‘Where?’ I ask, stepping forward quickly.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Where was the wheat grown? I went outside earlier and could barely feel a whisper of any living thing.’ I take the seat next to him. The moment I do, I think that maybe all of these place settings were meant as a test. I’d interpret my choice as a powerful one, saying that I’m not scared of him. But I wonder how he’ll interpret it.
‘Away from here,’ he says after a moment, clearly deciding not to press whatever it was he thought he’d picked up on. ‘I told you not to go outside.’
I pile my plate with everything that’s not bread but the baked rolls are the only thing I can smell. My throat feels choked and the shining fruit on my plate looks fake. ‘No, you told me you couldn’t protect me outside. I took my chances.’
‘You –’
‘How does the rest of the food get here?’
‘What?’ He scowls, apparently thrown by my refusal to drop the topic. ‘I don’t know. I delegate it. Hermes sorts that sort of thing. I suppose I’ll still have to ask him to do it while court is adjourned. Funny, isn’t it, how your request for hospitality is draining me of it?’
‘Who grows the wheat down here?’ I press. I dip a carrot into the garlicky yogurt and pay no heed to his insults. I find myself strangely fascinated by the machinations of his court and all its moving parts. Father always claimed running a realm was hard and tiresome work but it seems straightforward enough to me, especially if asking someone to order food is the most taxing problem. ‘I wasn’t aware there was an Underworld god of wheat farming. When court is summoned does he sit beside the god of nightmares and the ferryman of the dead?’
‘There are several farming gods, actually,’ he says curtly. ‘They oversee the humans who grow the food.’
‘The dead humans?’
‘Would you expect any other type to be found down here?’
‘I’m not sure any more, not after the aurai,’ I say matter-of-factly. ‘And I’m not sure the idea of live human farmers in the Underworld is any stranger than dead human farmers.’
Hades shrugs. ‘The dead forget who they are. For some that means becoming fixed on routine. Farming is what they did when they were alive so it becomes what they do in death.’
I swallow a mouthful of chickpeas. ‘Doing in death as was done in life? That’s depressing.’
‘I’m not sure why that’s a surprise. I never intended the world of the dead to be advertised as the tourist destination it’sevidently become,’ Hades says pointedly and I surprise us both by laughing.
I quell it quickly but Hades has a strange way of ignoring me that makes me feel watched. His eyes are on his paper again but I still feel like he’s studying me.
I’m normally so careful, so assured in my performance that I don’t even realize I’m doing it. Back straight, eyes down, demure smile and I am an idle decoration, a pleasant painting brightening a room. But I can’t make my mind empty when it’s still grappling with the surging panic brought on by my earlier thoughts of my mother and, without all the pretence, I feel raw and exposed and, gods, I’m running from her but I miss her. I want her hands on my hair as she tells me how beautiful I am, how proud I will make her. Or more specifically I want that feeling, the warmth that comes with her smiles, her compliments, her approval. The joy of doing everything I should be doing. The feeling that makes me forget the free-falling crush of letting her down.
The tight knot in my stomach reminds me that I shouldn’t be here. She wouldn’t want this.
‘How far are the humans?’ I ask, searching for anything to keep me from my spinning emotions.
‘Why? Do you have more flowers to plant?’ Hades retorts without tearing his eyes from his papers.
‘You saw?’ I ask over my cup of wine. Internally my smile is more of a smirk, but he sees the excited, giddy one I use with the nymphs when I’m feeling low so that they don’t ask me what’s wrong. ‘Did you like them?’
‘They’re certainly something. Was that a new one by the Styx? How very bored you must be.’
It’s about as much of an answer as I was hoping for.
‘I felt bad about getting your attention by destroying the asphodel. I really did mean for it to honour you.’ I take a careful sip of wine because the sentimentality, even if fake, is literally difficult to swallow.
‘I’m touched.’
I’m impressed – I don’t think even I could manage words that dry.
‘But, no, I was thinking of visiting the humans tomorrow,’ I say bluntly. I have no issue with sneaking around, but I want to know how he will react to something verging on my real interests.
He looks up from the paper with mild interest. ‘Well, I certainly don’t recommend that. As I say, you’re safe only within these walls.’
‘I’m happy to take the risk.’
