‘No, we don’t,’ I say, grabbing for any food on the table and ending up with pomegranates again. Bloody pomegranates. ‘I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. There’s nothing more to discuss.’
‘All right.’
I glance up at the quiet gentleness in his voice. There’s something off about him. He’s speaking like he’s rehearsed it. I wonder if I wasn’t the only one awake for half the night.
‘When we decided we would marry and rushed the announcement, we never really spoke about what that might mean in reality. I know we are pretending in public and I know you think I am doing you a favour, but I’m not. I don’t need something in return for this arrangement. You don’t need to … to try to please me or anything like that. You don’t owe me. Irritating the Olympians and keeping you safe is reward enough.’
I hesitate, completely lost for words. Well, notcompletely. It’s more that ‘You’re an idiot – that’s not why I kissed you’ doesn’t seem the best response right now.
I can still see the way he pulled away – no, cringed back – from me.
The way he frantically got to his feet.
He couldn’t get his angry words out fast enough.
He doesn’t want me that way.
That’s fine.
And now he’s giving me an out, a way to stop this being awkward.
I nod. ‘I understand.’
Hades sighs. ‘Good.’
He reaches for his food and we lapse into silence for a few moments.
‘Well?’ he asks.
‘Well, what?’
‘Insult me or something. This silence is weird,’ he says.
I grin, although I still feel shaky. ‘Well, we established yesterday that me insulting you counts as flirting, so under the circumstances I don’t think it would be appropriate.’
His shoulders fall as he finally relaxes, a hesitant smile on his lips. ‘I think insulting each other is just us being us.’
I’m not sure what I expected from the day but it’s not the relentless wedding planning I encounter.
‘Isn’t this what your mother has been training you for since birth?’ Hades groans, head in his hands, as Tempest asks us to pick between yet another two pieces of identical-looking fabric.
‘Isn’t this what you spend all day doing?’ I retort.
‘This isn’t art.’ He looks at me like his will to live has disappeared. ‘This is admin.’
‘Okay,’ I say, standing up. ‘That’s enough of this.’
‘Persephone, we’re getting married in five days.’
‘Yes, and I have flowers to organize,’ I say. I turn to Tempest. ‘Do you enjoy this?’
‘Take one guess.’ She glowers, the fabric swatches clutched tight in her intangible hands.
‘I thought not. You’re dismissed.’
I can almost feel her relief. She runs before I can change my mind.
‘Persephone,’ Hades protests.
