Is he serious? I can think of few things more wonderful than soil and air.
‘I want you to love this realm as much as I do. Where would you rather be? I assume not at court.’
Hades shakes his head. ‘There’s nowhere I’d rather be – that’s the irony.’
‘I always wanted to see Cyprus,’ I confess.
Hades snorts. ‘Aphrodite? How cliché.’
‘It’s a cliché for a reason,’ I say. ‘She’s the goddess of beauty and Cyprus is her island. It’s supposed to be just as stunning as she is. I’ve always imagined that the life that blooms there must be something ethereal. I feel it sometimes, calling to me – all those flowers. I want to explore further edges too, to visit islands like mine and islands the complete opposite, to see flowers blooming in snow and in desert, to see life on the shores and on the mountains.’
Hades stares into the distance.
‘Are you all right?’ I ask.
‘Your mother keeping you locked on that island was such an act of cruelty.’
I bite my lip. ‘Maybe. But … Mother is a lot of things, but the dangers she spoke of? They’re very real.’
He nods. ‘Yes, that’s true.’
I need to write to her but, every second I don’t, the idea of doing so becomes harder, the consequences greater. I don’t know how to say all I need to say. I keep thinking of the many ways she might react – and lingering on rejection.
‘Sorry,’ Hades says. ‘I shouldn’t have mentioned your mother.’
‘I just …’ I shake my head. I can’t even tell Hades how I feel because I’m not sure I really know. And, if I can’t tell him, how am I supposed to tell her? ‘I love my mother so much,’ I finally manage. ‘But sometimes I think I might hate her too. I think I blame her for things that aren’t even her fault and I don’t know how to reckon with that. You’re right – I am angry at the factshe kept me on that island. But what else was she supposed to do? It’s so confusing.’
‘I can only imagine.’
‘Do you think she’s a bad mother? Am I a bad person for thinking all this?’
‘You’re not a bad person, Persephone,’ he says without hesitation, but he takes a moment to consider the rest. He stops walking and turns to face me. ‘From what you’ve told me, I think your mother raised a daughter who would survive this world. I think she tried to force you into a box you didn’t belong in, and she did it with enough scolding and praise that she convinced you her love was conditional on your behaviour. I think your self-worth is too bound up with your mother’s approval. And I think you’re allowed to feel however you want about it all.’
He’s right. Here I am, having gone against her, and I’m terrified she might never forgive me, might never love me again.
And still I can’t think of one concrete thing I wish she’d done instead.
‘I think maybe it’s impossible to be a good mother in the world my father created,’ I say. My voice catches on how devastatingly sad that truth is. Was I destined to feel this pain? Everything my mother did, all the difficult choices she made, she was always going to fail because this is not a world where you can succeed in a thing like having a daughter.
‘That’s probably true,’ Hades says. ‘But people can have good intentions and still hurt other people, and you don’t need to feel guilty for feeling upset about it.’
‘I don’t think I am upset. Or I’m notjustupset – I’m angry too and I can’t really work out where the line separating thosethings is. I just … keep thinking of all the things she was trying to keep me safe from. Even you. All those barriers round the island, and I realized she’d never warded against the Underworld. If you were a different kind of person, the kind who would have exploited that, then she would have done everything right and still lost.’
‘I know,’ he says. ‘I think about that a lot. And then, on top of that, you chose to come here anyway. Sometimes I find myself … furious knowing you took such a risk, put yourself in such danger. I could have been anyone.’
‘It didn’t feel as big a risk as my parents’ plans. In the only stories I’d ever heard about you, you wouldn’t wield a sword, and I kind of … well, fixated on the thought that somewhere out there was someone – some boy – who didn’t want violence. Then I heard about the army of the undead. I couldn’t understand how a man could have that much power and Mother wouldn’t have a single story about him abusing it. That’s all I knew and it was a risk I was willing to take because I was desperate. Maybe you would hurt me but you’d at least be breaking xenia and there would be consequences – whoever Mother married me off to would’ve had the right to do all that.’
He is devoid of expression but tension creeps along his shoulder blades.
‘Come on,’ I say. ‘We know the world is terrible. That’s why we’re making all these changes to the afterlife. I don’t want any more girls to be raised on islands and told to dress a certain way, act a certain way and take precautions so that they don’t “provoke” men into violence. We’re creating our own consequences. We’re changing everything.’
‘With an iron fist,’ he says grimly.
‘Gentility will get you nowhere in a world where my father sits on a throne,’ I say firmly, as though daring him to disagree. ‘Do my methods bother you?’
‘I couldn’t do it. I’m not … ruthless like you are.’ I think he’s insulting me but when I look at him he almost seems admiring, his eyes sparkling when they turn to me. ‘But I don’t think it’s a bad thing that you are. It’s why you’re better at ruling this realm than I am.’
I don’t know if it’s good or bad to be so unrelenting. I could only survive, only avoid sliding into an awful place, with someone as peaceful as Hades by my side.
