"Exactly. So, my mother ate three seeds. Thus the three months she must spend in my father's realm each year. Those were the original terms of the forfeit for eating the food."
"I sense there's a 'but' to this story?"
"Ah, but one day after her return to Olympus, my mother began to experience severe stomach pains. My grandmother, Demeter, in fear for her precious daughter, called in the great physician Asclepius to tend her. Asclepius was said to be able to heal anything, even death. He induced my mother to vomit up whatever had so offended her stomach. I emerged first, then my brother Eubuleus, and Kore last. Three seeds, three children." He spread his hands out. "The forfeit is paid, no?"
"So you came from a seed? That's how the wacky mythology works, right? Babies from body parts, springing out of brains and legs. Golden showers impregnating people. Horny swans running around all over the place. That kind of thing?"
Polydegmon grinned at her colorful descriptions. "Exactly. My father, metaphorically speaking, of course, implanted his seed in my mother when she ate the pomegranate. When she birthed the three of us, the seeds were--metaphorically--returned."
"Right. Regurgitation with extras." She dimpled at him, and his heart ached for a moment at the sight.
How many days have passed since I have seen her smile? But he made a sour face at her, pretending to be highly offended. "Thank you so much."
She laughed under her breath. "Hey, this is a weird conversation. So…Persephone doesn't have to visit the Underworld anymore?"
"Demeter sought to give us to Hades and free Persephone of her obligation to return. But my mother defied her and kept us. Loved us. In exchange, she returned every year to Hades' realm for her three-month sojourn as the Queen of the Underworld."
An odd, arrested look crossed her face. "Leading to shorter winters, longer summers?"
"Demeter has no need to make the earth barren and cold if she has her daughter with her."
She blinked. "Your family is responsible for global warming?"
"I do not know what that means."
She laughed and waved her hands. "It's not really funny. It's just…" But then she had to stop, she was laughing too hard. "It's just too insane," she managed to gasp out between whoops. She breathed deeply, slowly to calm herself. "When did my life become so nuts?"
He flinched with guilt. "The day you met me, I would wager."
She stopped laughing. "You're right."
His palms itched to touch her again. I should go. He couldn't imagine how he would deal with the wedding tomorrow when just seeing her made him hurt inside. Watching her wed Clymenus would hurt beyond bearing.
As if sensing his thoughts, she said, "Are you coming to the wedding?"
"Do you want me there?"
She nodded slowly, watching his face. "Yeah. I think I do."
"Then I will be there."
She toyed with the fringe of one of her dresses. "What will the wedding be like?"
He drew in his breath and fisted his hands to keep from reaching for her. "The women didn't explain anything?"
"They were too busy making the dress when I got here. Today, they were too busy making me burn all the incense in the palace and chop off my hair." Her fingertips brushed his arm. "Tell me?"
"Well…" He stood and made her sit on the bed. Holding her soft braid, he put a prim expression on his face. "The women will arrange your hair. Six sections and an elaborate net. It'll take hours. Brace yourself." His fingertips traced her forehead and combed tangled curls that had fallen free of her braid back from her scalp. "They'll do all the parts with a spear point."
"A spear? Hey, just how many brides have been scalped over the years?"
"It is not sharpened."
"Okay. What else?"
He cast around and saw her pile of garments. Fetching a veil, he arced his arm through the air to let the gauzy fabric glide by their heads. "The veil."
"You should have seen the veil they tried to stick me with. Orange. Orange with this hair." She brandished her titian braid for emphasis.
Polydegmon grimaced in sympathy. Most brides in his family had dark or blond hair. Not too many redheads to complain about the traditional color choice. "And did you change their minds?"
She crossed to her pile of wedding clothes, whipped the pale ivory veil off the top, and pinned it lopsided onto her head. He walked to her and righted the veil on her head, draping the gauzy folds to frame the pale oval of her face. He eased back to examine the effect. "You were right to protest the orange. White is much better."
Her dimple dipped like a curtsy just under the edge of her mouth. "What happens next?"
Clearing his throat, he wiped all signs of tender feelings from his face and made his voice didactic and dry. "There will be a large bridal breakfast here for the guests. Then a bit of play-acting at the door. After that you will say your vows."
The dimple disappeared and she jerked her head away. "What are the vows? No one told me."
"Your father will hand you over to Clymenus. Knowing Cernunnos, there will be a speech." He rolled his eyes hugely and caught a flash of her smile. Then he remembered her question and sobered. "When your father gives you to Clymenus you will say 'Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia.'"
She tipped her face up and he remembered how tall she was; easy to forget his Amazon's true form when she hid it so well beneath the trappings of a demure young maiden. He would hardly have to bend at all to kiss her. A rare find among women.
He blinked in surprise to find himself so close to her but he didn't step away.
"What does it mean?"
He shook his head to shuffle his thoughts back in order. The vows…yes…"Where thou art Gaius, I shall be Gaia."
"What does the groom say?"
He set his teeth and sighed. "Ubi tu Gaia, ego Gaius. Where thou art Gaia, I shall be Gaius."
She wet her lips. "Ubi tu Gaius…e--ego Gaia." She darted an anxious look at him. "Did I say it right?"
"Yes."
Her head drifted down to rest against his shoulder. She sucked in a deep breath, then another. His arm wrapped around her, for her comfort, and not his own consolation, of course. He forced his voice to be light, casual. "The name Gaius is lucky, a good omen. These vows are old as the earth, potent."
And she will exchange them with Clymenus. Sour bile rose in his throat.
Something in his tone must have startled her because she looked at him again. Her hand rose to cup his cheek. She gulped, hesitant. "Deg…I…" Her lips trembled, moisture pooled in her eyes. "Deg, ubi tu…ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia."
Polydegmon squeezed his eyes closed, his hand trailed over her arm and rested atop her hand on his cheek, holding her fingers there, never wanting to let go, to leave this moment. He rattled a breath into his constricting chest. "Ubi tu Gaia, ego Gaius." He whispered the words, reverent, moved, as sincere as the day he had sworn by the river Styx to protect her. "Where thou art Gaia, I shall be Gaius." Even with his eyes closed, he swore he knew how far she stood from him, how many bare finger lengths separated his lips from hers. Her breath caught on a small sob, and she tilted toward him.
He cared for her, wanted so much for her to be happy--with him, without him. Her fragrance drifted over his senses, making his nerves vibrate with pleasant tension. Her body curled against his, soft and warm, while her fingers traced the line of his jaw, nestled in his hair. Her breath stirred against his skin, her body leaned into his. Every nerve he had strained toward her touch. Her voice whispered like a caress over him, "Does the wedding ceremony end with a kiss, Deg?"
"Not usually," he croaked out.
And then he kissed her.
Her arms came around him, her body melted with his, soft and strong, tight and long. Loosening her braid, his fingers nestled into cool hair soft as silk, and the sated longing in his body became a physical ache. He savored her mouth, tasted her, reveled in touching her.
This embrace was so good, so right. His skin tingled all over, his very bones thro
bbed with how perfectly she fit in his arms.
The door banged open as Clymenus stepped into the room.
Chapter Twenty-One
Clymenus snarled in rage and lunged for Deg, knocking Freddy aside so she staggered back.
The brothers jostled together, swinging and missing. Spit flew from Clymenus' mouth as he screamed, probably obscenities--though it was all Greek to Freddy.
Deg looked equally livid, his muscles taut under his skin when he darted a nervous glances at her. Clymenus took advantage and clipped him on the jaw, sending Deg backward over her trunk to land sprawling on the carpet.
She hopped over the debris of the fight and jumped between them. "Stop."
Clymenus backhanded her hard across the mouth. "Whore."
Her head whipped sideways from the blow, but she didn't fall. The skin of her cheek throbbed, but she'd been hit harder by accident in sparring. She clapped her hands to her sides, fighting every instinct in her body that called for Clymenus' blood; the night before her wedding was absolutely the worst moment to get into a fistfight. With her groom. If it got back to Cernunnos…she choked her rage down.
Deg scrambled to his feet, but she turned to stop him from going after his brother again. "Deg, no. Clymenus has a right to be mad." Her shoulders hunched, like an old, old woman, her body drooping with sudden, unbearable weariness. "We shouldn't have done that."
"Do not defend him. He is a nasty, spiteful little--"
Freddy shoved Deg out of the room and stepped into the hallway behind him. Clymenus started to follow, but she slammed her door in his face.
In the hallway, she dropped her voice low, "Deg, I have to marry him." Or else. Her thumb restlessly rubbed along the bag with her mother's hair. She searched Deg's eyes, but the fight had hardened all the emotion in him, and his usually animated face had become an expressionless mask. "Deg?" Her voice cracked, aching for some familiarity, some comfort in the cold dark of the Underworld.
Deg's mask cracked, his face crumpling with grief and sadness. "Freddy--"
But she stepped back even as he reached for her, putting her hand on her door. I'll only be stupid again if he touches me. "Clymenus and I will sort this out. Go now, please."
Deg cast her an uncertain glance.
Her door opened, and she barely stopped herself from falling. Clymenus glared back and forth at the two of him. Deg glowered back fit to do Hades proud but, after one last look at Freddy, he finally stalked off down the hall.
Heart heavy, Freddy crossed back into her room, and Clymenus closed the door after her.
"I see no one has warned you--Polydegmon believes women are for his pleasure and naught else. He may be full of warm looks and sweet words now, but once he's gotten under your skirts you will be dead to him."
His face looked strained and unpleasant, but the hurt in his eyes shamed her. For a brief moment, he reminded her almost of a neglected child, never picked to play ball. She winced inside. How many girls over the years, the centuries, must have picked Polydegmon over Clymenus? How many times must his father have passed Clymenus the Bastard over to favor Polydegmon the Heir?
She couldn't help her feelings for Polydegmon, but she really had been unfair to Clymenus. He'd been respectful of her the few times they'd talked, and now he'd walked in on her with his glorious full-blood brother. The Heir to the Underworld who always got what Clymenus wanted.
Embarrassed heat fanned over Freddy's cheekbones. "We only kissed. Nothing happened."
Clymenus' injured look swept away, and his too pretty face settled into a cool look of disdain. "You are to be congratulated then. You would be the first mortal to resist my brother in several centuries. And they are a particular specialty of his." His gaze raked over her in an offensively frank way. "It matters little to me whether my brother has had you or not. Your father assured me you had been declared a virgin, but he paid well enough for me to take you either way."
Thanks, Cernunnos. What a great catch. Freddy wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Look, I know you're mad. It won't--"
"I will not be cuckolded by my own brother." Clymenus grabbed her wrist to pull her close. He leaned in, his breath still stale from a day of drinking. "Polydegmon does not need another notch on his bedpost. I expect you to keep your damn legs together."
And just like that, my sympathy is gone. Freddy twisted her wrist free, feeling her flesh bruise. "I get it."
Clymenus gave her a sharp, thin smile that was no smile at all. "I hope for your sake that you do."
"You can leave now."
His hand cupped the back of her neck and squeezed hard, his fingers digging in. "Rest well. Tomorrow we wed."
She shoved him away. He stumbled, then straightened with a dark look and left.
Freddy rubbed the back of her bruised neck. My husband, ladies and gentlemen.
Tomorrow.
Oh, no. Oh, God.
Her knees went all gooey, and she sank to the floor. Metea limped in from the hall and knelt next to her.
Freddy let herself be tucked in like a small child and cried into the older woman's neck. Eventually, she pretended sleep, and Metea left to deal with last minute wedding prep. Once it became apparent that real sleep was not happening, Freddy pushed back her covers and lit a candle.
She cradled the lock of her mother's hair for a long time. How can I possibly go through with this wedding?
Maybe Mom wasn't really in danger. Maybe Cernunnos was bluffing. He could have already had the hair. Mom might have given it to him back in their Glory Days.
But Freddy didn't know, couldn't be sure. This was the same, the exact same situation from the clearing. Cernunnos had a gun to her mother's head. And now, as then, Freddy couldn't bring herself to call Cernunnos' bluff.
She didn't have a plan to escape anyway, right? What was she really losing?
Everything.
She dropped the hair back into the bag then dug her mother's letter out from under her pillow. She reread it for the hundredth time since Deg had given it to her. The paper, half-ripped along one fold, had already become soft and creased with over-handling. Tears stained it.
'You're coming home to us. Don't worry, baby.'
Freddy laughed to herself. Had Mom intentionally invoked The Beach Boys in her letter? She refolded the letter with brisk, jerky movements and stuffed it into its envelope.
She held the envelope in her lap a long time, stared at her name written there until the letters blurred. This was it. All she had of her parents--well, Mom, since Colin hadn't seen fit to write anything. This was it. This pathetic scrap of paper and cheap glue was all she had of her family.
She snatched at the letter. Her fingers itched, aching to tear the paper in two and sever all the ties now. End it, forget it. Push them out of her mind, secure in the knowledge that she'd at least bought their safety. Destroying the letter might make it easier to start over, to reconcile herself to whatever life she'd have with Clymenus.
She held her breath, poised to do it.
At the last, she sighed and stopped herself, lowering the letter and turning it over and over in her hands.
Her eyes caught at something written along the envelope's front flap. She swallowed as she realized Da--Colin had written the words. She narrowed her eyes and dashed tears away so she could decipher the tiny, almost miniscule black scrawl.
Wait and hope, was all that was written there.
"Wait and hope?"
She leaned back in bed, her brain humming…
Forever's a long time. Just because I get married tomorrow doesn't mean I have to be stuck for good. Even if…even once Clymenus has…
She shook her head to clear her dark thoughts.
Wait and hope.
Something might turn up. Something might change. Just wait. And hope.
Oh, Daddy. Freddy's breath sputtered. She gasped back tears and kissed the envelope, holding it close as the memory of her parents. "Thank you, Dad. Thank you."
Wait and hope.
<
br /> I can.
I will.
~~~
The fact Freddy made a lovely bride did not surprise Polydegmon. The fact he somehow maintained his sanity over the course of the wedding day did.
Her gown shown a pure, pale white with golden designs embroidered into it. The gold-fringed shawl they draped around her had still more of the burnished embroidery. Her hair poofed up, but the ladies had hidden it beneath the long white veil. Someone had stained her cheeks with wine dregs and lined her eyes with charcoal, but beneath the make-up, her eyes were shadowed and sad, her face pale. She was the most blatantly miserable bride Polydegmon had ever seen.
And he could not go to her, could offer no comfort.
Lately, Polydegmon had considered himself to be a rather useless excuse for a god. He could not please his father. He had not saved Kore. And now, he had failed Frederica, too, when she had never failed him. His gut churned with self-disgust, and he remained perpetually overheated, anxious.
Clymenus had gone to Hades about the previous night's incident. The Lord of the Dead would allow Polydegmon to attend the wedding--required him to, in fact. What would it look like to all the guests if Polydegmon were absent, after all? However, if he made one move toward Frederica, enacted one misstep, said one wrong thing, Hades would disown him and banish Polydegmon from the Underworld. And that would only be the beginning of Hades' retribution.
So Polydegmon could see her, and watch, and die slowly from moment to moment.
The breakfast went well enough. With a sinking sadness, he watched Freddy eat her fill. So much more than a seed. And Hades would have made sure everything the bride ate was from the Underworld and not Above. No way to spirit her away now even if he did have the courage for it.
During the vows, no inauspicious omens arose to prevent their successful exchange--despite Polydegmon's frenzied prayers for some. The procession from the palace to Clymenus' villa ran long and loud, rank upon rank of dead souls and visiting gods ranged down the walk through the gardens. The spectators waved palm fronds wound with multi-colored ribbons, and threw walnuts along the path. Their cheering sounded loud and never ending in Polydegmon's head.
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