer,’ he says. ‘Do you know what Hades means?’
‘No, I’m not sure that I do.’
‘The unseen one,’ he says, twisting illusory smoke round his hand until the whole thing vanishes. ‘I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.’
‘I’ll miss you,’ I admit and he stares for a moment, his demeanour shifting. He straightens up like he’s resisting whatever it is he’s feeling. And then his shoulders fall, like he’s giving into it.
‘Persephone, I am sure you will be perfectly fine without me.’
I’M SO BUSY RUNNING THE court and adding Hades’ tasks to my own that I don’t have time to linger on his absence. It’s just something at the back of my mind, something that aches when I pay attention to it, and, when I don’t, feels like a shadow following me around.
A few days later, a nymph appears at my side – Hades convinced me that sending all the storm nymphs back to Earth at once wouldn’t be a great thing for the living mortals. But I am determined to source some automatons from Olympus so the nymphs don’t have to keep acting as servants.
‘Hades is here,’ she says.
I nearly bowl her over as I run towards the palace’s front doors.
Hades must have only just entered. He looks tired, helm clutched under one arm, robes dusty. I’m so impossibly happy that I practically throw myself at him, slinging my arms round his neck so tightly my feet lift off the ground.
He chuckles, clearly delighted.
‘I missed you too,’ he says.
‘Stop reminding the rest of us how single we are!’ Styx yells from a doorway where a group of court members hover, watching us.
‘Not for lack of trying, apparently,’ Hades says pointedly, which succeeds in something I thought impossible – a purplish blush spreads across Styx’s cheeks.
Lower, so the others don’t hear, he says, ‘We need to talk somewhere private.’
My heart plummets.
We shuffle off to our favoured library, fireplace already roaring.
He sits down heavily.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask, resisting the urge to sit on the arm of his chair, to massage his weary-looking shoulders. ‘You seem exhausted.’
‘I am,’ he admits. ‘I crossed a great deal of Asia Minor. I’ve never seen anything like this. Wars happen on individual islands. Plagues spread in cities. This is everywhere.’ He looks to me, lips pressed firmly in a reluctant scowl. ‘Persephone, there’s no easy way to say this. In every land, every nation I visited, there’s famine. It’s your –’
‘Mother,’ we say together – his a fact, mine a dreaded whisper.
I practically fall into the chair opposite him.
I’m torn – perversely touched that she would go to such lengths, but terrified of what her next move might be and worried about how she must be feeling to do all this. Above all, there is the dawning realization that I must do what I’ve been putting off for so long: talk to my mother.
I draw my arms tightly across my chest like I might be able to hold myself together.
‘Persephone …’ Hades trails off and I wonder if maybe I’m not the only one struggling with not knowing how to comfort without overstepping.
