‘Yes,’ she snaps, mirroring the vitriol in my own voice. ‘By the Fates, Kore, I didn’t design this system, so stop blaming me for it. If I have to arrange a marriage to keep you safe then I will.’
‘I’m safehere. Why can’t I just stay on Sicily?’
‘Oh,nowyou want to stay here – funny, Kore, you’ve spent the last decade begging for me to let you visit other lands.’ She shakes her head but when she speaks again it’s without the bite of her anger. ‘You’re safe here because we’ve been lucky. The wards won’t last forever, and certainly not now you’re of age. Do you really think that if I had the power to keep you safe myself, then I wouldn’t choose to have you by my side forever?’
‘No, actually, I don’t.’
That’s not true. I know it’s not. But I want to hurt her.
It works. I see my words land, the wince across her brow, her outstretched hand faltering. I don’t even feel guilty when tears spring to her eyes. I want her to cry. I want her to feel a fraction of the pain the thought of marriage causes me. I want her to realize just how much I don’t want this.
Her hurt turns to anger in seconds. Good. I want her to shout so that I can scream. ‘For your entire life, everything I’ve done has been for your protection. Stuck on this island, begging charms and wards off the other goddesses, barely going to Olympus, rarely leaving – all to keep you safe.’
‘I never asked you to do that!’
‘And I did it anyway! Anyone else would be grateful, Kore. Every single god thinks they’re entitled to take whatever they want, and that includes you. The only thing gods respect iseach other. Do you not see that marriage is the only way to protect yourself? I’m sure I don’t need to tell you the fates of other girls who thought they could survive alone.’
I don’t care, I want to snarl but my words falter on my tongue as I remember myself. There is no point in arguing and, worse, it could undo everything. All this time, I’ve been pretending I’m fine with this arrangement so she’ll lower her guard and give me the opportunity to escape, and here I am, pushing her barriers back up at the last moment for the sake of an argument I’ll never win.
I know my mother will never understand because what it comes down to is this: safety isn’t enough for me. I’d rather perish, rather be another tragic tale for a mother to use in warning, than become a long, drawn-out sigh in a hymn, an immortal life spent in misery.
But my safety – and my reputation – has and always will be my mother’s priority.
‘I know you’re scared,’ she says, her anger cooling at the opportunity for a lecture. ‘I know if you had your way you’d go off exploring the world, planting flowers, probably wearing a vastly inappropriate outfit and no shoes. But you can’t. The world is too dangerous.’
‘You can,’ I say quietly, defeat heavy in my voice.
‘Kore. I’m only going to say this once and you need to listen to me.’ She steps towards me again and strokes my cheek. ‘I love you, my dear, but you are not powerful. There are gods out there with untold powers and Zeus gave you flowers. How do you plan on keeping yourself safe with petals? Our lives are not the same. I’m one of the first gods, the goddess of sacred law, nature, the harvest – all powerful domains. Even then I’mnot powerful enough to protect you, because Zeus gave all the more powerful things to men. By the Fates, when the war ended he awarded whole realms to the boys and one of them was ten years old.’
‘To be fair, you would never have wanted the Underworld.’ Too cold, too dark, too full of horrors.
‘That’s beside the point,’ she says. ‘The only way you get more power and carve some space for yourself in this world is by aligning yourself with a powerful man in marriage. Give the others something – or, rather, someone – to fear. Do you understand me?’
I swallow and my hands are trembling, but I manage to keep my expression neutral. I want to scream that she’s wrong but I honestly don’t know if she is and I think if I try to say anything I might end up crying.
‘I understand,’ I whisper.
‘You cannot stay a girl on an island forever.’ At least we agree about one thing. ‘I know you’re scared but I’m the goddess of vegetation. There is no place on Earth you could go where I would not be able to find you.’ I know that too. ‘You won’t be leaving us forever.’
I press my hurt down, push it to where all my fear and rage coalesces into an impossibly heavy nothingness.
‘You’re a woman now.’ What an arbitrary word. I don’t remember much of a transformation on my birthday but apparently the whole world saw one. ‘You’re too old for these tantrums. Promise me you won’t be like this when your father gets here.’
There it is. Her disappointment sucks the final dregs of anger from me.
My eyes fall to the floor. Even that is enough to hurt me. I stare at the orange tiles I might never see again, the home I’m leaving – one way or another. ‘Yes, Mother.’
‘You’re beautiful, Kore. And you’re wonderful, so accomplished,normallyso obedient and gentle, so easy to love,’ she says pointedly. ‘Keep that up and any man would be lucky to have you.’
They’d be bloody blessed.
‘Are you only looking at Olympians?’ I manage.
‘Of course. I’m going to find you a good match. With an Olympian you’ll still be a part of this court. Besides, I don’t trust anyone under the rule of Poseidon to be the sort of man you marry.’
Right, because Zeus’s rule is so much better.
‘What about the court of Hades?’
