‘What do you mean by “both safe” anyway? I’m perfectly safe,’ he says.
‘Zeus threatened you at least once.’
He waves the comment away. ‘Just words.’
I think it’s been a very long time since Hades saw my father. And right now I don’t have the energy to correct him. Not when as of tomorrow, on the day of our gamos, we will be properly wed and it won’t matter anyway.
‘Let me try this one again,’ Hades says. ‘Do you want to cut your hair?’
‘It’s not that simple,’ I say. ‘Any decision I make is more to do with everyone else than me.’
‘Very well, forget cutting it then. What else would you do with it?’ he asks.
‘Thread it with flowers,’ I answer instantly. I could braid them in or form some sort of crown – like a shadow of the one I will receive on the third and final wedding day, my epaulia.
‘Then don’t cut it,’ he says.
‘But it’s supposed to be cut short to honour Artemis.’
‘Who cares?’
‘I do! And she will. We don’t need more enemies among the council,’ I say. ‘There’s still every chance Zeus will decide a marriage isn’t enough to soothe his ego, and then we really will need all the allies we can get.’
‘One step at a time,’ Hades says, coming to join me by the mirror. ‘We’ll tackle this together.’
‘No, we won’t. It’s different for me and you know it.’
‘Fine, then I’ll hold your flowers while you tear the world apart,’ he says.
It’s ridiculous, but somehow, despite everything, he’s made me laugh. ‘Do you have any suggestions that aren’t world destruction?’
‘Yes. If honouring Artemis is so important to you then find another way to do it.’
There’s an idea. I have done that before.
‘I know that look,’ he says.
I smile. ‘It’s the one I wore before making the asphodel.’
He glowers. ‘And the styx. You know, with each new deity you make flowers for, the less special I feel.’
‘Aww, poor king of Hell.’ I pat him on the shoulder. ‘You’ll survive.’
‘Darling?’ he adds before I can go and create something for Artemis. ‘Let’s just focus on getting you on the throne first, yes? Then you can raise Hell.’
‘I create you in honour of the goddess Artemis,’ I whisper to the dirt before summoning a flower. It’s only a small creation, and similar to others I have made. But it is a little harder than I expected. I’ve healed so many souls now that it’s almost second nature to connect myself to this realm. I suppose that I’m just letting divinity revive their souls, whereas flowers are a power unique to me and require more conscious effort. It’s been a while since I connected to this part of myself.
I feel tired by the time I’ve pulled a small flower patch into existence. I might be forgoing the traditional haircut, but I’m excited for the proaulia’s soothing bath and cleansing ceremonies. But first I stare with resolute satisfaction at the little white petals and their yellow centres. I think Artemis will like them – and, better, I think she’ll recognize the act of rebellion contained within them.
When I was younger, I wanted to be just like her: a guardian of young girls, running wild through the forests with her friends – if that’s all they are – hunting wherever she goes. But she never protected me, and she’s never protected hundreds of young girls just like me. Aloof and intimidating, Artemis has always felt a little too distant from the world she inhabits. If she thinks my long hair an offence, her fury could be a terrifying thing.
But Hades was right: this is a good way to push back.
I’m becoming quite used to rebelling against the traditions of my father’s world.
I merely hope the wedding works and isn’t the rebellion that gets me in trouble. Staring at the flowers that stretch across this land uniting gods, mortal souls and every creature in between, I know it’s not just me at risk if this goes wrong.
THE SECOND DAY OF THEwedding, the gamos, is the most important. For one, it’s the day of the actual wedding ceremony. But, far more importantly, it’s the day gods of the other courts arrive.
