Hades reaches for the lacy edge of the veil. His fingers brush mine and a thousand jolts shake my skin. There is something about being surrounded by this many people that makes every look and every movement mean so much.
His hands shake as he raises the veil.
I plaster an adoring look on my face, determined not to show any of the anxiousness or heartbreak that I’m feeling.
The veil falls back and gasps ring through the room.
‘She’s beautiful …’
‘By the Fates …’
‘Her hair, though – it’s not cut …’
Whispers catch at me but I ignore them. My eyes meet Hades’ before I lean up to him and he down to me, just as we planned – the perfect second of hesitation, the charged air crackling, and then the moment our lips touch. All of it timed to cause the exclamations that sound around us.
I move my lips against his methodically. Yes, his lips are soft, and all I want is to give myself over to what we are doing. But I can’t.
I couldn’t do that to him – take advantage of the kiss necessitated by this ceremony to imagine a kiss that means something. I think of our kiss at the lake, and how I put everything into it. Now I focus on deceit, the muttering gods and angling my head so everyone can see. There’s nothing in it at all.
But then his breath fills my lungs and I pull back, the unexpected intimacy catching at the iron I had wrapped my feelings in.
Hades blinks like he’s disoriented and I force a smile, ducking my head as though embarrassed while the crowd cheer.
I didn’t think faking this would be so difficult. Surely it should be easy to pretend if you’re not really pretending? But I’ve layered myself in so many pretences that anything true has been strangled.
The middle Fate, Lachesis, steps forward, as Clotho fades back. Lachesis holds an apple in her outstretched hands. There’s something wicked about its red gleam in the palms of Fate.Something that makes me reluctant to pluck it from her fingers. It is something the man would normally do first – Hades and I agreed it would be an easy act of rebellion.
I snatch the apple before I can think better of it, and my teeth tear into the crisp skin, its tang coating my tongue before the first murmurs.
I hold the apple out to Hades. He smiles that amused, teasing smile of his and then bites not the other side, as would be custom, but next to my own bite. His lips meet the skin where mine just were.
My knees go weak.
I’m not sure why this one small act has butterflies fluttering in my stomach when our actual kiss did, well, not nothing but close to it. But here we are.
And I’m not the only one. The Muses are fanning themselves in the crowd.
I suppose if I must have a fake husband, having one so attractive is definitely a plus.
The crown doesn’t hurt either.
He hands the apple back to Lachesis and she buries it in a pocket. I dread to think what spells that apple will be used for.
Atropos, the third Fate, steps forward, a loutrophoros in her wrinkled hands. Water sloshes in the vase with each step.
Hades takes my hand and we kneel before her. The cold stone presses through the thin layers of my dress until my knees ache.
I startle as the water hits me. My veil dampens and water clings to my hair, but not much is poured before the thin stream moves to Hades. His white robes turn translucentwhere the water hits – a flash of collarbone presses through, muscular grooves across his abdomen I ache to trace.
All at once the water stops and we rise to our feet.
Atropos steps back to join her sisters.
My heart pounds and I look at Hades, our hands still entwined, my other hand clutching my bouquet like it’s the only thing in all this that makes sense.
It’s over. We’re married.
I recover quickly. ‘Husband.’ I grin, unable to tear my eyes from the drops of water that cling to his eyelashes.
