Page 6 of The Queen & the King

IT’S STILL STRANGE TO BE ABLE TO MOVE FREELY AROUND OLYMPUS.For so many years, I knew only my house. I’ve walked the halls so often that I could don a blindfold and still easily make my way from one end of the house to the other without colliding with anything.

My mother says that this was always the plan, that this is the appropriate age for me to make my entrance into society with a chaperone, but I’m still an outsider. People are looking at me, perceiving me, regarding me. I don’t blame them for their questioning stares. I imagine it must be strange to see Demeter’s best-kept secret. Most of them acknowledge me with interest. Some have more somber expressions, but the worst is when I can see fear in their eyes. Do I look like I should be someone to fear?

I’ve seen Olympus in books, and through the pictures, I could appreciate the beauty of it, but there was always an undercurrent of resentment. I longed to walk the streets as I’m doing now, to see something different.

I take in the gardens of the other dwellers, appreciating their beauty. These plots aren’t all carefully landscaped likemy mother’s garden, and it amuses me to consider what my mother’s reaction would be to see gardenias and pansies in the same patch. I move closer with my chaperone trailing me. I hear someone calling to someone. The affectionate nickname makes me smile, but I don’t look up, not wanting to intrude on a private moment between friends or lovers.

I study one of the flowers closely, enjoying how the colors blend, turning from deeper orange into yellow. A warm hand wraps around mine, and I tense, my head snapping around. I’m never casually touched by anyone. Mother would remove their hand permanently.

“Petal?” I meet the gaze of a tall male with tanned skin and caramel-brown eyes, boring into mine. I yank my hand free and move away from him. His gaze is kind, and while there’s definitely something familiar about him, his brazenness has me on alert.

“Persephone?” His blond eyebrows knit together, and his gaze becomes cautious. He doesn’t wear the same mask of fear as the other Olympians, but there is definitely a glimmer of unease. His power feels… different. I blink, racking my brain for context or a clue as to why this person would know my name and why he would act so familiar with me.

“Yes?” I ask, keeping my voice docile.

“Persephone, we really must get back,” Florence, my chaperone, says. Her voice is kind, and I know she’s given me as much allowance as she possibly could. My time outside of our home is still restricted, but my mother has assured me that over time, I will be allowed more ‘exposure’, as she calls it.

I return to Florence’s side, and we walk in silence, the same question buzzing around my brain over and over. When we approach the last turn, I can’t hold it back any longer. I’m too intrigued. “Who was that man from earlier?” I ask her.

Florence glances at me, regarding me carefully. “Which man, Lady Persephone?”

“The one who appeared to know who I am,” I reply, trying to decipher her micro-expressions.

“Perhaps he confused you with someone else, Lady Persephone,” she replies after a moment.

My brows draw. “He called me by name.”

“Perhaps he is someone who has heard of your entrance into society and wished to introduce himself to you.” Her words are a little more clipped, and I sense there is more to this.

I know I should drop this, but… “But you are unfamiliar with him?” I push, needing a sliver of information about him.

Florence looks as if she’s about to answer when we turn the corner, and the house comes into sight. My mother stands at the gate, waiting for me. Her arms are crossed, and she’s regarding me with disappointment.

No change there.

Florence both tenses at seeing my mother and seems to exhale in relief that my questioning has ceased.

For now.

I smile at my mother as we approach. The smile she taught me. “Hello, Mother.”

My mother completely ignores me, turning her furious gaze to Florence. “This is unacceptable, Florence. I told you to be back ten?—”

“It was my fault, Mother. I apologize. I was completely distracted looking at the gardens of the people of Olympus,” I interrupt.

My mother’s gaze snaps to me, her eyes narrowing.

Fuck… I don’t think I’ve ever interrupted her before.

She lifts her chin, regarding me, and I try to avoid nervously pulling on my fingers. Fidgeting would only make her morefurious with me. She scrutinizes me for what feels like an eternity before she says, “Thegardens?”

I nod. “I was looking at one in particular. It had gardenias and pansies in the same patch. Scandalous, isn’t it?”

My mother keeps her inscrutable gaze on mine for another moment before her fury melts away, and her lips twitch. “The people of Olympus have no taste, Persephone.” She looks at Florence, whose gaze I feel plastered to the side of my face. I’m not sure if she’s breathed since we got here. “You are excused.”

“Thank you, Your Greatness,” Florence mutters, curtsying and scurrying off.

Your Greatness.My stomach turns at the title my mother insists upon.

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