Hades pulls me closer. ‘Wife.’ The one word spills with such joy that I suddenly can’t imagine it being said any other way.
Around us, cheers erupt.
THE CHEERS ARE OVERWHELMING ANDwe only have a moment of being crushed by the noise before the people swarm us too. They shunt us towards the palace and it’s chaos, but Hades clings to my hand and I’m shocked to find myself not just smiling but laughing ecstatically. In all of our planning, I didn’t prepare myself for how happy an event it would be. I was so focused on convincing everyone we love each other that I didn’t think about how joyful a wedding might be if you believed in that love.
When we finally cross the threshold the excited shouts get even louder.
Ares claps Hades on the back.
‘Very nicely done,’ he says.
‘Tell me the food in the Underworld is decent,’ Dionysus whines. ‘I’m starving.’
I look round the room for my parents – as though I might have missed my mother and she’s here after all, or my father might be storming through the crowd, lightning bolt clenched tight in his fist. But there are too many people. The womenare already gathering together, waiting for me to take them through to our separate feast.
‘I will see you soon?’ Hades asks as the men gather on his side. His robes are still splattered with the water that joined us, the same water that’s clinging to the petals of my veil. I don’t want to go separate ways; I want to be alone with Hades, to strip out of our damp clothes into cosier robes, to drink tea by the fireplace and chat for hours.
But the wedding is so much more than the ceremony, and there are other traditions to get through.
‘Of course,’ I say chirpily, hoping that if I sound excited I might become it. ‘You aren’t getting rid of me that quickly.’
People around us titter at the idea Hades, who has masterminded my abduction, has become bored of me already.
Maybe they don’t believe our love after all. Maybe they’re just excited for Hades to have won in such a way. Or maybe they believe he took me and I’ve fallen for him, held prisoner until I grew fond of him.
I remind myself that, to be my true self, I must be safe, and to get there I must conform until the moment this wedding is over. The moment the crown is on my head. So I smile, lips thin as a knife edge, and tell myself that everything that has my stomach in knots and my head swimming is ammunition. It will be a joy to bring these cruel beings to ruin.
‘Ladies.’ I nod to the goddesses. ‘Shall we?’
As we start walking, Hestia comes to my side and slings her arm round my neck.
‘You look beautiful,’ she says excitedly.
‘As do you.’ It’s true – Hestia doesn’t need all the extravagance I have reached for in my outfit. She has a way of making plainitems graceful. With her simple umber dress, held at her throat by a chain of wooden beads a few shades lighter than her skin, and her intricate braids bound together in a twisting knot, she’s lovely – and then she smiles. Hestia’s smiles contain the warmth of a dozen hearths and I’m so glad she’s here.
She lowers her voice and asks, ‘Are you all right?’
I’m not prepared for the sting of tears. She’s the first person to ask me that.
‘Yes,’ I say firmly, offering a smile. ‘Thank you.’ I put so much sincerity into my thanks that Hestia nods, seemingly convinced.
‘Xenia gets used a lot,’ she says. ‘I can’t really keep track of it all – but you used it, didn’t you? And he didn’t break it?’
‘Hestia, I …’ I don’t really want to discuss this here, even with the other goddesses chattering among themselves. Someone might hear.
‘I was just going to say,’ she continues, ‘as goddess of home, I can feel that this is yours. And I’m glad you found it.’
She lets go with a final squeeze and slips back into the crowd of goddesses. I blink, my heart a little warmer.
I take them all to the east wing. On Olympus, it is rumoured to be Zeus’s favourite wing, where he can watch the sun rise and view his world in glorious splendour. Down here, the wing is mine. The huge arched windows look out on to fields of flowers, the edges of the human lands traceable on the horizon. Bouquets hang from the torches in the corridor, guiding us to the hall at the end. The white marble no longer feels like a mausoleum, not now it’s hung with tapestries and art.
When we reach the hall, a long golden table stretches down its length. Chandeliers shine with twinkling lights, the ceilingso high you could blink and believe the lights were the stars themselves.
‘We’re eating?’ Hestia asks gleefully as she sees the spread before her.
I have been working with the nymphs and mortals for days to prepare. With access to myriad ingredients, they have created dishes I’ve never even heard of. The long table groans under plates piled with juicy meat cooked in garlic and parsley, twists of bread studded with olives, vegetables roasted in olive oil and coated in flakes of salt, rice fragrant with jasmine, curried dishes with their scents that spiral into the air, and other plates with names in languages I am yet to learn.
‘Yes,’ I confirm, heading to my seat at the head of the table.
