‘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 pleasedat 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.
