Page 32 of The Queen & the King

“Who am I meeting with?”

“The God of Love, sweetling,” she replies. Her voice is even, but there is an undertone that dissuades me from asking any more questions until we are no longer in public. Although the cobblestone streets of Olympus are almost empty, the street lights illuminate the pathway home. The sun is long gone, and the moon sits proudly in the sky. The warm glow of the golden hour has morphed into the eerie silvery light of twilight.

The second we walk through the gates, my mother releases my arm and enters the house.

“Mother? The God of Love?” I ask, following behind.

My mother huffs, clearly frustrated. “Some silly formality. A god of love has to approve the match,” she says, disappearing into the living room, and I slowly follow behind. “And the flighty goddess is off somewhere, no doubt sleeping her way through the mortal world.” My mother pauses as she pours three cups of tea. “So, we are stuck with her son. That whole family is an embarrassment.”

I tilt my head, watching her. She rarely gives so much information so freely. She’s obviously stressed about this. Will the God of Love not be willing to bless the match? Could this be my way out? And who is this Goddess of Love?

My brow furrows as I begin to formulate a plan, but it all depends on who this God of Love is and how amenable he will be to listening to me. It is vital I find a way to get him alone.

I taste his magic before I see him. The second I sense his presence in the house, the ring finger on my left hand starts to throb, aching as if I’m missing something. That feeling has been so much more prevalent recently, something feels just barely out of reach. My mother tenses when he arrives. She feels it, too.

My head snaps up when he appears in the doorway. He leans nonchalantly against the mahogany surround, a devilish smirk pulling at his lips. He meets my gaze, and I am immediately taken by him. There is something about him that draws me in. Whether it be his golden hair, his sky-blue eyes, or his sharp jaw, or maybe it’s the effortless way he easily spins an arrow on the tip of his middle finger. He is dressed in a pristine dark -red tailored suit made from what looks like the softest material. The crisp white shirt below is a stark contrast to the suit and perfectly matches his paper-white teeth. My mother places her hand on my shoulder and squeezes hard, pulling me from my stupor.

“If you wouldn’t mind turning your dazzle down slightly, Eros. My daughter is not used to it,” she says with authority and more than a bit of unease.

Suddenly, he no longer draws me in as much. I can see how handsome he is, but it isn’t as maddeningly consuming as before. His sky-blue eyes flash, and he meets my mother’s gaze. I feel her hand tighten on my shoulder, her nails digging in.

“Unwise to keep a God of Love waiting. We are very fickle,” Eros says, his voice like honey.

I feel my mother tense behind me. “You only just arrived.”

Eros’s lips pull into a wicked smile, showing those perfect teeth once again. “Did I? Or did you only feel me arrive when I wanted you to?”

I can practically hear my mother’s jaw tense. The ground beneath my feet shakes slightly, almost as if my mother’s anger is directly responsible. The chandelier tinkles musically as the ground continues to tremble. I glance at my mother. She is wearing the rage on her face proudly as if to scare and intimidate. Eros is the picture of complete ease, continuing to spin that arrow on the tip of his finger. The smirk hasn’t left his lips, and his eyes twinkle with mischief.

I clear my throat, drawing attention to myself, and the second his gaze flits away from my mother’s, the ground ceases trembling.

“I’m Persephone,” I say, tilting my head at him.

Eros quirks a brow as if something has caught his interest. The golden arrow stops, the pointed head turning toward me. He throws it in the air and catches it with impressive ease before it disappears in a puff of red smoke. He bows, keeping his eyes on me. “Eros. At your service.”

I smile brightly, about to respond, when my mother interrupts, “Do we have your approval?”

Eros straightens, slowly looking back at Mother. “We? Are you planning to get married too, Demeter?”

My mother growls. In a flash, Eros summons a new arrow and throws it at my mother. It hits her in the arm before dissipating into a puff of smoke again. With wide eyes, I watch my mother look at her arm, fury blazing in her eyes. She looks up, and all the rage drains from her face. Her body completely relaxes, and she looks almost wistful. She sighs softly and links her arm through mine before gently laying her head on my shoulder, staring dreamily into the distance.

Eros smiles at her. “Be a dear and fetch us some more tea and biscuits? I need to speak to Persephone.”

I blink at my mother, then at Eros, waiting for my mother to throw her full wrath at him. To my surprise, Mother nods and practically glides out of the room, closing the door behind her.

I blink at the closed door.

“It won’t last long on a Primordial power but long enough for us to talk,” Eros says, walking to the tea trolley and picking up one of the dainty pre-filled cups.

“Talk?” I ask, blinking at him.

Eros’s lips twitch. “You have questions. I have answers.”

I glance back at the door. “What answers do you have?”

“What questions do you have?” he retorts, smirking.

“I–I’m not sure.”

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