Radiant Darkness (8 page)
Authors: Emily Whitman
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Girls & Women, #Legends; Myths; Fables, #Greek & Roman, #Love & Romance
The sound of splashing makes my feet itch for cool, lapping water. I stroll around a bend, looking for a private spot where I can wade in alone. In a few minutes I come to a curve in the bank where a pale-leafed tree stands guard, and I pause, listening.
I still hear singing, but it's no longer drifting over from the shades. No, the song seems to rise from the river itself. It ripples through me until I'm swaying to its rhythm. My feet start dancing a graceful grapevine toward the water, and as I dance, the morning's worries lift off my shoulders. Hades' disappearance, getting lost in the castle, my total ignorance about how to play queen—the river's music is carrying it all away. I'm humming, then singing along to a gentle, alluring song whose words I somehow know.
I lift my chiton above my knees, ready to wade in, when a faint shout interrupts the music. I shake my head like a horse trying to get rid of an annoying fly, but the harsh noise comes again and again. I look up, irritated. There's a rider galloping from the palace, waving a hand frantically overhead.
My toes wiggle deeper into the grass. I raise my chiton
another inch as the black horse devours the ground with its hooves and the rider's cloak streams out behind him.
It's Hades.
Hades! A burst of pleasure fills me—look how fast he's rushing to reach me! His tenderness last night suffuses my body again, and I melt. I'll wait for him. We'll go for a swim together, and then he'll explain why he wasn't by my side when I woke.
He gallops up, leaps from the horse's sweating back, and pulls me roughly aside.
"Not that river!" he says, his voice raspy. "Anywhere but there." He's holding my arm too hard. It hurts. "By Cerberus, it's good I came when I did."
That's not what I expected to hear. Where's the apology? The kiss? So I answer sharply, "It's good you came when you did? It's good you abandoned me to wake up all alone? I didn't even know there'd be sun! I thought there'd be moaning wraiths everywhere!"
"I've been away so much, I had business to attend to." He lets go of my arm so he can put both hands on my shoulders. "How was I to know you rise before the birds? I came back to wake you and you were gone. And the way jewels and clothing were scattered around, it looked like thieves had snatched you away."
His anxious voice, his creased brow . . . "You were worried!" I exclaim. "You!"
Because of me.
I kiss him, not caring who sees. But the shades keep humming and playing on the banks, oblivious.
Finally Hades says, "Come." He leads me to the tree and we sit under its leafy branches. He wraps an arm around my shoulders. I lean into his side, and when he speaks, I feel his voice vibrating in his chest.
"When I came back to our room this morning, I was looking forward to waking you myself. And then, actually, I planned to bring you here. To show you your new home's beauties. And its dangers."
He looks pointedly at the river. It flows just as gently and innocuously as before.
I snort. "Dangers! It's not exactly a raging torrent. And it's already full of people. If the river's so dangerous, why aren't you trying to save
them
?"
them
?"
"Because they're the reason it's here," he says, shifting back against the trunk and holding me tighter. "You see, some shades like thinking about their life on Earth, but for many, memory is an enemy. They grouse about what they left behind—wrongs done them, and tasks left unfinished. They wail about children in danger. They pick fights. In short, they're miserable. And that makes trouble. For them, there's the Lethe. The River of Forgetting."
Across the distance, laughter rises and floats away like steam.
Hades looks at me. "Don't you hear the river calling?"
"But it's so joyous, so peaceful! It couldn't do any harm."
He shakes his head. "Those who accept the river's embrace lose their pain, but they also lose their past, their memories, their very names. They're happy precisely because they forget who they were."
"Can't they go in just a little bit, maybe dip in a toe, and ease their pain without losing themselves?"
"In theory," he says. "But the Lethe is a powerful drug. Once touched, it's too delicious to resist in full."
I try to listen more closely. Now the water's enticing song seems to be made of a thousand twining notes. It's as if each drop of water were a voice surrendered to the river.
"But they're shades, Hades. It might not do the same to me."
"Why risk losing everything for the sake of an experiment?" he says. "What if those beautiful eyes of yours were blank? Your body nothing but an empty shell? That's not what I want sharing my bed." I cuddle closer as he reaches his other arm around and runs a warm hand slowly along my arm.
Then, in a more practical voice, he adds, "Or ruling beside me. What if the Lethe swallowed your power?"
"Me? Power?" I have to laugh. "I don't know why you keep saying that."
"I want you for you. All of you." He stands and gives me his hand. "Now let me show you around."
He lifts me onto the horse and leaps up behind me. With an arm firmly circling my waist, he nuzzles my neck and nudges the horse on with his heels.
We ride past a gleaming temple, open to the skies and guarded by ghostly white poplars. A golden throne with lion legs gleams on a white marble dais. Hades' voice murmurs in my ear. "For outdoor festivals."
We ride and ride and ride along a wall that's taller than two horses. "Our borders have never been broached," he says with pride. "These walls circle our realm, except where rivers do the job. You've seen the Lethe. Now I'll show you the Phlegethon, if you're not bored yet."
Bored? My eyes are more open than they've ever been, drinking up a brand-new world. The warm, dusty air smells like perfume to me. The horse's hooves make music as Hades holds me close.
At one point he gestures to a gate where the sun enters each morning, crossing our lands when it's night on Earth. So
that's
why the sun is here. There are other gates, too, all firmly closed, and yet the walls feel as comfortable as Hades' arm, like a golden ring on a willing finger.
that's
why the sun is here. There are other gates, too, all firmly closed, and yet the walls feel as comfortable as Hades' arm, like a golden ring on a willing finger.
I smell sulfur and a smoky scent like burning torches. We round a bend and look down a cliff and I cry, "The river's on fire!"
"It isn't
on
fire," says Hades. "It
is
fire. Pure flame flows through the Phlegethon's banks, charring them black. That bronze door on the other side is the entrance to Tartarus."
on
fire," says Hades. "It
is
fire. Pure flame flows through the Phlegethon's banks, charring them black. That bronze door on the other side is the entrance to Tartarus."
Tartarus, prison for Titans and miscreant gods. In spite of the heat, I shiver, and Hades turns the horse around. "Don't worry," he says. "They can't escape, any more than mortal shades can cross back over the River Styx."
"Show me," I say. Anything to stay like this, wrapped in Hades' arm.
The horse's rhythmic step lulls me, and I lose track of time. Finally we stop, and Hades points to a curving road that disappears into thick trees.
"The Styx is over there. That river won't burn you, or suck out your identity, but don't try to go wading across. It has its own dangers. The banks are ferociously guarded."
"Guarded against what?"
"Escape. Charon the ferryman brings shades across that border from Zeus's realm, but no one crosses in the other direction. No one. Cerberus makes sure of that."
"Let's go see it."
"We'll have to do it another day." He glances up at the sun. "We took longer than I expected. Now it's time to prepare for your grand entrance."
"My
what
?"
what
?"
"Today you enter the throne room as my queen."
I don't say anything the whole ride back to the palace, and I barely see the land around me. I think there are more streams, and we go through a gate, but I'm not sure. I'm too busy worrying.
I Take My Throne
S
ervant girls bathe me in the red marble bathtub. They anoint my skin with rose-scented oil until I glisten. They drape me in a purple chiton with golden, three-headed dogs guarding the hem. Gingerly, they fix in glittering brooches and place a broad girdle around my waist. They bend obsequiously, strapping my feet in ruby-studded sandals. Without a word, they hold out earrings for my approval: intricate golden boats, a small oarsman in the center of each, and delicate diamond stars dangling from bow and stern. When I nod, the servants slip them in my ears and the stars tickle my shoulders. They load heavy bracelets on my wrists and drape yokes of jewels around my neck. After spending ages on my tangled locks, they hold up a mirror to show me rubies glittering like fire in the dark night of my elegant hair. Then comes my crown: a blazing circlet of golden leaves. Finally, kneeling before me, they bow their obeisance, signaling that they're done.
At the door, another servant meekly bobs her head then turns to show me the way. I guess we're not taking any chances I'll get lost. It's time for my grand entrance. I'm about to take my throne.
My stomach rises in my throat.
I thought about the ceremony the whole time they were dressing me, and I've decided how to get through it. I'll enter quietly and make my way discreetly to the dais. Then I'll put my feet on the little footstool like I've seen in pictures, and I'll sit tall and keep my mouth shut. I won't do or say a thing. I'll just watch and listen. That way, nothing can go wrong. I'll be like a silent sponge on the ocean floor, letting the water waft information through my open pores.
My golden sandals clatter down the corridor, echoing into rooms as we pass. It's not like the early morning when the halls were deserted; servants are everywhere, and they're all kneeling on the floor with lowered heads. I want to grab their hands and pull them up, but I don't.
We come to the stairway where the statue of Hades and the three-headed dog stand guard. But once we go down the stairs we turn right, down a new hall. I peer in at the doors to either side as we pass. Another room full of vases. Another lined with wooden boxes. Another—and then I stop.
In a light, spacious room looking out on a courtyard, a loom stands fully threaded. Silver weights pull the warp threads straight and true, just begging for the shuttle. A silver basket bubbles with balls of yarn. I step closer. There, carved at the top of the loom, is my name:
Persephone
.
Persephone
.
"My lady!" says the servant girl in a tiny, frightened voice. "My lady, forgive me, but we'll be late!"
I pull myself away from the loom and follow her into the grandest hallway yet. A double row of broad red pillars leads to a wall with stone blocks the size of sheep, and gigantic double doors. We pause in front of the thick wooden panels, and I can hear rustling and the muted hum of voices.
I'm breathing so hard the girdle feels tight around my waist, and the heavy necklaces rise and fall on my chest like boats riding the waves.
I can do this. I throw back my shoulders and try to stand tall like a tree stretching toward the sun. Taking a deep breath, I nod. The servant girl throws open the doors and stands back for me to pass.
A hush falls over the cavernous room. Somewhere up in the ether, a roof disappears above red columns. Waves of cloaks and chitons rustle as a sea of faces turns my way. At the far end of all those bodies, Hades rises from a benchlike throne big enough for two. Now he stands, waiting for me.
Even from this distance, his hair is burnished blacker against golden robes. Where is the man I fell in love with, the one with an easy smile, the one lounging next to me on the grass? The man in front of me now is pure power, a god-king.
And me?
I realize everyone is staring at me: my dress, my jewels, my hands, my hair, my face. I take a step and people move back, creating a path.
Only the
click, click
of my sandals breaks the terrible silence. Left foot, right foot, head high, left foot, shoulders back, right foot—right foot! My sandal lands on a long cloak. Its owner, gasping in apology, jerks it away—and my right foot with it. The slippery gold sole flies out behind me as my arms grab at the air. I'm suspended. Time stops. Just me in midair screeching and every single eye glued to me as I crash to the floor, my bracelets clattering like a handful of coins flung on a table.
click, click
of my sandals breaks the terrible silence. Left foot, right foot, head high, left foot, shoulders back, right foot—right foot! My sandal lands on a long cloak. Its owner, gasping in apology, jerks it away—and my right foot with it. The slippery gold sole flies out behind me as my arms grab at the air. I'm suspended. Time stops. Just me in midair screeching and every single eye glued to me as I crash to the floor, my bracelets clattering like a handful of coins flung on a table.
A winged man picks up my crown, then holds out his other hand to help me up. I take it and come to my feet. My face feels so hot, I must be blushing as red as the rubies in my hair.
Don't even ask me about the rest of it. The man hands me my crown. He's smiling. Everyone in the whole damn room is probably smiling, trying to swallow their snickers.
Somehow I make my way up to the throne. Hades takes my hand and squeezes it as we face the sea of faces together. He doesn't let go. He probably thinks he has to hold me up so I won't fall over again.
I sit and he sits and then an eternity passes. People approach and lay gifts before us. I clutch the arm of the throne so tightly, the three-headed dog carved into the gold bites my hand. People talk and Hades responds, and I don't hear a single word they're saying. So much for being a sponge.
Cocoon
M
y covers weigh me down like a shroud. But the outer world keeps insisting on its existence: I can hear carts clanking outside, and servants bustling somewhere down the hall. I pull the covers over my head. Why does the world of death have to be so damn purposeful? I wish I could rot in peace.
y covers weigh me down like a shroud. But the outer world keeps insisting on its existence: I can hear carts clanking outside, and servants bustling somewhere down the hall. I pull the covers over my head. Why does the world of death have to be so damn purposeful? I wish I could rot in peace.
It's no good. I'm going to have to get up and face it. Them. Everyone who saw me yesterday making my—what was it Hades called it?—my "grand entrance."
I told him, didn't I? I told him back in the vale that I wasn't queen material, and he looked right into my eyes and said it didn't matter.
Ruling is easy
, he said.
I'll teach you
, he said.
Ruling is easy
, he said.
I'll teach you
, he said.
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