Clymenus clasped her arm. "Come to the garden. I wanted to show it to you anyway."
Freddy straightened once she stepped outside and sucked in a breath. He sat her on a cool marble bench against the garden wall. She put her head between her legs. Clymenus rubbed her back. "Should I send for a servant?"
She waved him away and worked on getting herself back in order. "It's the heat. And I haven't eaten yet." Her loyal stomach backed her up with a loud gurgle. She hadn't even drunk so much as a glass of water. Her hangover still hovered around the edges of her skull. Her mouth was dry and manky. She pushed the ache of her body back, sat up, and smoothed the tension from her face. "Show me your garden?"
Clymenus beamed in startled pleasure, his whole face transformed into a very appealing sight indeed. For a brief flash, he reminded her of his brother. The half-god always looked handsome, but just then he was engaging as he had never been before. Freddy smiled back. He caught her by the hand and led her through, deeper inside, to the heart of his house.
Literally, the heart of the house, as it turned out. The garden lay inside the walls of the villa, an open courtyard with a shady roofed walk around its perimeter.
The day was beautiful, the sun a juicy tangerine, the air all around fragrant and fresh. Freddy let her nostrils flare and catch the sweet garden smells, blooming flowers and sun-kissed grass, turned earth and new growth.
High poplar trees, long and skinny, soared into the pale pink sky. The garden hummed with insects busy at work, and the wind whistled with a soothing rush over all, stirring leaves and caressing Freddy's skin with pleasant warmth, mild and soft.
Clymenus plucked a peach from one of his trees. "Here. You said you have not eaten."
Freddy accepted the fruit, the skin felt fuzzy and soft, warmed by the sun. She lifted it to her mouth but stopped before taking a bite.
Clymenus was watching her, almost holding his breath as he waited for her to eat.
She frowned at him. "What?"
He waved his hands. "But nothing. Nothing. Eat."
She hesitated then sunk her teeth in. The peach tasted ripe and succulent with the perfect amount of tart. She wolfed it down to the pit before she had gone more than a few steps.
Clymenus grinned at Freddy. "This way." Taking her by the hand through a walk of tiny, star-shaped white flowers, he led her into a plain courtyard. A tall plant grew in the single little plot of dirt. The graceful plant stood tall, its leaves green and full. At the top, the plant was crowned by a cone of pale purple blossoms bursting into bloom with delicate dangling fibers. A strong minty smell filled the isolated nook, and a bench lay across from the lonely little plant.
A tinkling fountain sat beside it, with a marble statue of a beautiful woman in the middle of its pool. Tiny springs shot from the base at her feet to stream into the water below. She was naked, but her tangle of long hair artfully covered her breasts. A demure, teasing smirk played about her lips as she stood with one hip cocked and arms held out in welcome.
Clymenus went to the statue and traced his fingers across the dainty marble features. "My mother." He flashed a wan smile back at Freddy.
Freddy nodded politely, unsure what the proper response would be. "It's a…very pretty statue."
Clymenus motioned for Freddy to sit beside him on the bench. She did, careful to leave enough room for two people to sit between them, in case Clymenus decided to go all Mr. Grabby Hands on her.
"Frederica." Clymenus sighed. "This is my mother."
He was pointing at the plant.
Chapter Eighteen
Freddy blinked and glanced again at the thin green plant swaying in the breeze. "Oh. Really? Um…"
Clymenus' mouth quirked. "I forget. You know so little of our ways. My mother was once as you see her in that statue. Her name was Menthe, and she was a naiad--a water nymph. Lithe, fluid, and surpassingly beautiful."
Freddy's memory prickled. "Your mother's not Persephone?" Was that the right name for Hades' wife? How Freddy wished she'd paid better attention in Freshman English.
Clymenus shook his head. "Long ago Hades took Persephone for his bride. But his queen would not grant him the rights due a husband. Hades fell in love with my mother and she him. Persephone found out. She had not wanted Hades, never wanted him, in fact, but to have her husband cavorting with a nymph was not something to be borne." His hands fisted on his knees, his whole body tensing. "Persephone decided the time had come to do her wifely duties by Hades. But for her revenge, she turned my mother into a plant." He motioned to the plant.
Freddy's brain and mouth were unequal to the task of saying anything in response. She only stared at the plant, transfixed, and a desperate sort of white noise settled around her mind, blanking out where the thoughts would be.
Clymenus didn't seem to notice. He breathed once through his nostrils and uncurled his fingers, smoothing the lines of his tunic. He kept his voice light, but his whole body vibrated with tension. "Hades transferred my mother here. He created this sanctuary for her, built the whole villa around her for me."
Freddy wet her lips. "He can't turn her back?"
Clymenus gave a small jerk of his head. No. There was a world of pain in that small motion.
Freddy stared at the ground and frowned in sudden sympathy with Clymenus. She was a godly bastard herself, after all. Her low key reaction was probably a testament to how much she'd seen in the last few days--that someone's mother being turned into a plant didn't make her bat so much as an eyelash. A week ago, she would have thought Clymenus was a total fruit loop.
She reached over and clasped one of his soft, elegant hands in both of hers. "How old were you when she," Freddy shook her head and faltered, "when it--when…" She gave up and gestured to the plant.
Clymenus scrubbed at his lips with the back of his hand. "When my father moved her to safety, he cut himself with one of the tools. A single drop of his blood fell into the heart of the plant. The plant bloomed a few months later. I was inside. It infuriated Persephone, but Hades protected me as he did not protect my mother." His eyes darkened. "My birth did, however, make Persephone redouble her efforts to get a child. Eventually, she bore my brother Polydegmon. At last, a Pureblooded Heir for the Underworld, something I could never be." He sighed and turned to her. His eyes softened. He traced the dip of Freddy's shoulder with a fingertip. She shivered at the touch, unsure whether she'd enjoyed it or not. Clymenus' voice deepened, husky with emotion. "Frederica, I do not want you to fear me. I want us to be able to speak to each other as equals. I want our marriage to be a good one." He raised her hand to his lips. Staring into her eyes, he turned it to kiss her palm, too. "I want you to care for me."
Freddy stared at Clymenus, studying his face, gazing into his pale gray eyes. He seemed sincere. Of course, Clymenus' brother had told some massive whoppers and his father was no saint. But Clymenus was going to be her husband. For no other reason than that still somewhat surreal one, she ought to give him a chance. She swallowed and met his eyes. "I want all that, too."
"That pleases me." His glance slid back to the fragile plant, and he frowned. "The women will be expecting you in the throne room. Do you remember how to get back?"
"Sure." She stood and turned to him. "You're not coming?"
"I will by and by. I wish to spend some time with her whenever I come here." His voice caught as he motioned to the plant.
Something twisted in Freddy's gut. "Does she…can she hear you?"
"I think so. But I do not know." Clymenus shrugged uncomfortably.
Freddy squeezed his shoulder through the supple fabric of his tunic. "I'll see you later."
Clymenus pressed her hand to his cheek, his skin soft and warm beneath her palm. Freddy patted his shoulder, then left Clymenus with his mother's garden.
She looked back once at his slumped, sagging form, his head bowed as he stared at his mother the weed. Shaking her head, Freddy stomped out of the garden.
I am so sick of this place. These
people. They plot and scheme and hate each other, moving their children and lovers and spouses like pieces on a board. They don't care what they do. Who they hurt. Nothing matters to them. And I'm stuck. I'm in it to my neck. I'm…
I'm one of them.
Her stomach churned. She barely made it back out through the villa and into the shrubbery before the peach came hurling up. Dry-heaving for a few more moments even after her stomach emptied, she rolled herself into a clean patch of grass. Curled around her cramping midsection, her eyes blurred with tears while her throat continued to burn from the stomach acid.
I hate it here. I hate Morrígan. I hate Cernunnos. I hate my mother for letting this happen. I hate--
Deg turned her over. His face contorted in a look of horror as he gathered her into his lap, secure in the circle of his arms. "Freddy?"
She gave a hysterical little laugh. This guy--god--always seemed to fall from the sky. Always there when she needed him. She fisted her hands in the heavy wool of his cloak and cry-laughed against his neck as he rocked her.
"No. Not this. Anything but this." His voice was ragged and rising, hoarse with distress.
Why did he sound so awful?
"I will kill him." Deg's head snapped toward the villa.
She sniffed and sat back. "What happened to you?"
Deg's brow furrowed as he studied her face. "It is you who concerns me. My half-brother--" He broke off and swallowed. "Did he--did Clymenus claim his betrothal rights? Did he…" Deg flushed beet red.
"No." Freddy dug herself out of his lap. She scrubbed her nose with the back of her hand and drew herself up with dignity. "He showed me his--our--the villa. He also told me what your mother did to his."
Deg winced and looked away. "Ah, yes. Poor Menthe."
Freddy gaped at him. "That's it? Menthe got turned into a plant. Your mother. Turned her. Into. A plant."
"I am aware," he snapped back.
"Wow." She leaned away from him, appalled by his attitude. "I guess a girl has to let you get to second before you can conjure up some sympathy."
Deg planted a fist on the grass and leaned into her. He gritted his teeth. "Such is the way of the gods, Frederica. I thought you had learned that."
"That could have been my mother if Morrígan was the gardening type." She glared at him. "Do you even get it? Can you try to imagine for one second what that would be like? Menthe's worse than dead. It must be torture for him. To know his mother's alive, that she might still be in there. And…and…" She scrubbed a hand over her face and whipped her head away. Even looking at Deg made her hurt inside. "I hate gods." Her voice came out as a whiny croak.
Deg placed his palm flat across his eyes and leaned an elbow on his knee. Freddy watched him for a long moment, but it didn't seem he was going to say anything.
She grimaced in his general direction, disgusted with him, with his whole family, with the whole race of gods. She gathered her stained skirts and staggered to her feet. "I should go back. Clymenus said they wanted me in the throne room."
She had started down the path before he spoke. "Freddy. I have something for you."
He withdrew a paper from the folds of his cloak and held it up, pinched between two fingers. The paper was an envelope, a crisp, white, business-sized envelope. A small piece of normal, of the modern world--and totally out of place in the elegant, outdated grayness of the Underworld.
She bolted forward, then hesitated, suddenly wary, worrying what the catch was. "What is that?"
"An envelope, so I'm told."
"Duh. What's in it?"
Deg tossed it onto the grass and folded his arms around himself. "Take a look."
Freddy bent and plucked it from the grass. Her hands began to shake as she saw her name written on the back of the envelope in her mother's bold, careful scrawl. Her knees collapsed, and she thumped into the grass. She darted a look up. "Deg?"
"Read it."
Freddy nodded, and nearly ripped the envelope in half to get at its contents.
Baby-doll, her mother wrote. I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you about all of this. I tried to so many times. Dad Colin wanted to tell you but I would never let him. And I just never seemed able to find the words. And now there aren't any words at all to tell you how much I regret keeping you in the dark. We're going insane, Colin and me. Worrying about you. Don't you worry, though. We'll think of something. You're coming home to us, Freddy.
Don't worry, baby.
Love you SO much,
Mom
Freddy turned the letter over and reread it, but saw no note, no word from Da--from Colin. She pinched her lips closed in disappointment. She read the letter again and tried not to be too infuriated at her mother's misty promises to get her back somehow.
Without help, without powers, without a plan of any kind.
Choking back tears, Freddy pressed the letter to her heart before she stuffed it back in its envelope and tucked it under her robes.
Her mother could be the Eternal Optimist, but Freddy was drowning in reality here. If she tried to walk away--and managed not to get caught or eaten or beaten or killed--she would still have to worry about Cernunnos going after her parents and Morrígan coming after her.
The Underworld was new and exotic, and, aside from letting her get stupid with wine, they weren't hurting her. To risk her parents' lives because she didn't want to get married seemed like a totally dumb idea. Clymenus would be fine. Her life would be fine here. Everything would be…
Freddy pressed her palms flat against her eyelids and pushed the tears back up their trails. She sniffed once and gulped in her grief, her sadness, stuffing them down deep. "Deg?"
His face was pinched with concern. "Are you all right?"
Freddy caught her lip on her teeth and gave a drawn smile, trying to hide how totally not okay she was. "I will be. Thank you for the letter. It'll be nice to have."
He ducked his head and spread his empty hands out. "I wish I could give you more. I wish--"
"No. Don't. There's no point wishing, is there?"
He huffed out a sigh. "I suppose not." He caught her hand, his skin warming hers, acting as balm on a burn, soothing. But he only pressed her hand once then pulled away.
Just as well. After all, she shouldn't be having the warm and mushies for Deg anymore anyway. Lest she forget--Clymenus was in the picture.
Clymenus was the entire picture, in fact.
She pushed to her feet and started back toward the palace.
"Freddy." His voice sounded gruff, no better than a whisper.
"Yeah, Deg?"
He let his hand fall away from his eyes. His face looked strained, haggard, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. "I am glad Clymenus did not hurt you." He raised his eyes to hers. They were dark with emotion--regret, anger, sadness. All the things she couldn't say to him quickened and swirled in the air between them.
Freddy lurched one step toward him then stopped. "I have to go."
Deg bobbed his head in acknowledgement, looking wretched and beaten.
Freddy half-skipped and broke into a run, which was the only way she stopped herself from going back.
Whether she wanted to kill Deg or cling to him she didn't know, and it wouldn't be a good idea to find out.
Chapter Nineteen
When Freddy entered the throne room, a great horde of women descended on her. They were all very upright and proper, dignified to their eyeballs. She met Roman empresses and many old lovers of gods--princesses, queens, noblewomen, and shepherdesses. She lost track of names very quickly, except for Empress Augusta, of course.
Empress Augusta, with a few of the other women, towed Freddy off to a side room filled with an ominous amount of fabric.
"Now," Empress Augusta said as if announcing a siege, "time to get to work on your wedding chiton." Much prodding and measuring ensued, and they kept Freddy on her feet for the rest of the day. The women gossiped with each other in several languages Freddy didn't have the faintest idea how to speak.
After a time, Dryope fought her way through the crowd and spent a companionable half hour sitting by Freddy's side and saying nothing. Her kindness was the only good part in a truly craptacular day.
By evening, a length of fabric had been coaxed into a Freddy-like shape. Empress Augusta dismissed Freddy to her room to dress for dinner, and Metea gasped in melodramatic dismay when Freddy slunk back into her room. The maid scolded her in ancient Greek, and all but ripped the ruined dress off. Freddy found a loose-fitting robe to cover herself while her maid dealt with the dirty garment. She sat on the bed, waiting to begin the elaborate ritual of dressing for dinner.
Metea turned back halfway to the trunks of clothing. "I have forgotten. Apologies, mistress. A basket of fruit and breads arrived for you."
"Who's it from?"
Metea cocked one eyebrow. "As the note was addressed to my mistress and not myself, I did not read it."
"Right." Freddy went to examine the basket, filled high to the sturdy handle with a range of fruits, vegetables, several long loaves of bread, and one large jug each of water and wine underneath the food. She frowned and dug out the note.
Hello Frederica,
Consider this food and my warning a wedding present. All of the food is fresh and under magical compulsion not to rot. It should last you a month--longer perhaps if you eat sparingly. The liquid jugs are magical and will refill themselves.
Now, the second half of my present, a warning--Remember Persephone. Do not eat the food of the Underworld. Do not eat anything that is given to you. Not even by Lord Polydegmon. Do not drink anything. Do not eat so much as a seed. If you do, no one Above will ever be able to pry you free from the Greeks. While you live Below, eat only from this basket.
Ignore this advice at your peril. If ever you want to see your home again, eat only what I have given you.
Do not tell anyone about this gift. Do not show this note to anyone. Do not let them know you are not eating their food.
As she read, Freddy caught her breath and spent a frenzied minute reviewing the last two days. She had eaten so much at her welcome banquet. But no, Hades had brought special food from Above for Hermes. Why hadn't she paid attention then? Today…no breakfast…no water…no wonder she'd had a headache when Clymenus showed her through his place--The peach. And he'd handed it to her without saying a thing. He'd watched her eat it. He'd--
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