The Goddess Test (22 page)

He didn’t meet my eye, and I couldn’t blame him. I’d failed, and now he had to suffer for it.

Caught between anger and despair as the room seemed to press down around me, delivering blow after crushing blow, I wished more than anything that I could turn back the clock to that night in order to stop it from happening. Henry deserved so much more than this, and I wasn’t able to give it to him, no matter how badly I wanted to.

The silence seemed to echo in the ballroom as no one said or did anything. Only seconds passed, but it felt like an hour. As bitter disappointment settled in the pit of my stomach, one rational thought came to mind:

What now?

A noise from behind me caught my attention, and I tried to turn around to see what it was, but any movement now made my chest feel as if it were on fire. I heard the thud of a door closing, and the soft click of heels against marble echoed through the ballroom.

“Sister,” said Henry, his voice full of rich golden warmth that made my pain ebb away. As I looked into the faces of the other council members, I realized they all seemed happy and relieved. And smug, I noticed, glancing at Ava. Even James seemed happy to see her.

“Hello, Henry.”

All the air whooshed out of my lungs as her voice filled my head, chasing away my thoughts until there was nothing left but her. Forgetting the pain, I strained my neck to see her, watching as she greeted all but Calliope with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. Making her way around the circle, when she reached Henry, she stepped into his open arms.

In the back of my mind I realized I was gawking, but I couldn’t stop. She separated herself from Henry and took a seat in the throne next to him, the one made of branches and vines
that had previously been empty, and something inside of me fell into place.

“Hello, Kate,” she said, and I opened and shut my mouth several times, but nothing came out. Finally I forced myself to swallow, and when I managed to speak, it came out more like a croak.

“Hi, Mom.”

My mother looked exactly as she had in my dreams. Healthy and whole, as if she’d never been sick a day in her life. But there was something about her, some indeterminable quality that made her seem as if she were glowing from the inside, like light straining to be released.

“What are you doing here?” As I asked it, I knew it was obvious. The only thing that kept me from seething was my joy at seeing her again, but even that was rapidly being replaced by confusion.

“I’m sorry,” she said with the same sympathetic smile I’d seen on her face a thousand times before. Every time I scraped my knee, every time I dragged home hours of homework and barely had time for dinner, every time a doctor had told us she only had months to live. In so many ways she was a stranger, but with that smile, she was still my mother. “Deception was the only way you could be properly tested. I never meant to hurt you, sweetheart. Everything I’ve ever done was to protect you and to keep you as happy as I possibly could.”

I knew she was telling the truth, but I couldn’t help but feel the humiliation of being duped. Even if it had been for my own good, that didn’t make me feel like any less of an idiot for not realizing who she was.

My own mother was a goddess. It wasn’t something I could simply shrug and accept.

“Diana,” said Walter, and she stepped toward me, the white silk robe she wore moving with her as if she were submerged in water. She wasn’t close enough for me to touch, but close enough for me to see that her eyes were shining. Whether it was from tears or pride or power, like Henry and his eyes made of moonlight, I couldn’t tell.

“For the seventh and final test, pride and humility.” My mother paused and smiled. “Kate passes.”

I didn’t understand. The ruling was over, wasn’t it? Hadn’t their decision already been made? I couldn’t fail any of the tests. Walter himself had said it. I waited for some kind of explanation, but it didn’t come.

“Those who agree?” said Walter.

Wildly I turned from face to face, but none of them gave any hint. Ava, Ella, even Henry gave no sign of what was happening. One after the other they murmured their agreement. To my surprise, Calliope, who looked so pale and miserable that I couldn’t help but feel a stab of sympathy for her, also nodded.

They were saying yes, I realized. They were voting. Even though I’d slept with Henry, by some miracle I hadn’t failed completely. But when the vote reached James, my breath caught in my throat, and I was sure he would shake his head.

Without meeting my eye, he, too, nodded. The others continued to vote, but I stared at him, and when at last he looked up, I mouthed a simple
thank you
.

“So it has been decided,” said Walter when the vote reached him. “Katherine Winters will be granted immortality, and she will be wed to our brother, to rule the Underworld with him as long as she so chooses.” And then he smiled, his ancient eyes twinkling. “Welcome to the family. This session of the council is adjourned.”

The finality in his voice confused me, and dumbfounded, I waited as the council stood and headed toward the door. Some—Ella, Nicholas, Irene, Sofia, even Xander—squeezed my shoulder or gave me a word of encouragement as they passed. Ava grinned widely. Others, particularly Calliope, said nothing as they left. James, too, passed by without a word, his shoulders hunched and his head bowed. Remembering his nod and thinking of what it must have cost him to give it, I wanted to reach out to him, but I was frozen on my stool, unable to move in fear all of this would shatter and reveal itself to be nothing but a dream.

Soon only three of us remained. Me, Henry and my mother. She stood once the others had left, and without a word she enveloped me in her arms, hugging me gently. I rested my chin on her shoulder and buried my nose in her hair. Apples and freesia. It was really her.

I don’t know how long she held me, but by the time we let go of one another, my chest ached and I’d slid halfway off the stool. She helped me right myself, but it was Henry standing a few feet away from us who caught my eye.

“Was—” I paused and cleared my throat, hating how small my voice sounded. “Was that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Henry stepped beside me, and both he and my mother gently helped me stand. “You passed,” he said. “I hope you are pleased.”

Pleased
wasn’t exactly the word for it. Confused, yes. Reeling, sure. And I wasn’t going to be pleased until I understood what had happened. “He said I failed,” I said, wobbling on my feet. “How could I pass after I failed?”

“It was the seventh test, sweetheart,” said my mother. “You did not fail lust. Even if you hadn’t loved him, Henry made sure we were all aware of what happened. This was the only way the council had to test you on your pride. In accepting your failure despite wanting to stay, and in respecting the council’s decision, you showed humility.”

“And by showing humility, you passed the final test,” said Henry.

“So—” I stopped, hating that I felt so slow and stupid, but it felt too good to be true. “What does that mean? What’s going to happen now?”

Henry cleared his throat. “It means, if you agree, we will be married at sunset.”

Married at sunset. What had felt like a far-fetched fantasy hours ago now pressed against me, an impending reality that was hurtling toward me faster than I could run away.

Not that I was running. This was what I’d wanted, wasn’t it? Not to be anyone’s wife, but to give Henry a chance. To give him the same hope I’d wanted for myself, and now with my mother here, even if she wasn’t exactly the same, we’d both won, hadn’t we?

No…not all of us. Calliope hadn’t won, and neither had James. In order for Henry to be alive and happy, in order for me to have my mother back, they had to lose. Calliope had brought it on herself, but James—what had he given up for me to have this?

With a start, I realized both Henry and my mother were staring at me. We’d somehow made it across the ballroom, and now we were stopped between the heavy double doors that were opened wide enough for the three of us to exit.

“Yes, of course,” I said, my face reddening. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t hesitating, I was just—thinking, and—of course I still want to do this.”

It wasn’t until Henry relaxed that I noticed how tense he’d grown. “I am glad to hear that,” he said, his relief plain in his voice. “May I ask what it was you were thinking of?”

I didn’t want to tell him that I was worried about James, in case it was still a sore spot for him, so instead I asked the question that had been burning in my mind ever since Ava had walked through those doors. “Was it all a setup?”

There was an awkward silence, and this time I saw Henry and my mother exchanging looks, as if all they needed to communicate was a glance. It wasn’t so impossible, really, and I bit the inside of my cheek, irritated they weren’t sharing.

“Yes and no,” said my mother. We continued slowly down the hallway, each step more painful than the last, but my injuries were the least of my concerns. “After the decades Henry spent searching for a new queen, when it became apparent his search wasn’t yielding the results we needed—”

“I was going to give up,” said Henry. “Each girl failed before they’d begun, or if they showed any promise at all, they turned up dead. We know what was happening now, but I cannot tell you how heart-wrenching it was to watch those young women die, knowing it was my fault. I could not bring myself to put anyone else in such danger, and I was determined it would end.”

“And I was just as determined that he try until we had no
more time left,” said my mother. “So we compromised. Persephone…” Something in her expression changed, and for the briefest of moments I saw shame. “Persephone was my daughter. Your sister. It’s my fault she was never happy, and because of that, Henry was never happy either.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” said Henry with quiet fierceness. “It was no one’s fault but my own. I am the one who could not make her happy—”

“And I’m the one who pushed you together to begin with,” said my mother. “Don’t argue with me, Henry. I mean it.”

He fell silent, though I thought I saw the barest hint of a smile.

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted.” She ran her fingers through my hair, and I knew she didn’t mean any of the sharpness in her voice. “You always had a choice, sweetheart. If you didn’t want to do this, we would have all accepted it and proceeded without you. You have always been in control of your life—all we did was offer you the opportunity.”

My throat tightened as I imagined what might have happened if I hadn’t. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“It would have given you an unfair advantage,” said my mother. “It needed to be your decision, not one I influenced you to make or one that you automatically rejected because you knew what you were getting into. Besides,” she added gently, “even if I’d told you, would you really have believed me?”

Of course not. And when I left for the real world, who would possibly believe me if I told them how I spent my winters? Nobody sane, I was sure of it. “Does Eden even exist? Everyone there, even Ava and Dylan—was that part of giving me a choice?”

“Eden does not exist outside of the few weeks you occupied it,” said Henry. “If you decide to go back to where the town stood, you will see nothing but trees and fields. I am sorry for the deception.”

So was I. I pursed my lips, trying to come up with something to say that didn’t make me sound like I was twelve. “Just—don’t do it again, all right?” I looked between him and my mother. “No more lies, and no more holding out on me.”

To my surprise, my mother laughed, but it wasn’t the laugh I was used to. It was a strange combination of sounds—a gurgling brook, the chirping of crickets and somehow the first day of spring. It was incredible.

“Of course,” she said, her voice filled with affection that spilled through me and made it easier to walk the next few feet. “Now, before we get to your wedding, is there anything else you’d like to know?”

My wedding. A lump formed in my throat, and it was all I could do to speak around it. “Yeah,” I said hoarsely. “What kind of name is Diana for a goddess, anyway?”

She laughed again, and the knot in my throat loosened. “Ella was rather put out I took her Roman name, but she did not want it, and I’ve always been quite fond of it. We all choose new ones throughout the years.”

“Ones that match where and when we are,” said Henry. “We are most famous within Greek mythology, and that is why we are known throughout by our Greek names.”

“But we have no real names,” said my mother. “We were created before names.”

“And we will survive long after names are needed,” said Henry.

My mother glanced at him. “Some of us, anyhow.”

Her words brought an image of James crashing into my thoughts, and I tried to push it away, but he remained stubbornly in the forefront of my mind. “You’re really the Olympians then?”

“All thirteen,” said my mother. “Plus Henry, on a good day.”

He grunted, and my frown deepened as I struggled to put the pieces together. “Then—who’s who? I mean, I know who you two are, Hades and Demeter, but everyone else?”

“You mean to tell me you haven’t figured it out already?” said Henry. I gave him a dirty look.

“Not all of us are omniscient, y’know.”

“Neither are we,” he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

I chewed on my lower lip as I thought about it. “I could probably guess if I had to. Not all of you though.” I shook my head. “Olympians. That’s—” Incredible. Unspeakable. “A warning would’ve been nice.”

I must’ve sounded bitterer than I’d intended, because my mother hugged me tighter and buried her nose in my hair. “No matter what I’m called or who I am, I’m still your mother, and I love you very, very much.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. She was my mother, but my mother didn’t have laughter that felt like sunshine. My mother gave up her life for me, and what was left of her was cold and stiff. Not this warm, bubbly being who was so much stronger than I would ever be.

“Come,” said Henry, apparently sensing my change in mood. We stopped in front of a pair of richly decorated doors depicting the earth and the world below, and my breath caught in my throat. Persephone’s bedroom.

“Henry?” I said, but he shook his head and offered me nothing but a smile in return. I tugged self-consciously on the white lace of my dress, making sure my bandages hadn’t leaked.

The doors open, and instead of the shrine it had been only months before, it was empty except for a small white arch decorated with a rainbow of daisies. Standing off to the side were nine of the other council members, all but Calliope and James, and Walter stood underneath the arch, waiting for us.

“I hope it will do,” said Henry. “I was not sure if you wanted something more elaborate.”

“No,” I said breathlessly. “This is perfect.”

My mother took my hand, her eyes shining with tears. “That’s my girl,” she said, and even though I never wanted her to leave again, I knew it was time. This was my life now, and while she would always be part of it, she would no longer be the center. It was a shift I hadn’t been expecting, but somehow these past six months had prepared me for it.

I let go of her hand, and she walked away to join the others. Henry led me to the archway, and as Walter spoke, I could feel every eye on us. Henry and I repeated our simple vows, and in a voice with such unshakable authority that the very stones of the manor seemed to quake, Walter proclaimed us husband and wife.

Henry leaned forward to kiss me, and as he did, heat started at my lips and ran through me, leaving coolness in its wake that replaced the pain. By the time he pulled away, my body felt whole again, healed and strong in a way it never had before. But that wasn’t what mattered; what mattered was the way he looked at me, as if this moment were the happiest in his long life. And deep inside of me, I knew I would never be alone again.

We spent our wedding night in my suite playing card games and making every effort to avoid mentioning what would happen the next day. It was my last night in Eden Manor for six months, and even though I knew I would return, something about it felt final. Half a year was no time at all for Henry, but for me, it stretched out in front of me, the end nowhere in sight.