‘And how would I know?’
‘Youwerethere when you caused all those things, right? And you knew you were supposed to be a goddess of flowers andnatural beauty. What do you think repairing souls has to do with flowers?’
‘I assumed all gods could do that!’
‘Well, that’s not Hades’ fault,’ Styx says. ‘And I also suspected something so you might as well be angry with me too.’
I glare at her.
‘Okay, don’t actually be angry with me though. I’m too cute to be upset with.’ Cute is not the word I would use for a woman who looks one genetic line away from a banshee. ‘I’m just saying … I kind of see his point.’
‘Well, I didn’t marry you.’
‘More’s the pity. I’m just saying he –’
‘I can’t believe you’re taking his side on this.’
‘What? I love you, darling, but I love him too.’ She smiles serenely. ‘I am the calm centre, refusing to take sides.’
‘You’re literally a raging torrent of pure hatred. Pick a side,’ I grumble.
She grimaces. ‘I know it can’t be fun being accosted like that at your own wedding. And, even if you did suspect something, Hades clearly thought he knew something you didn’t, which, as I say, dick move. But I don’t think he thought marrying you would be a way to control your power. Firstly, that would be a stupid thing to do when he doesn’t even know what that power is. Secondly, he has enough power of his own – what does he need yours for? And, finally, I think you know he didn’t do that, because you know he would never do something like that.’
I shrug. ‘I can’t exactly be unbiased though. I care about him.’
‘Well, there’s your answer. Get over it.’
‘Caring about him doesn’t give him a free pass for shitty behaviour.’
‘No, but it doesn’t sound like he’s asking for a free pass – he’s asking for forgiveness. He apologized, you miss him, go kiss and make up.’
Ah, there we go.
‘I’m going to kill you.’
‘Can’t wait to die and go to Hell!’ She flings her arms round me, clinging even harder when I try to push her off.
I understand what she’s saying, I do. But every time I think that he may have had an ulterior motive for marrying me, no matter how unlikely that is, no matter that ninety per cent of me believes he didn’t, my heart pounds and my throat seizes up and I’m so dizzy I could faint.
And I don’t know how we move past this.
ITHROW MYSELF INTO CREATINGthe afterlife, refining my plan, talking to the mortals, discussing it with the gods who will be involved and doing whatever I can to make it possible. Except, of course, working outhowto make it possible. There’s nothing in the books, no knowledge collected by other deities, no bright spark of an idea that comes to me when I least expect it.
I don’t want to admit that I know exactly who to go to for answers, but I’m too scared to actually talk to her. Even the thought of Hecate makes me nervous. There’s something about her that reminds me of Mother, though they couldn’t be more different. Whatever anxieties I have about Mother, a shadow of them lies within Hecate too.
I so desperately want to talk to Hades about it. I need more time but I miss him too much to take it. Just when I feel like I might crack – when I come closest to saying that I forgive him when I know I don’t – I request a meeting with Hecate.
‘You believe me now, then?’ she says, still in wizened-croneform. We’re in a reception room overlooking the courtyard in the centre of the palace, where Hades and I were married. There’s a bowl of apples on the side table, fruit from the trees I planted finally grown, and she gravitates towards it. She picks one up, examines it and tosses it back before I can warn her not to eat it. It was grown here and she’d be trapped.
‘I have questions,’ I say.
‘I’m sure you do.’
‘What are my powers?’
She cackles. ‘If you don’t even know that then I can’t help you with anything.’
‘Then how do I find out?’
