Goddess Interrupted (8 page)

He collected firewood while I sat down on a fallen tree and hid my face in my hands. Ava sat beside me and rubbed my back.

“I can’t do this,” I whispered. “I don’t know why you thought I could, but I can’t.”

“Can’t do what?” said Ava soothingly.

“I can’t make those decisions,” I said. “I can’t—I can’t send anyone into that kind of eternity. I don’t care what they did. No one deserves that forever.”

Selfishly I wondered if giving in to Calliope was the easiest option. At least then I wouldn’t have to rule the Underworld. Oblivion was a price I was willing to pay if it meant I would never have those billions of lives resting on my conscience.

“You heard James,” said Ava. “It only happens if they think they deserve it.”

“And what if they don’t? What if they think they do because someone’s told them again and again?”

She opened and closed her mouth, and it took her a moment before she said anything. “I don’t know,” she said. “I guess that’s where you come in.”

I shook my head bitterly. “No one
deserves
anything. There’s no one keeping score. Why can’t everyone be happy for eternity, and no one has to suffer?”

“I don’t know,” said Ava softly. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t my thing. It isn’t James’s, either. It’s Henry’s. And maybe Persephone’s. She could probably tell you.”

“Great,” I muttered. “The two people who can explain it are either being held hostage or want nothing to do with this anymore. I’m sure the first thing Persephone’s going to want to do after we interrupt her is tell me all about the thousands of years she spent doing this. No wonder she gave up her immortality and ran.”

“Don’t,” said James from behind us. I jumped. He was closer than I’d thought. “Persephone went through hell. She deserves a little happiness.”

There was that word again. I didn’t care what Persephone deserved. I cared about what she’d done and why. “That’s exactly why this might all be for nothing,” I said. “If she won’t help us, then what?”

“Persephone’s a better person than you think,” said James. “Henry’s probably filled your head with all sorts of stories about how he’s the victim, but they both were. He was stuck with a wife he loved who didn’t love him back, and she was stuck with a husband she didn’t love and a job that made her miserable. Don’t hate her for that.”

I fidgeted. The only other time I’d seen James like this was when he’d confronted Henry about making me stay in Eden Manor after I’d tried to leave, and seeing James’s anger and disapproval made me want to crawl under the log and hide.

“I don’t hate her,” I said quietly. “I hate that she was something to Henry that I’ll never be. I hate that she could do this damn job without feeling ready to jump into a lake of fire herself. And Henry’s never said a word against her.”

With his mouth set in a thin line, James set down the pieces of wood he’d collected, and he started to build a small teepee that reminded me of the fries he used to treat like Lincoln Logs back in Eden High School, before I’d known he was a god. Before any of this had ever happened. “She and Henry had thousands of years together. You’ve barely had one. Give it time.”

“I’m not going to tell you again that Henry loves you,” said Ava. “You can choose to believe me or not, but I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“I know you wouldn’t, and I believe you, but you two didn’t see how he acted around me.” No matter how many years we had together and how much he loved me, I knew he would never love me as much as he loved Persephone. He couldn’t love two people that much. It was impossible.

James finished arranging the wood. Rubbing his hands together, he held them out as if he were trying to get warm. A moment later, the wood crackled, and the sticks burst into a cheerful fire. “He acts like that with all of us, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.”

I wasn’t all of them though. I was supposed to be his wife. His queen. His partner. “So I’m supposed to accept that having a husband who never touches me is fine?”

“You’re the one who decided to do this,” said James, and I glowered at him. “Don’t give me that look. I warned you he wasn’t going to act the way you expected. It’s not his fault for being himself.”

“So it’s my fault for pushing him?” I said, and the moment it was out, I knew it was true. My face reddened. I hated the desperation that filled me, making it impossible to see logic and reason; I hated the part of me that was capable of acting this way. All I wanted was to know he cared. That he wasn’t doing this because he had to. I didn’t want to force him, but he wasn’t doing it on his own, and I didn’t know what to feel anymore. Not when I was giving up my entire future on a maybe.

I touched the flower made of pink quartz and pearls in my pocket. The things he’d said to me before the ceremony—his insistence that he wanted me here. It was enough. It had to be.

“Yes,” said James, oblivious to how deeply that one word cut me. “It’s your fault. You accepted this, for better or for worse, and you need to give it more than a day. I appreciate what you’re going through, but beating yourself up about it right now isn’t going to solve anything. Toughen up, get it through your head that Henry does in fact love you, and move on. We have more important things to do.”

James was right. I had to get it together. We had to do this first, and then I could figure things out with Henry, if I ever got to see him again in the first place.

As I replayed the ceremony in my mind, those last few minutes I’d seen him, I squeezed my eyes shut and took a shaky breath. “I hesitated.”

Silence, and then Ava said in a small voice, “What?”

“During the coronation, when Henry asked me if I was willing. I hesitated.”

“I noticed that,” said James, and when I looked at him, he was leaning up against a tree with his arms crossed and his expression drawn. Of course he’d noticed. “It doesn’t mean anything, so don’t read into it. It was your right to hesitate.”

“James!” said Ava, and he shrugged.

“It is. You know it is. We can pretend this is only about Henry, and that Kate is nothing but lucky, but remember what it was like when you gave up humanity? It’s not an easy transition.”

“Whatever I had then was nothing compared to what I have now with all of you. Everyone loves me here,” said Ava, and James smiled faintly.

“Yeah, we’re all a little in love with you,” he said. “But that’s only because you’re dynamite in bed. Otherwise you’re a pain in the ass.”

Ava reached out to smack him, and as the earlier tension dissipated, I struggled not to picture the two of them together. “You two—?” I said in a strangled voice.

James focused on the fire, and Ava shrugged. “I
am
the goddess of—”

“Love and sex. Yeah, I got that.” I frowned. “Is there anyone you haven’t slept with?”

“Daddy and Henry,” she said, and I supposed that was better than no one. “Even though Daddy technically isn’t my father, it’s still a no-no.”

“Walter isn’t your father?” I said. “I didn’t know that.”

“I’m adopted,” she said proudly. “It’s a long story, but what I’m trying to say is that Henry does love you, and things are going to get better. This is just the beginning—imagine how much everyone’s going to love you in a thousand years, and how much you’re going to love them, too.”

“Or hate,” said James, and I noticed a hint of dismay in his voice that I wasn’t used to hearing from him.

“They do tend to be two of a kind,” said Ava. “Love before marriage is a novel thing, you know—all of our marriages were arranged, and we all had to grow into them, too. It took me ages to fall in love with my husband, but eventually we got there, and it was worth waiting for.”

My mouth dropped open. “You’re
married?
”

“Well, so are you.”

I gave her a look. At least Henry was the only person I’d ever been with.

“Don’t give me that,” said Ava. “I know what you’re thinking. Admittedly you’re a little young—Daddy made me get married when I turned a hundred because he said I gave him such a headache—but you’ll see eventually. Most mortals only live to be seventy or eighty at the most. You wait another five hundred years being married to the same person, and then you tell me if you’re itching to play with someone else, no matter how much you love Henry.”

I was pretty damn sure that as long as Henry would let me stay with him, I would never want to
play
with someone else, but I didn’t say that, not in front of James. If there was ever someone else, our summer together had shown me that it could very easily be him. Unless he was married, too. And with the way he and Ava interacted—

“Who is it?” I said. “Your husband, I mean.”

In the split second before she answered, I didn’t dare breathe. Anyone but James.

“Nicholas,” she said, as if it were obvious, and I released the breath I’d been holding. Out of all the members of the council, Nicholas would’ve been my last pick.

“That’s crazy,” I said faintly, refusing to look at James. I loved Henry. No matter how tough things got, James wasn’t a choice anymore. Maybe he’d been before I took my vows, but…

…but what if Henry took one look at Persephone and wanted her back?

I shoved the thought aside. I couldn’t think like that.

“I know, right?” Ava beamed. “He’s a good guy. He really knows how to handle his swords, too.”

As images of Henry embracing Persephone floated in front of me, I struggled to keep up with Ava. “What?”

“He’s a blacksmith,” she said, her eyes widening innocently. “He makes weapons—anything in the world, you name it, he can make it. And he creates things for me, of course.”

“He also puts up with you,” said James, sitting down on a tree stump on the other side of the fire. “And he’s faithful.”

Ava huffed. “I wouldn’t be able to do my job if I was only ever with him. Besides, you weren’t complaining when—”

James glared, and she stopped. Instead of grilling her more about her relationships, I looked down at my hands. Nicholas presumably loved her, or at least he felt loyal enough not to cheat, unlike Ava. Maybe she had an excuse, but it reminded me strongly of Persephone, and bitterness curled through me, wrapping around my insides and making me still as stone. For a moment, I hated Ava for doing that to her husband whether he was okay with it or not.

“You’re not married, are you?” I said to James.

He shook his head. “Not yet, not officially. There’ve been some mortals, of course, but we’ve all had a few mortals on the side.”

“More than a few,” said Ava with a snort.

“Then why get married in the first place if you’re not going to stay faithful?” I said.

Ava shrugged. “I think Daddy believed that getting married would force me to settle down, but that didn’t work out too well.” She paused. “Nicholas understands, you know. He knew what he was signing up for in the beginning, and he doesn’t mind. At the end of the day, he knows he’s the love of my life.”

“We get married for the same reasons that mortals do,” said James. “To create a family, a home, to have that sense of security. To have a partner. And in Walter, Henry and Phillip’s cases, to have a queen to help them rule.”

“Didn’t turn out too well for Henry,” I muttered, and James sighed.

“No, it didn’t.”

A strong breeze made the leaves on the trees above us rustle, and I forced myself to relax. I couldn’t change what had already happened. I could, however, control what I did, and I already knew I would never hurt Henry like that. No matter how bad things got.

However, a tendril of resentment lingered inside of me, and I couldn’t resist muttering to Ava, “If you can stay with Nicholas, then why couldn’t Persephone stay with Henry?”

She said nothing. The fire crackled, and off in the distance I heard a woman singing, but I didn’t pay attention. Many of the mortals we’d passed had been singing. While some of the songs I’d recognized, others were so old that they’d been lost to time, except to the dead who sang them.

“Persephone fell in love with a mortal,” said James after a long moment. “She wasn’t any different from the rest of us—she wasn’t faithful to Henry before she’d met Adonis, either.”

“You can’t say you’re all like that when Nicholas doesn’t cheat on Ava,” I said sharply. So it hadn’t been once, then. Henry had had to endure knowing Persephone had been with other people over and over again—presumably other members of the council he had to face afterward. Yet he’d still loved her.

“Calliope didn’t cheat on Daddy, either,” said Ava thoughtfully, and I nearly choked.

“Calliope and Walter?” I wheezed. “But he’s so
old
.”

“She’s older,” said Ava with a sniff. “Besides, age doesn’t matter after the first thousand years or so. He only looks older because he wants to. He thinks it makes him look distinguished.”

It didn’t make any sense. Not that Calliope was older or anything, but that she was married and would love Henry so badly that she was willing to kill to have him. “Then why—” I gestured around us, frustrated. “Why are we here? Why are we doing this if Calliope’s married and loyal to her husband? Why would she do all of this to get Henry if she already had Walter?”