‘Hospitality. Hearth. I’d say help yourself but isn’t that exactly what you’re already doing?’
A retort rolls to my tongue but I simply nod my head. ‘Thank you,’ I say, which isn’t a lie. I am grateful. I just may have been more so if he had been a willing participant in all this.
It appears that’s the right thing to say because Hades finally looks up. He looks younger without the heaviness of the smoke and the menacing torchlight. I forget, sometimes, that Hades and Hestia were frozen in time for so long that I was born mere months after they finally broke free.
All I know of most gods are stories – and Hades has so few. Born in the middle of a war, just like I was. And then nothing until the war ended, when, still a child, he was awarded Hell, made king of the Underworld. Resurfacing a handful of years later, a little older, he stood on a battlefield in Thermopylae, hands spread and palms wide, not a sword in sight as waves of undead crested the hill behind him, rushing to attack the Titan forces. There were no more uprisings. Then he disappeared to the realm named after himself, only the occasional whisper surfacing – tales of gloom and shadows, monsters and violent rivers. But nothing that would strike true horror into the heart of a girl, not like the stories of the gods of Olympus and Oceanus.
I take a seat and scan the food in front of me, my stomach begging me for haste, to reach for whatever is closest. I did not eat last night and I’ve been up half the night sewing. From the corner of my eye I can see Hades examining me. I wonder whether dark shadows beneath my eyes and messy, frizzy hair is what greets him.
Every single cell in my body is on alert, but the thought that my mother is telling tales of my beauty while I sit looking the worst I ever have pleases me.
I don’t look up, just keep my eyes glued to the fruit and hope Hades will fill the silence. The less I speak the less I have to pretend. A lesson from Mother: ‘There is nothing a man loves so much as his own voice, Kore. Make him think you are a blank slate to be filled with his ideas.’
Unlike surviving a marriage, surviving Hades is a temporary measure, but my mother’s advice still unsettles me. What happens if all this fails?
‘For the sake of the Styx,’ Hades barks. ‘Don’t force me to provide hospitality and then refuse it.’
I jump. I’d expected his anger but not this bluntness.
I glance at the food, then at him.
‘I read that food consumed in the Underworld binds you to it.’
‘And where did you read that? Are they making travel guides for my realm now?’ He’s watching me so intently that I’m scared of blinking in case he gets the wrong impression. He doesn’t wait for an answer, which is just as well as I wasn’t planning on giving one. ‘That only applies to food grown in the Underworld. This is from the surface. Pedasa, I believe.’
I still don’t reach for anything. I’m not sure if lying is outlawed by xenia but I’d be a fool to simply trust him.
He glares. ‘By the Fates, the last thing I want is you here for eternity. Nor would I break xenia in so mundane a way.’
Then how would you break it, Hades?
He does, I suppose, have a point. He doesn’t want me here at all, let alone forever. This feels like a test, like he wants to see whether I will believe him or not. I reach for the nearest bowl and find it contains pomegranate seeds. I’m not a particular fan of pomegranates but this feels too important a moment to be picky, so I shove a spoonful into my mouth.
He doesn’t look like he cares.
‘So, how longareyou planning on staying here?’ Hades asks. ‘What’s your plan?’
I almost laugh. Thiswasmy plan – just getting here. Everything beyond that is improv. But, if Hades wants to think of me as some genius with a masterplan to avoid Olympus, I’ll let him.
He looks at me expectantly, like I’m about to give him a departure date.
I reach for the apples and choose silence.
‘Very well. I’m sure you’ll have requirements. A loom, a lyre, whatever it is you wish to fill your day with. The aurai are almost always around.’ So they are wind nymphs then, rushing around the halls, acting almost like servants. ‘They’ll be able to get you paints or thread or whatever it is you require.’
I’m so glad living with Mother has made me an expert at biting my tongue. The thought of me running off to Hell to find a quiet place to sew is too funny, though he won’t get that from my carefully neutral face.
‘Whatever keeps you busy and away from me.’ He smiles but it’s more of a cruel twist of his lips. ‘Of course, given xenia so carefully specifies I give you a place atmytable, I’ll see you at mealtimes. But other than that I would much prefer you stay as far away from me as possible. A whole realm away is my preference but, then again, my preferences don’t hold much sway here, do they?’
‘I’m sure you’ll cope,’ I mutter. I’m furious with myself a moment later. It’s like he’s pushing me, like he wants me to break, and I refuse to give him the satisfaction of doing just that.
‘What was that?’
I smile demurely. ‘I’m so sorry for the inconvenience, my lord. I hope I do not burden you too much. Perhaps with time you might find my company tolerable, possibly even enjoyable.’
His jaw tenses and the smoke ripples along his skin.
I get the feeling he’s not taking it as a genuine apology, which is rather satisfying, even if it would be much better for me if he swallowed the lie.
