Page 17 of The Queen & the King

“Do you have a favorite flower, Persephone?” Eduardo asks me. I can tell he is feeling intimidated by my mother.

I nod. “Roses. I love them. Pink, red, purple, black?—”

“A black rose?” my mother interrupts. “How hideous. Where have you seen such a monstrosity?”

I blink, my brows furrowing as I try to remember when I had seen a black rose before. Suddenly, an image flashes through my mind of a patch of all black roses with one red rose in the middle. A sharp pain shoots through my head, and I whimper.

“Stupid girl,” my mother hisses. “Eduardo, give us a moment alone, please.”

I squeeze my eyes, cradling my head in my hands, the pain radiating through me. I faintly hear Eduardo’s hasty steps as he leaves the room and then feel my mother yank my hands away from my head before slapping me hard across the face. My ears ring, my cheek stings, and the headache throbs, but it’s not like a hot poker anymore. It’s as if that has been removed, and now there is just the throbbing void.

“You have never seen a black rose. You hate black roses. They are hideous,” she hisses, grabbing my face and forcing me to meet her stare. I can hear the words she does not say as loud as the ones she does.

“Hideous, just like the darkness inside you.”

My cheek still stings, and my mother glares at me for another long moment, pouring her fury and disappointment into me. She roughly releases my face and then shifts away from me. She lifts a small bell from the coffee table and rings it to alert the staff that she requires attention.

I try to hold back the tears and humiliation as the bell chimes, and I hear the light footsteps of Margaritte entering the room.

“Tell Eduardo we are ready to continue, Margaritte,” my mother says, resuming her position of intimidating grace. Margaritte gives me a sympathetic look before flitting away to retrieve Eduardo.

Thirteen

Hades

POSEIDON CALLS ME TO THE BANKS OF THE STYX,and I stroll out to meet him. He’s looking out at the river, watching as the latching beasts try to drag the souls to the depths. They will feed on them, suck them dry. Over the years, I developed a form of defense against them. I would need to teach it to Persephone if I ever got the chance. In the deep recesses of my mind, a voice demands I not be so negative. I squash that voice ruthlessly.

I stop on the banks next to my older brother. Normally, I look out over my realm with a sense of pride at all I had built. Now, exhaustion weighs my shoulders down like a cloak. Every time I try to sleep, I wake up a moment later to find that the darkness engulfing my hands has crept a bit higher.

I had caved and asked Zeus about it. He didn’t know what it was, but he had attempted to burn off the darkness with lightning again. It had no effect.

“He told you,” I state baldly, staring out over the river.

“He did,” Poseidon says grimly.

I sigh and wordlessly pull my hand from the glove, showing it to him.

Poseidon tilts his head, studying the darkness staining my skin. “I’ve seen it like this before.”

I turn my head to him in surprise. Poseidon is just staring at my hand.

“When you first summoned your powers,” Poseidon says. “It’s when you give in to the dark emotions you pretend you’re better than.”

I grind my teeth, my temper already short. “I supposed you never cared about anything enough to fear losing it forever.”

I expect a laugh or a snicker. When nothing comes, I glance at Poseidon, blinking in surprise at his forlorn expression.

“You’re not the only one of us who’s fallen in love,” Poseidon whispers, looking at the river again. For a moment, his eyes, which normally resemble a turbulent sea, look lifeless.

“You never said...” I whisper, trying to understand his expression. Poseidon always seemed so carefree. I never thought he felt much of anything.

Poseidon tucks his hands into his pockets. “When I took the crown, he didn’t just step down.”

“I remember. You had to marry one of his daughters.” I am confused. None of this explains what Poseidon meant about falling in love.

Poseidon’s lips twitch. “An arranged marriage to one of his daughters. Too bad I was in love with one of his sons.”

My brain stops working. We Greeks aren’t really tied to any preference when it comes to sexuality, so Poseidon’s statement shouldn’t surprise me, but it does.

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