Page 33 of The Queen & the King

Eros takes a sip of the tea and turns to look at me. The sight of the tiny pink and orange china teacup in his large hand would be comical if my brain wasn’t such a mess of questions.

“We’re a lot alike, you know?” he says, putting the cup down.

I tilt my head.He knows nothing about me.

He smiles softly and moves closer. “Everyone tells us we’re one thing, yet deep down, we know we’re something else.”

“What am I?” I ask as if this stranger holds all the answers to such huge questions.

“You are,” he pauses, looking into the distance, thinking, “duality,” he finishes.

My brows furrow more. Something about that statement makes perfect sense.

“One part, the Goddess of Spring. The other is something else entirely. Such a dichotomy would tear apart most gods.” He smirks. “But not you.” He turns on his heel and walks toward the large French doors, walking out into the midnight black of the night. I follow behind, desperate for answers.

Eros walks into the garden, looking up at the stars, twirling his arrow again. I stand next to him, looking up at the same cluster of stars as he.

“What is the other part?” I ask, desperately needing one truth.

Eros looks at me, his smile dazzling. “Well. What is the opposite of life?”

I give him an exasperated look. “Do you always speak in riddles?”

He laughs, such a low and mischievous sound. “Occupational hazard as a trickster.” He looks back up at the stars as if he is simply relaying the messages from them. “I’ll give you a clue. I am the only child of the Goddess of Love and the God ofWar, one part lover and one part fighter.” His face softens with affection when he mentions his mother, but he masks it just as quickly. “If you are one part spring and life. The other part must be the opposite.”

I realize our time is running out, and this riddle will take some thought. I know I need to get to the crux of what I need from him at this moment and worry about this later.

“Please, don’t approve of the match,” I say, looking back up at the stars.

Eros glances at me before sitting at the small wrought iron garden table. “Why not?” he asks, and I glance at him.

I sit in the chair next to him, the cold iron spitting into the back of my thighs. “It’s not right.”

“And what is right, Persephone?” he asks, his gaze wandering around the garden cloaked in darkness. Only the brightest of the flowers are visible in the cool glow of the moonlight.

His question immediately pushes an image of Hades to the forefront of my mind, and I feel my cheeks heat. “I?—”

“I can buy you some time,” Eros interrupts. “But only so much.”

I feel myself relax a little. “My mother mentioned that your mother can also bless the match. Is there any chance she?—”

“No.” Eros’s voice is hard and cold. When I look at him, I notice his face is devoid of all of that playfully smug arrogance. In its place is something fierce and protective.

I swallow, looking away. “All right.”

“I can give you a week,” he says, his voice slightly more relaxed, but I can still hear the strain.

I look back at him, his face more at ease but his eyes still hard.

“Thank you, Eros.”

Eros meets my gaze, searching my eyes. “Did you figure it out?”

I sigh. “The opposite of life is death.”

Eros nods slowly.

“But I have no idea what it means,” I admit.

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