Girl, Goddess, Queen, page 6
In my explorations, I find a somewhat dusty study and wonder which god of the court normally occupies it. The shelves are mostly empty – a few lingering documents detail the number of souls entering the Underworld on any given day. The ceiling is low and the candles lining the walls make it feel close. In a desk drawer I find an old petteia board and sit playing, spinning the board round to become my own opponent.
Dinner must be soon – I should go back to my room and attempt to run a comb through my hair, though I’m sure I’ll fail quite miserably. Cyane always insists on doing my hair, holding it at the roots so she can tug the knots out without hurting me. She’ll know I’m missing by now. She might even have found a way to get a message to Olympus. My mother might –
The door behind me opens with such force it slams into the wall. I turn to see the air shimmer and solidify as often happens with wind nymphs, but I’m still waiting for her to fully appear when I realize the process is complete. Nymphs look human until they sink into the nature their spirit connects to – but this woman is translucent, tinted grey with wild, frizzy hair and a dress that clings like mist.
‘Hades has requested your – what was it he said – “grating company” at dinner,’ she says, her voice straining, like finding the air to speak is a struggle.
‘I’ll be down,’ I say. ‘Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.’
The woman glares, apparently incredibly irked to be in conversation with me. ‘Tempest.’
I’d offer mine but it feels especially wrong down here – a name for a naive child, not a woman so attuned to the world’s horrors she ran whole realms to escape them. ‘And you’re, what, Hades’ servant?’
‘If you like.’
‘And you’re a wind nymph?’
She folds her arms across her chest. ‘Yes. Do you have any other inane questions? Perhaps you’d like to know if Hades is king or if you’re an unwanted interloper in this land?’
I think I should be hurt but I can’t help it, I laugh. I’ve never met a hostile nymph before. They’re nature spirits and most are so many years old their moods take seasons to change. Tempest lifts her chin and watches me through careful eyes.
‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘But you’re a wind nymph in the Underworld? How did that happen?’ Nymphs don’t have immortal souls. They fade and reform, a constant cycle.
‘I’m a storm nymph.’
‘Ah – and storms die out?’ I guess.
‘Dying is how most of us end up in the Underworld,’ she says bluntly. ‘I’ll be a breeze again in a few years. It would be longer but Hades offers us a deal: serve him for our time here and he’ll make that time considerably shorter.’
A wave of repulsion washes over me. ‘Serve him as in …’
‘As in tell spoilt goddesses to get to dinner.’
I don’t know if she’s being obtuse or if she doesn’t understand. I never thought I would have to explain innuendo to a nymph.
Frustrated with my silence, she throws her head back and answers what I’m really asking. ‘Urgh, no. Serve him in domestic tasks only. I don’t know if he’s not interested, we’re not his gender of choice, or half-corporeal nature spirits just don’t do it for him but, as far as I’m aware, that’s never been part of the deal.’
I nod but my mind is whirring again and I have to remind myself that if Hades was going to press that advantage with me he’d have done it already.
‘Are you done with your interrogation now?’ Tempest demands.
‘Most servants don’t speak like this to guests,’ I muse, though it’s clear I’m not bothered.
‘Hades makes no demands on our bodies and none on decorum either.’
‘Really?’ I ask, unable to keep the surprise from my voice.
She shrugs. ‘He says he doesn’t care for false platitudes or anyone debasing themselves for his benefit.’
That is definitely odd. The other kings – Poseidon and my father – love nothing more than people debasing themselves. They raise themselves up by forcing others down. Why wouldn’t Hades do that?
‘Well, that is something,’ I say, finding myself smiling.
‘I’m glad you’re pleased.’
I shouldn’t be. Seeing Hades in any kind of positive light could be ruinous so I clutch at what I can show disdain for. ‘So you serve him for the sake of spending fewer years down here?’
Tempest doesn’t only glower, her whole being turns a darker shade of grey. ‘A year in this place feels like an eternity. It can take centuries to cycle through to a gale again. I agreed to enter his service when I could stand it no longer.’
‘And Hades is so kind that he allows you the honour of serving him in exchange for shortening that pain?’
‘It’s not like that,’ she protests. ‘His magic is an exchange. It needs a sacrifice on my behalf to work.’
‘Whoever told you that could have been lying,’ I say. ‘Was it him?’
Tempest’s lips part but she says nothing, as though the thought had never occurred to her.
‘It was, actually,’ Hades says, appearing at the door frame. He seems impossibly at ease, eyebrow quirked and challenging. I run my eyes over him looking for signs of Mother’s rare, icy kind of anger. I prepare for whatever hell he might have planned for someone who says treacherous things about him in his own halls. How long has he been there? How much has he heard?
‘I thought I’d come see what was taking so long,’ he continues, tendrils of dark smoke clawing along his shoulders and rippling down his arms. ‘And I find you interrogating my servants. Tell me, have you discovered anything interesting?’
He doesn’t seem angry, but he does sound pleased to catch me out, ready to wheedle apologies out of me not because he’s offended but because it amuses him to do so.
‘I was simply curious about the existence of aurai in the Underworld,’ I say, trying not to show my unease. ‘I meant no offence.’
‘Really? So what was it you were trying to ask?’
‘Can I leave?’ Tempest interrupts, glancing between us.
Hades nods. ‘Of course.’ His voice softens as he speaks to her, the edge that always seems present when he talks to me vanishing.
She disappears, fading into the very air, and Hades turns back to me. ‘You’re quite right – if I were lying, it would be a brilliant fabrication. But it’s the truth. You cannot create something from nothing.’
I think of every single flower I have popped into creation. Of course you can create something from nothing. I’d argue it’s the main hallmark of the gods.
But he seems to be enjoying himself, correcting my assumptions, or perhaps he thinks he has me convinced that he is not manipulating the nymphs with his lies.
‘Of course, Hades.’ I nod in what I hope is a respectful fashion. ‘My apologies for the misunderstanding.’
‘I see. I suppose forgiving misunderstandings falls under xenia, though I wonder what the bond of hospitality has to say about accusing your host of something so uncouth,’ he challenges.
‘I’m sure xenia was designed precisely because of such accusations,’ I say. ‘I can think of no one more in need of protection than a host hearing cruel barbs.’
For a moment he seems lost for words and I rise before he can find them. ‘Did Tempest say dinner was ready? I’ll just go wash up and join you there.’
Hades hesitates before stepping aside to let me pass. ‘Yes, well, do hurry. It’s bad enough being forced to dine with you. I’d hate to make it worse by letting the food grow cold.’
‘Of course,’ I say, allowing myself to grimace now that he’s safely behind me. ‘What greater struggle could one face than lukewarm vegetables?’
If I didn’t know better, I’d say his huff of annoyance sounds almost like laughter.
HADES IS ALREADY SITTING AT the table when I finally arrive. I half expect him to start up our earlier argument but he barely glances up as I enter. He’s once again focused on a sheaf of paper and his plate is already depleted.
If I’d started eating before Mother sat down she would have been furious. I can’t believe you, Kore. How gluttinous, how greedy. A good woman always makes sure everyone is fed before herself. You’ll understand when you’re a mother – then you’ll put everyone else first. Just like I do for you.
My hand tightens on the door frame. There are multiple places set and I don’t know where to sit. For so much of my life it has been just Mother and me. It makes sense that I think of her so often. But every time I do it jars because I know how angry she will be when she finds out I’m gone. My throat constricts. I can’t believe I did this.
‘Don’t eat the bread. The wheat was grown here,’ Hades drawls. He sounds distant, his voice echoing in the background of my deafening thoughts.
I have no idea how she will react. Not knowing is almost worse. I have never, ever done something like this before.
Gods, I can’t believe I did this.
I think I’m more afraid of Mother finding out than Father. He’ll punish me but he would have done that anyway, for far lesser infringements. Mother, on the other hand, might never forgive me. She’s lived her whole life for me and I’ve betrayed her. I’m the worst sort of daughter, the worst sort of person, and I’ll never be able to make this up to her, to earn her forgiveness and her love –
‘Are you quite all right?’ Hades asks, watching me carefully but less with concern and more with judgement.
‘Where?’ I ask, stepping forward quickly.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Where was the wheat grown? I went outside earlier and could barely feel a whisper of any living thing.’ I take the seat next to him. The moment I do, I think that maybe all of these place settings were meant as a test. I’d interpret my choice as a powerful one, saying that I’m not scared of him. But I wonder how he’ll interpret it.
‘Away from here,’ he says after a moment, clearly deciding not to press whatever it was he thought he’d picked up on. ‘I told you not to go outside.’
I pile my plate with everything that’s not bread but the baked rolls are the only thing I can smell. My throat feels choked and the shining fruit on my plate looks fake. ‘No, you told me you couldn’t protect me outside. I took my chances.’
‘You –’
‘How does the rest of the food get here?’
‘What?’ He scowls, apparently thrown by my refusal to drop the topic. ‘I don’t know. I delegate it. Hermes sorts that sort of thing. I suppose I’ll still have to ask him to do it while court is adjourned. Funny, isn’t it, how your request for hospitality is draining me of it?’
‘Who grows the wheat down here?’ I press. I dip a carrot into the garlicky yogurt and pay no heed to his insults. I find myself strangely fascinated by the machinations of his court and all its moving parts. Father always claimed running a realm was hard and tiresome work but it seems straightforward enough to me, especially if asking someone to order food is the most taxing problem. ‘I wasn’t aware there was an Underworld god of wheat farming. When court is summoned does he sit beside the god of nightmares and the ferryman of the dead?’
‘There are several farming gods, actually,’ he says curtly. ‘They oversee the humans who grow the food.’
‘The dead humans?’
‘Would you expect any other type to be found down here?’
‘I’m not sure any more, not after the aurai,’ I say matter-of-factly. ‘And I’m not sure the idea of live human farmers in the Underworld is any stranger than dead human farmers.’
Hades shrugs. ‘The dead forget who they are. For some that means becoming fixed on routine. Farming is what they did when they were alive so it becomes what they do in death.’
I swallow a mouthful of chickpeas. ‘Doing in death as was done in life? That’s depressing.’
‘I’m not sure why that’s a surprise. I never intended the world of the dead to be advertised as the tourist destination it’s evidently become,’ Hades says pointedly and I surprise us both by laughing.
I quell it quickly but Hades has a strange way of ignoring me that makes me feel watched. His eyes are on his paper again but I still feel like he’s studying me.
I’m normally so careful, so assured in my performance that I don’t even realize I’m doing it. Back straight, eyes down, demure smile and I am an idle decoration, a pleasant painting brightening a room. But I can’t make my mind empty when it’s still grappling with the surging panic brought on by my earlier thoughts of my mother and, without all the pretence, I feel raw and exposed and, gods, I’m running from her but I miss her. I want her hands on my hair as she tells me how beautiful I am, how proud I will make her. Or more specifically I want that feeling, the warmth that comes with her smiles, her compliments, her approval. The joy of doing everything I should be doing. The feeling that makes me forget the free-falling crush of letting her down.
The tight knot in my stomach reminds me that I shouldn’t be here. She wouldn’t want this.
‘How far are the humans?’ I ask, searching for anything to keep me from my spinning emotions.
‘Why? Do you have more flowers to plant?’ Hades retorts without tearing his eyes from his papers.
‘You saw?’ I ask over my cup of wine. Internally my smile is more of a smirk, but he sees the excited, giddy one I use with the nymphs when I’m feeling low so that they don’t ask me what’s wrong. ‘Did you like them?’
‘They’re certainly something. Was that a new one by the Styx? How very bored you must be.’
It’s about as much of an answer as I was hoping for.
‘I felt bad about getting your attention by destroying the asphodel. I really did mean for it to honour you.’ I take a careful sip of wine because the sentimentality, even if fake, is literally difficult to swallow.
‘I’m touched.’
I’m impressed – I don’t think even I could manage words that dry.
‘But, no, I was thinking of visiting the humans tomorrow,’ I say bluntly. I have no issue with sneaking around, but I want to know how he will react to something verging on my real interests.
He looks up from the paper with mild interest. ‘Well, I certainly don’t recommend that. As I say, you’re safe only within these walls.’
‘I’m happy to take the risk.’
‘The humans aren’t the only thing you have to worry about.’
I think of the winged creature I saw earlier. ‘I know.’
Hades picks at his food and I realize I’ve never really seen him eat, just pick distractedly in the same way he talks to me.
‘You do not need to know where they are.’
‘Are you forbidding me? Is that it?’ I ask assertively but not so aggressively that he will get angry in return.
‘I’d say I’m not your mother and have no interest nor right to forbid you to do anything, but that wouldn’t really hold much weight, given you’re disobeying her right now.’
My face is blank but my muscles are tense.
He continues, ‘Unless, of course, you’re here for something else entirely.’
‘What are you talking about?’
He gives me a long look, then shrugs. ‘Perhaps it doesn’t matter. You’re here now.’
‘I’m here because I don’t want to get married.’ I’m unable to keep my anger from my voice, unable to rein myself in. ‘I thought I made that perfectly clear the first hundred times I said it.’
‘Of course.’ It’s obvious he doesn’t believe me at all. ‘But it’s no matter. Seeing your flowers made me realize how bored you must be without your mother to entertain you.’ My breath hitches. ‘You have no need to visit the dead for entertainment. I believe entertaining guests falls within xenia.’
What?
‘That’s not necessary,’ I rush.
‘Nonsense, of course it is. Are you done with your food? I shall give you a tour of the halls.’
I am nowhere near done with my food and I have my own map of the halls. But something about my twisting stomach makes saying no impossible.
‘Very well.’ I stand.
Hades stands too, and I am reminded of how tall he is. Height isn’t something I’ve ever considered before. I have no idea if he is tall or short in relation to other gods. The nymphs all hover around five feet, and Mother and I are seven inches taller than that. Hades is a head taller than me but, oddly, it doesn’t make me feel intimidated. His venom has never been threatening, just irritating …
Although that could change in a second.
The way his chiton and himation drape round him hints at muscles like those I remember of the statues on Olympus; finely chiselled shadows that are almost more revealing than nakedness would be. I’d have to be quick with a weapon if he chose to attack. Hestia would have to be quicker still with xenia’s curse.
Our footsteps echo in the enormous empty palace and my mouth feels dry. I find myself thinking about what Tempest said, about where Hades’ interests lie. I suppose I can recognize his objective appeal, and not just because he’s the ruler of a kingdom. I eye his tunic again and the artful draping of the cloak on top. Whenever the nymphs mentioned men’s clothing, it was to explain how to strip it off and now I find myself blushing. I never dared fantasize along with the nymphs – but I reluctantly admit I can see what they would like about Hades. They were always going on about muscles and strong jawlines and everything else he has in spades.
If my parents hadn’t wanted to keep me a part of the Olympian court, Hades might have been part of the line-up for my hand in marriage. He’s my age, he’s a king … he’s a far more appropriate choice than most of the Olympians, though just as unpleasant a thought.
‘Did you know my mother well?’ I ask, without thinking, or rather having thought too much.
‘Outside of sharing the same stomach, you mean?’ Hades replies.
‘I …’ I have no idea how to respond to that. Being a deity, I’m used to a lot of weird things but a power-hungry Titan eating babies he’s scared will grow up to destroy him has always been a tale I’ve struggled to come to terms with. Especially the way it was presented: Oh yes, Kore, I’m such a monster for making you work on your embroidery. Real monsters eat babies. I would kill for the life you have. When your low point is being swallowed, it’s pretty easy to make anyone grateful for almost anything.
