He takes a pillow from the bed and places it on the floor.
‘What are you doing? I told you to get in the bed,’ I say.
He smiles but I’m not sure I’ve seen a sadder expression cross his face.
‘I hate to disobey my queen,’ he says. ‘But I’m afraid I must – just this once.’
He takes the thinnest of blankets from the foot of the bed and lies on the floor.
‘Sleep well, wife.’
I’m not sure what just happened or what to say but at last I manage, ‘Goodnight, husband.’
The lanterns flicker out and I lie with my eyes open, staring at the darkness while echoes of still-partying gods filter down the hall.
After an hour, Hades’ deep breathing fills the room, but I still can’t sleep.
This is ridiculous.
And after another sleepless few hours, I haul the rest of the blankets over to the floor and join him. I can’t relax, knowing he’s down here just so I can have the bed.
And it seems almost the moment I lie on the rug beside him, I fall asleep.
IWAKE IN A TANGLE OFarms and flinch almost out of my skin.
Hades is still sleeping, thank the gods.
I don’t know who was holding whom, and my heart races to think that all it would have taken was Hades to wake first and … then what? He would have known how I feel? Or worse, he would have suspected. And I would have been on eggshells forever more.
I sneak from the room before I can even glance at him as he sleeps. He’s all I can smell, all I can feel – the press of his leg against mine, his fingers on my waist … Looking at him is something I cannot risk doing if I ever want to put these ridiculous feelings to rest.
I return to my room, seeing only one god on my way – Apollo, who quickly clocks Hades’ robe and offers me a thumbs up. He is draped in a robe lined with embroidered shells, clearly gained from a member of Poseidon’s court.
It takes me hours to get ready. I have no mortal companions this time but I am determined to look stunning on my own. Iwant to look powerful and frightening and somewhat ethereal. I must dress for the role, after all.
Beauty belongs to yesterday. The coronation today is the time for something harsher, something more threatening.
I shade the hollows of my cheeks, the creases of my eyes. I exaggerate what can be exaggerated. I curl my hair so that it takes up as much space as possible, pinning it out of my face almost severely. It looks good. With a crown, it will look incredible.
I pull gloves on and ask Tempest to help lace the back of my dress. I don’t look like the queen of Hell; I look like death itself.
I might not deserve this crown but if it’s what I need to stay here then I’ll tear it away from whoever holds it. I’ll take it like I took charge of this realm, like I took my opportunity to escape that island. This isn’t about Hades. This is about me, and this world. I think of the flowers I have planted here and the rivers and the lake, I think of the mortals and the creatures and how much I adore this place. It’s not just Hades or Styx or the mortals I have done all this for, that I am staying for, but myself.
When I look in the mirror, there’s something almost insubstantial about me, like I have pulled the aura of this world about me like a cape. It reminds me of the sheer black fabric I need to attach to the lace across my shoulders – a veil nothing like the one I wore yesterday.
I think about what Hecate said. About me and this realm. About the power I might hold.
If I had looked like this yesterday I might have been more inclined to believe her.
There’s a knock on my door and I call for whoever it is to enter, knowing that no one who isn’t supposed to be there would dare.
It’s Hades, of course.
His robes are encrusted with jewels, all of them crushed so fine it’s like they’ve been woven into the fabric. Ceremonial, I suppose. But he looks rich, decadent – like an embodiment of all this world has to offer. He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, and in such formal robes he stands a little taller, the gems sparkling so bright that every eye in the room will be drawn to him.
‘You look deadly,’ he says.
‘Thank you.’
