He'd done it on purpose.
To be sure she would have to stay.
Son of a--
Anger kindled, flashing hot through her body, making her hands tremble until she clenched them into white-knuckled fists. So much for Clymenus being an okay guy. If he was willing to trap her in the Underworld then he was as much of a lousy, lying asshole as Deg. Worse even.
But I puked the peach into the bushes. Thank goodness.
But did I get all of it out? Even a seed of their food is too much…
Freddy dashed to grab the metal pot out of her cabinet. She barely made it before she began dry-heaving.
"Mistress, are you all right?"
Freddy fell back from her previously unused chamber pot and wiped her mouth, her head bumping against her floor. "Just nerves, I guess. Stressful day. I'm all right. Go back to what you were doing." Wetness trailed from Freddy's eyes down either cheek to pool in her ears. She cracked one watery eye. Metea cast her a doubtful look then retreated back to the clothing chests.
Freddy set the chamber pot aside and sat on the bed, the note folded in her palm. For a full minute, she could only stare at the letter. It wasn't signed. She didn't recognize the penmanship. It looked over-careful, too neat. Maybe the person who wrote it wasn't used to writing in English? Or they were trying to disguise their handwriting? Or both? Or neither?
She crumpled the note and pressed her palm to her throbbing forehead. Who would do this for her? Cernunnos? No. Why would he? Polydegmon? But the note said not to tell him. Was he covering his ass? If her parents had sent it, they would have told her. Unless Colin had done it, and he wasn't sure she trusted him anymore. He might worry about that after lying to her for her whole life. But he wouldn't have given her a whole jug of wine. Hermes?
Freddy reached for an apple but let her hand drop.
Morrígan. She couldn't get herself down here, but she was a goddess. Surely, the Phantom Queen had power enough to smuggle a basket of poisoned fruit to Freddy. And with all the delicious food Hades had on hand, Freddy might not have eaten the fruit but for the dire warning in the note. How very Evil Queen of her.
Freddy reread the note. Remember Persephone. Persephone…a kidnapping…something about the seasons and a seed and…oh.
Persephone was the Maiden of Spring, until Hades kidnapped her. Her mother got her back, but Hades had tricked the girl into eating three pomegranate seeds in the Underworld. Because of that, Persephone has to return every year for three months, because anyone who eats the food of the Underworld has to stay down there forever and--
Freddy reread the note over and over again. She stared at the basket of fruit. I'm going to be losing a lot of weight.
If she trusted the note.
I'm getting kind of sick of all these notes…
The problem was that the Persephone thing was true. Freddy would be trapped here forever if she ate anything. She had been beyond lucky to have managed not to eat anything yet. But she would have to eat at some point.
Might as well choose now.
On the one hand, she knew Hades and Clymenus would keep her safe. Their food didn't run the risk of being poisoned. This food, it seemed, all too easily could be.
She had a choice then between an eternity apart from her family, or Russian roulette with her life right now. Freddy stared at the basket. She cast a glance back at Metea, who was still bent over her dress.
Freddy looked at the food.
Her stomach growled.
~~~
For the large and magnificent dinner, Metea dressed Freddy in a gauzy gown of palest pink, too sheer for Freddy's tastes. Empress Augusta and her ladies had all been invited to the meal, and dozens of men Freddy had never seen before. Some were dressed in long purple togas, others wore archaic bronze armor and tall crested helmets. The guest list was a strange mishmash of antiquity, and of all the--presumably--dead people introduced to her, not a one seemed to speak English except the Empress. Empress Augusta sat next to her at dinner and spent the whole meal hissing instructions and criticisms under her breath. Freddy picked at the trays of food, and did her best to ignore her.
The small tables and long benches of the night before had multiplied to seat the expanded number of dinner guests with the men and the women separated for this meal. On the other side of the room, Polydegmon sat at a bench with his brother and father. Freddy forced her eyes to stop seeking him, eventually she stared only at her lap.
Clymenus had stopped by before the formal start of the dinner. His eyes still looked sad, and he didn't say much more than hello before he pressed her hand then left.
Freddy's insides swirled, a ball of panic building in the space beneath her sternum. As it was, her hands had begun to shake, and the few times she said anything at dinner her tongue seemed so thick and unmanageable she stuttered. People stopped asking her things.
Freddy looked up with everyone else when a fanfare blew.
Her breath caught. Cernunnos and Morrígan swept into the dining hall with a short train of followers. Hades rose to greet them, Clymenus trailing. With an effort, Freddy stopped herself from looking at Deg.
"Idiot child, go and greet your father." The empress jostled her in the ribs, leaving Freddy breathless, her side throbbing.
Freddy staggered to her feet and shuffled toward the stag-god. He wore layers and layers of bright crimson robes, ornate and heavily embroidered. His sword gleamed gold, and someone, Kore maybe, had wrapped festive red ribbons all round his antlers.
Morrígan glowed at his side, a pale pearl in a simple white gown, her hair loose around her shoulders and down her back. She noticed Freddy's approach first. Her eyes gleamed with malice as her lips turned back in a predatory smirk. She brushed her fingers across Cernunnos' arm. He turned.
Cernunnos' eyes lit with love, with pride. Freddy stopped at this sight of pure pleasure on his face. She couldn't breathe with him looking at her like that. Why is the bastard looking at me like that?
Cernunnos brushed past Hades and practically bounded to Freddy's side. The stag-god lifted her off the ground and kissed her on both cheeks. He grinned at her once he'd set her back on her feet. Freddy had forgotten how his antlers loomed over a person. She had to keep telling herself to look at his face and not the crown of branching spikes. "You look fine, my girl. Practically a native."
Freddy fought the tide of gladness that wanted to wash over her. Why was his presence so jovial, so elevating? Why did her father have to be so charming, so hard to hate? She nodded her chin toward Morrígan, who was busy being flattered by Hades and Clymenus. "Why'd you bring the wife?"
Cernunnos grimaced and dropped his voice. "She insisted. Said since your mother could not be here you would lack for womanly companionship. She's going to, ah, fill in that role for you."
Freddy recoiled in horror. "She's going to stand-in for Mom at my wedding?"
Cernunnos shrugged again, looking uncomfortable. "It's one day."
"One day?" Freddy shook her head. "It's supposed to be the most important day of my life. Sh--she tried to kill me."
Cernunnos caught her by the elbow and pulled Freddy in, his voice a low growl. "She will behave herself. I intend to see you married, my girl. And no one, not the Phantom Queen, not even you, is going to stop the wedding. Yes?"
Freddy winced as his fingers dug into her arm. "Right. Can't wait."
Almost as if sensing her thoughts, Cernunnos gave her a sly smile. He dug into his robes and pulled out a small embroidered bag, well-worn and softened with age. "Your wedding present." He dropped it into her hand.
With a sinking heart, Freddy pulled the strings open and shook the bag's contents into her hand. A lock of hair. One long piece of silky, dark hair.
Her mother's hair.
She gazed at Cernunnos in dismay. He gave her a devilish, knowing smile. "And should you think to disrupt your wedding, let me assure you--I can get more anytime I wish."
Somehow, he got to Mom. And if he did it once
…
She stared at the lock of hair. Her stomach bottomed out and swirled away in a tide of panic that left her light-headed and shaking.
I have to go through with it now. I actually have to go through with the wedding.
Chapter Twenty
Clymenus had spent the whole day prior to his wedding drinking in his villa and continued to shirk his duties as groom. He had abandoned Freddy to this strange new world among harsh foreign customs and stern Roman dowagers. To demand so much of Freddy before deeming her "worthy" to marry his half-brother while never once demanding half so much of Clymenus seemed monstrously unfair.
The day before the wedding passed in a blur as Hades dispatched Polydegmon to gather the important guests from the fringes of the Underworld. Freddy was shut in with the women and would be inaccessible to men until late this evening.
He had not seen her since dinner the previous night, when her face had drained of all color at the Morrígan's entrance. Polydegmon itched to see Freddy again, to check on her. She had seemed shattered yesterday, and it couldn't all have been due to wine sickness.
Someone should have warned Freddy the Morrígan would be coming.
Someone?
Me.
I should have told her myself, instead of hoping another would.
Once he'd carted in the last of the guests, it was so late he had missed dinner. Polydegmon saw to his chariot team, then wandered into the palace. His tired legs led him on, and he stood before her door before he realized where his traitorous feet had carried him.
He turned. Almost left. His feet mutinied and refused to move.
The decision was taken from him as her door creaked open and old Metea stuck her head out. She bobbed a gracious nod, but her eyes glittered with curiosity. "Lord Polydegmon, can I assist you?"
He swallowed and lied outright. "I have a message for the lady from my half-brother."
"Ah. My mistress is alone, preparing for bed." Metea slipped out of the room and winked at him. "So, I shall wait out here while you deliver your message."
Polydegmon shook his head. Metea had been his nurse long, long ago in his youth. She treated him like a naughty young godling still, and indulged him like one. He waggled a finger at her in reproach. "I do not intend to tryst with my brother's betrothed the night before his wedding, old woman."
Metea shrugged and lowered her voice. "I see the way the girl looks at you."
Polydegmon shook his head in brutal denial of Metea's words and the longing they stirred in his heart. He did not need to hear this. Not tonight. Not ever.
"I see the way you look at her." Metea cupped his cheek, her palm rough and warm against his skin. "For no other reason, I would turn a blind eye and a deaf ear."
"Metea--"
"I keep my secrets. And yours." She shooed him away. "Go on."
He growled in exasperation. Why did everyone always assume he did all his thinking with his loincloth?
Well, you always did before…
He still frowned with annoyance at Metea's assumptions as he entered Freddy's room.
Freddy saw the look and frowned back at him, comically drawing her brows down in a smoldering glower. "Hey, what did I do?"
He shook his head and gave a small laugh as he closed the door behind him. If I am to be foolish, I may as well have privacy. "Nothing. Metea."
Freddy snorted, shaking her head as she neatened the fold in one of her packed gowns. "She's a character. Never says a word if she can get away with staying mute."
"Metea has ever been fond of playing the bland servitor."
Freddy nodded and continued to fold dresses. Packing to move to Clymenus' villa, he realized. He leaned on the door harder.
She didn't notice anything, but continued to fold and tuck, putting away wedding presents and her new wardrobe, folding her future into sturdy baskets. Her hands were graceful, her movements sure and economical.
"Should not Metea be doing all this?"
"I'm not used to people waiting on me while I sit on my butt." Freddy very carefully looked anywhere but at him. Her hand twitched once toward a shabby embroidered bag tied to her jeweled belt. He observed the effort as she forced her hand away from it. What did she keep in there?
The words he longed to say burned on his tongue. He swallowed them and made inane chitchat instead. "Do you like your rooms?"
"I miss indoor plumbing."
He frowned and took a moment to remember what she referred to. Then he laughed. "But, you see, Hades objects strongly to modern conveniences. Particularly in his own realm. If modern mortals refuse to honor Hades, he refuses to have anything to do with them. He wouldn't even let me bring my car Below."
"You have a car?" She darted one incredulous look at him before dropping her eyes back to her work.
He opened his mouth to tell her about it, how he'd acquired the machine, where he stored it during the long years he kept away from the mortal world, but then he noticed the faint crease between her brows, a taut line of stress. The story died on his lips. Awkward silence prevailed for several heartbeats.
She broke it first. "Why did you come here?"
"I--" He tried to think of a lie, some convenient excuse. The truth tripped off his tongue instead. "I am worried."
She glanced at him, her cheeks flushed. "What are you worried about?"
"You, my too brave Amazon."
"Don't call me that."
Stung, he clenched his jaw. Then he sighed in acknowledgement. I am an ass. "Beg pardon, Freddy." He paused and, desperate to avoid further discomfort, made more small talk. "And how are the wedding preparations going?"
She leaned her hip on the edge of the bed and shrugged with a grimace. "Empress Augusta did everything. She's pulling the strings, I'm just one of the puppets. My dress is pretty."
Mortals always burned out bright and fast, but she had diminished so fast. A bare week before, she had been a blazing torch. Now, she seemed but a dull automaton for his father's schemes. And Polydegmon still cared for her, still…wanted to be with her. He shook his head, and the thoughts tumbled away. "Did Empress Augusta go through the cleansing rituals with you?"
She would have started the morning with a ritual bath to cleanse her body for her marriage bed. Afterward, on to the household temple to burn offerings to all of Polydegmon's relatives, begging them for a good marriage.
I wonder if anyone bothered to listen.
She chuckled. "Bathing. Burning. Cutting. Check." She pulled her long braid over her shoulder to show him where a good two inches of dark red curls were missing.
After she'd made her offerings, one of the women attending her would have cut off a lock of her hair as a gift to his cousin Artemis, an age-old bid to ease the loss of Freddy's virginity.
His insides heated with the thought. "Di--did they explain why you had to cut your hair?"
She nodded, blushing. "Morrígan did it. Said I should think of her as my own dear mother." She shuddered at some memory and hugged herself.
Fear clogged his throat and sympathy. He'd crossed the room, wrapped his arms around her, before he knew what he was doing. "The empress and Metea were instructed to keep the two of you apart."
"The empress tried, but Morrígan wouldn't have it. She called it her right and duty because she has the closest blood ties to me." She stood rigidly in his embrace but didn't push him away.
He traced a finger along her jaw, then tucked it under her chin. With gentle pressure, he eased her face up. She looked so sad, so tired. So very, very beautiful, stronger than he could even conceive of, never bending under a weight that would have broken lesser mortals. "I wish I could help you." I wish I could deserve you.
Her body trembled against his, thrumming with tension. "Too late, Deg. You can't help me now."
Looking at her, the despair in her face, made something squeeze hard inside of him. "You are right: I cannot. I try to will myself to believe it, to accept it." He swallowed his sorrow and tilted his head sideways in a s
elf-mocking, quizzical expression. "I find it difficult."
"Maybe it needs repeating." She huffed out her breath. "You can't help me, Polydegmon."
He forced his hands to fall away from her soft skin, his feet to carry him back a pace from her. "Is Clymenus treating you well?"
"I…haven't really seen him since the day he showed me the villa. I think he's sad about his mom."
"He should be here to support you. I could speak to him." Cradling her elbow in his hand, he stepped toward her again.
"What's the point? He's the only fiancé I've got, and I have to go through with it or my family might get hurt." Her hand half-moved toward the embroidered bag, but she stopped herself again.
He stared at the soft red curls on her head, catching her scent, aching to tilt her face up and kiss her sadness away. But acting on that impulse would only make things worse. "You deserve better than him."
She looked up, eyes narrowed. "No love lost between you and Clymenus is there?"
Her condemning tone grated on him, chafing his pride. "On the contrary, I owe my very existence to Clymenus and his mother. That is why he hates me so, and why he hates himself, too."
"Clymenus told me." She firmly stepped away, removing herself from the circle of his arms and returning to her endless folding and packing.
He wanted to have her back, but accepted the move and sat on a stool. "My birth was a strange one."
"Your brother bloomed like a plant. How weird could yours be in comparison?"
"When my mother came to the Underworld, Father tricked her into eating some pomegranate seeds--"
"I remember the myth. Eat no food or drink in the Underworld or you may never leave it." She did not glance up as she said it, and for some reason, her cheeks burned in a not unbecoming flush.
Heir to the Underworld Page 21
