Girl, Goddess, Queen, page 7
Hades smiles. ‘I joke. It is not as though any of us can remember that.’
Hades is joking now? I glance at him warily, trying not to be too obvious about it. What’s he up to? Where is he leading me?
‘Demeter was a woman grown long before the hold time had on me faded, and she was already on your little island with you before I was old enough to form memories. She’d visit sometimes, though – come to the training camps to lecture us about the war. All the gods who fought would. They’d tell us of the glories of battle, the importance of it all.’
‘Father said the war ended years ago, when we were still children.’
‘Zeus says a lot of things.’
I nod, thinking of those swords. That Hades fought in the war feels an undeniable fact, but it’s at odds with everything I was taught and all the tales I’ve heard. How could the gods of Olympus be running about terrorizing mortals when the war was still raging? How could I have been complaining about lyre recitals and dance routines when people were dying on sword points across the ocean?
‘Why would he say the war was over when it wasn’t?’ I ask. I do not want to admit the gaps in my knowledge but I need to know. I wonder what else my father has lied about.
‘What does Zeus love more than instant gratification?’ Hades scoffs. ‘I hear he was incredibly confident when he challenged Kronos for the throne. He thought the war would be won in moments. Zeus grew weary of fighting after mere weeks and, between time unfreezing us, his own rampant promiscuity and the gods’ ability to burst free from anything – their own heads included – Zeus finally had enough bodies to fight for him. Isn’t that what real power is – getting others to do your dirty work for you? But then he couldn’t step back, could he? Victory had to be his. He couldn’t let someone else win for him. No, much better to declare the war won, start dividing up the spoils and when the rest of us are dying on a battlefield in a war that’s supposed to be over he can sip wine on Olympus and call it a little uprising – nothing to worry about.’
‘But that’s so …’ Cowardly? But then Father bullied me for years because I dared speak out of turn – it’s hardly a surprise he keeps his power with tricks and cruelty. ‘It’s over now, right?’
‘Yes,’ Hades says darkly. He seems tense and he’s not looking at me any more. He’s staring into the distance.
‘You won it,’ I realize. ‘That story about you and the uprising … it wasn’t an uprising at all. You summoned an army of the dead and the Titans surrendered.’
‘I ended the war; Zeus won it. After all, he freed me from Kronos, he put me in the training camp that raised me to fight, he gave me my powers over the Underworld. I’d be nothing without him.’
‘You can’t really believe that.’
Hades turns suddenly, eyes piercing. ‘Whether I believe that or not is beside the point. It’s the line you’ll feed back to your father when you finally return to him.’
I flinch like he’s slapped me, my questions knocked out along with everything else.
‘I think that’s quite enough talk of that,’ he sneers, picking up his pace as we walk the hallways. ‘I wouldn’t want to abuse your delicate sensibilities with further discussion of so unladylike a topic.’
My jaw clenches in my efforts to keep my mouth shut and I can feel my eyes burning with deistic rage. If he were mortal and not another god he would be cinders right now.
‘Anyway, I called in some favours,’ he says, pushing open a door. I was in this room earlier. It was empty then. ‘You must have been too shy to ask the aurai but, no matter, it’s arranged now.’
I blink at the loom and my fingers twitch in protest. They are pained enough after sewing all night.
‘I hear you are quite the accomplished weaver.’ He turns and a smile plays on the corners of his lips. I would like to tear it off with my needle-damaged hands. ‘And if that does not suit you there is an art room across the hall, and a music room with a lyre down there.’ He points each door out. ‘I assume my library won’t interest you so I had some poetry delivered through here. In short, there is much that ought to occupy you and save you from the need to venture into the rest of the realm.’
I swallow the acidic response that springs to my tongue and instead hiss, ‘How lucky I am to have found xenia with a man who would go to such lengths to provide such tailored entertainment.’
He grins, his joy rising with every glare I throw his way. ‘While you were freshening up for dinner, I asked the nymphs if they would accompany you from now on. You seem to have much to say to them, after all. They’ll stay in their wind forms until you want them but, don’t worry, they’ll be at every door to make sure you are never without anything you need.’
I was raised on an island, alone, in the middle of the Mediterranean. I know a trap when I hear it. And this is a trick right out of Mother’s book – nymphs to spy on me and report back.
Why? Punishment for the flowers? Or for being here at all? Maybe he just doesn’t like a girl doing as she pleases.
‘I shall leave you to enjoy it.’ Hades waves a hand in farewell before turning down the hall.
I stare at the open doors and step away, back towards my room, to prepare for tomorrow.
Because if Hades doesn’t want me venturing into his realm, then that’s exactly where I’ll go. And he can get a thousand nymphs to spy on me if he likes – I’m not making this a secret. I’ll strut out of those doors right in front of him, middle finger raised. The only thing he’s managed is to make me hate him as much as he apparently hates me.
So perhaps I ought to add doing something about him to my plans for this last week of freedom.
HADES ISN’T AT BREAKFAST THE next morning. For a moment, I revel in the relief of being alone, of a meal where I don’t have to bite my tongue more than I actually speak. But then I remember the nymphs are watching me now, and I find I can’t look away from the doors as I try to catch dust in the air, light refracting in strange ways – anything to indicate the presence of a watcher.
Finally, I give up. ‘Can you at least join me at the table?’ I ask. ‘It would be less weird than you hovering.’
Tempest shimmers into existence with a shrug and, despite being incorporeal, manages to throw herself heavily into a chair. She says nothing but watches me with a growing frown.
‘What is it?’ I ask.
‘Hmm?’
‘You keep looking at me.’
‘Just trying to figure you out, I suppose. You seem pretty straightforward to me. I’m not sure why Hades is so puzzled by you.’
‘Puzzled’ feels too soft for the vitriol I’ve felt from him. But I doubt Tempest will be inclined to shed light on what she means, so I ignore her stares and focus on pooling honey in sticky waves on to the yogurt before me.
‘I should tell you that I plan on going outside the moment I’ve finished here,’ I say.
Tempest simply shrugs again. ‘Hades told us to tell him what you did, not stop you doing it.’
‘And did he tell you to tell me that?’
She blinks. ‘No, but I really don’t care enough about any of this –’ she waves at me – ‘to be all that bothered.’
After breakfast, Tempest disappears back into a mist, though I’m sure she’s with me still, and I start towards the main palace doors. Which is when I hear the shouting.
‘I’m not leaving here until you tell me where she is!’ It’s a high-pitched voice with something gravelly beneath it, like silt on a river bed. I don’t think it’s a nymph.
‘I will not repeat myself,’ Hades says. He’s not shouting but the walls are shaking again and I imagine, wherever he is, that aura of darkness is stronger than ever.
‘You’re lying to me. To me, of all people! You absolute –’
‘I would be careful how you speak to your king.’
‘I’m not one of your other subjects, Hades. I’m your secret keeper. Lie to me again. I dare you.’
‘You of all people should know I’m not lying when I say that I took nobody.’
‘I know what I saw,’ the stranger insists.
‘And you really think so little of me that you believe I would kidnap a woman?’
‘Maybe the other kings finally got to you. Maybe I should gather the other members of the court and see what they think.’
No. I can’t have more people knowing where I am.
I rush out and the woman Hades is arguing with turns at the movement. She doesn’t look much older than me – all big, round eyes and long black hair that’s damp and plastered to her corpse-pale skin.
She immediately pushes past Hades to grasp my shoulders in her clammy hands. Her dark eyes race across my face and her concern reminds me so much of Cyane that a lump forms in my throat.
‘Are you okay? Has he hurt you?’ she asks urgently.
‘Rivers of Hell, you know me better than that,’ Hades huffs.
‘No, no, I’m fine,’ I stutter, panic surging. ‘Please don’t tell anyone I’m here.’
The woman blinks.
She turns from me to Hades, who holds his hands open like he has no idea how to explain this.
‘Kore,’ she says after a moment, ‘you and I are going to take a walk.’ She points an accusatory finger at Hades. ‘And I’ll talk to you about this later.’
Hades nods, glancing between us like he’s not sure whether he should be concerned at what I might say or pleased that I’ve saved him from her wrath. ‘Tempest,’ he finally calls. ‘Would you stay here, please? Let them talk privately.’
‘You’ve got aurai tailing her?’ The woman gapes at him. ‘All right, we’re definitely having words later. Come on, Kore.’
Outside, I have to rush to catch up with her. She’s not much taller than me but she’s slight and spindly. Her long hair and legs make her look stretched and I have to half-run to match her stride.
‘I’m Styx. The river,’ she says, which explains her general demeanour of having been dredged up from the bottom of a swamp. ‘You made flowers for me. That’s how I knew you were here. You’re Kore, right? Hence the flowers?’
I nod, dejected. Is she … Is this it? Am I going to be shipped off home at any moment?
‘Hades adjourned court and he’s never done that before, so I thought it was to … to …’ She seems confused, blinking rapidly and shaking her head.
‘To hold me captive without anyone stumbling across me?’
‘Yes. But that’s not the case? You want to be here?’ I can see her struggling to rewrite the narrative she’d assumed.
I suppose it’s nice to know that if Hades had kidnapped me, this woman would have fought her own king for me.
‘I asked him to help me. I couldn’t think where else to go. My mother and father want me to marry, and I … well, I won’t do it.’
‘Marry who?’
‘I don’t know yet,’ I say. ‘It’s just … it’s not what I want. I want to see the world and meet people and learn and … It doesn’t matter.’
‘Of course it matters.’
I shake my head. ‘All that matters is what I don’t want – and that’s home and hearth. I don’t want to be locked up in a house and then … I mean, I don’t even know if I ever want children, let alone right now. And aside from my father I hadn’t even met a man before Hades. Well, there were some at my amphidromia, but I barely remember them, and Mother expects me to … and … Father just wants to control … I just …’
It’s all coming out of me quicker than I can make sense of it. But it’s difficult to put words to the deep-rooted feeling in my gut that has me struggling for air when I think of my future.
And I don’t know why but I don’t want Styx thinking Hades took me. He might be an irritating, obnoxious arse but he isn’t the sort of monster I was raised to fear. He didn’t drag me here, hasn’t blackmailed me, hasn’t hurt me. Forced looms and spying nymphs aren’t the sorts of things that make it into the stories Mother tells. They’re actions that deserve spiteful flowers and thinly veiled insults, not your subjects believing you kidnapped someone.
‘Gods, this is a mess,’ she says, pushing her hair back from her face. It’s so damp it sticks into shape. ‘So you ran here because Zeus is making you marry someone? And Hades is … protecting you?’
I nod. ‘He doesn’t want to but I bound him by xenia.’
‘Smart,’ she says. ‘But you can trust him.’
‘You were the one screaming at him two minutes ago. Clearly you think he’s capable of some terrible things.’
‘I’m the goddess of hate.’ She shrugs. ‘I can get carried away. Xenia forces him to give you a roof to stay under, not keep your presence secret. He’s doing that of his own volition.’
‘And the nymphs he’s got following me?’
‘Hades can be paranoid. For good reason – you should hear some of the things the other gods swear on my waters.’
As we walk, I see the asphodel has spread even further, and the Underworld’s acidic smell is replaced with the fresh floral scents of so many flowers that I don’t even notice we’re near her river until I see styx blossoms running along the banks like foam on a wave’s edge.
‘How long have you been here?’ she asks.
‘A couple of days.’
‘Fates, that’s what I was afraid of.’ She sighs. ‘Not long at all. If I’ve found out already then soon other gods will too. I’m the oath keeper – that’s why people swear on my waters. But the others won’t keep things secret like I will. They are loyal to Hades but if they think it will win favour with Zeus …’
‘I know,’ I say softly. Hades and Poseidon might rule courts but Zeus is king of the gods. He claims they’re all equal but it’s a lie everyone pretends to believe because no one can bear another war. My father has the most power here. ‘I’m trying to figure out what happens after. I just need some time.’
She nods. ‘All right, I’ll have a think. But if this is all the time you have … make the most of it.’
I nod. ‘I am. Or, at least, I’m trying to. Actually, about that, do you know where the humans are? The dead ones, I mean.’
She gives me an appraising look. ‘Yes, but you won’t get much out of them.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Their souls decay the moment they enter this realm. Most of them are little more than memories at this point. But follow the waters of my river that way until it meets the Lethe and across that you’ll find them. Keep close to my banks if you don’t want to run into any other gods; they quite literally hate being near my waters. Enjoy – and we’ll talk soon.’
She takes a step towards the water but her eyes catch on the flowers again and she bends to pluck one.
‘These truly are beautiful,’ she says, twirling it between her fingers. ‘I feel like I should hate it – pink isn’t quite my colour. But you’ve made the petals ripple. It feels like home.’ She offers a smile. ‘Thank you.’
She reaches forward to tuck the flower behind my ear. ‘There,’ she says. ‘It’s like I’m with you, keeping you safe.’
And then she disappears.
My throat is dry and I take a shaky breath. I am safe. I am not being hauled back to my parents. The flower’s petals tickle the edge of my cheek and, though I know Styx will not be able to keep me safe, it feels like she could – at the very least it is kinship and companionship and I ache with how much I’ve missed that. A whole life on an island so focused on what I lacked I never thought about what I had: companionship, friendship, love.
Before my fear can morph into sadness and before the tears escape, I start following the river, not quite running but definitely moving like if I walk quick enough my feelings might be left behind.
The soil beneath my feet thrums in welcome and slowly my anxieties fade. At home, nature feels comforting. Here, it is celebratory, like it’s thrilled I’m finally here. There are other nature deities in the courts of Olympus and Oceanus but clearly none in the Underworld. I focus on the feeling and blossoms spring where I step.
I’m not walking long before I see another river trickling to meet the Styx, its waters twisting like mist. As I get closer any sense of it being water at all feels wrong. The Lethe. The river of forgetting.
It pulls like a magnet, beckoning me closer through soft whispers and a gentle tug.
I step back. This river is even more dangerous than the dark waters of the Styx.
I scan the horizon for any sign of how far the rivers might run but I can’t see an end. The Lethe is not wide where it cuts across my path, more of a stream. I don’t know how potent it is. One drop of it might be enough to pull my memories from me.
Before I can think it through further, I run and soar across it in one bounding leap.
Reckless. Impossibly reckless.
But I’d do it again if it gets me where I want to go.
On the other side, the asphodel is thick and above it rolls a hazy grey mist.
Suddenly, I am knocked off my feet. Images flash across my mind – and then more than just pictures: sounds and smells and emotions. It’s like I’m actually there, slamming my hand on the wood of a table, my voice rising above others as they fall quiet. Then the shouting continues and I’m left with the impression of an explosive clamour of noise like someone else has shoved the feeling into my brain.
I jump up, sickle in hand.
And there’s a human.
A dead one, obviously, hazy and insubstantial like Tempest but worse. This human’s life source isn’t slowly replenishing like hers but fading. All that is left of his life is a sense of noise. A politician maybe, or a lawyer. A lot of time spent somewhere loud and chaotic.
He staggers forward aimlessly before slowly straightening, a scowl appearing on his lips.
He must have walked through me. That’s why the memories were so strong.
