Page 88 of The Queen & the King

I quirk an eyebrow, not quite challenging her but also showing that I’m not completely bending to her venomous words.

The fury on my mother’s face dies suddenly. Her complexion goes greyer, and she leans against the door frame. “Get ready. I will meet you downstairs in twenty minutes.” She turns and shuffles away.

I walk back to my bed and grab my phone, opening my messages with Hades.

Persephone

My mother isn’t looking so good. I’m going to try and get some information out of her. Love you.

I tuck my phone into the hidden compartment of my bedside drawer, and then I get dressed, pulling on a basic summer dress and pumps.

When I get downstairs, Mother is already ready and waiting for me. She looks a little less gray, but I can tell it’s because she’sapplied a lot of makeup. The crack on her face is still visible. It tracks down her neck, red and angry -looking.

I wait to see if she comments on the fact I’ve left my hair down, but she barely looks at me before turning toward the door and leaving the house. I follow after her, my guard up. She’s never asked me to come on an early morning walk before.

We walk in silence through the near -empty streets of Olympus as the sun climbs higher in the sky. I’m so on edge that it startles me when she begins to talk.

“No one used to fear the Goddess of the Harvest,” she begins, looking ahead. I glance at her and notice she is limping with each step.

“Then I became something to fear,” she continues. While her voice sounds weak, some pride shines through.

I stop walking and look at her. “And that’s something to be proud of?”

She stops and looks at the ascending sun. “It got me what I wanted.”

“Which was?”

She pauses, lifting her chin a little, the sunlight casting an eerie glow over her ruined face. “What I have always wanted.” She turns to look at me. “To protect you.”

“From what?” I ask, shaking my head a little, trying to rein in my anger.

“The world, Persephone.”

I scoff, looking away and rolling my eyes.

I feel her eyes still on me. “No one protected me. So I protect you.”

My brows draw, and I look back at her, trying to read her mind. This is maybe the most honest she has ever been with me, yet I still don’t fucking trust her.

“You,” her voice breaks a little, “are my greatest gift.” She looks at the sky again as if it will provide an answer no oneelse can. “A gift I should never have shared with the world,” she murmurs.

“You’re wrong.” The words slip out, the barest of whispers but the truest of truths, something I can not hold back. Because she allowed me that ounce of freedom, she gave me more than I could have ever possibly imagined.

My mother slowly turns her head, looking at me. “What?”

I’m at a crossroads. I can continue with the lie, pretend I didn’t say anything, or I can take the risk, knowing that this could go very, very wrong. But looking at my severely weakened mother, I realize that there may never be a better time for this.

I don’t shrink under her scrutiny. Instead, I rise like a phoenix from the ashes. “You kept me hidden for too long.”

She just looks at me and blinks, multiple emotions crossing her face—anger, resentment, sadness, and… fear. I can read each one easily.

“I should havenevergiven you an inch,” she snarls.

I snarl back, clenching my fists, “You are wrong, Mother. You say you wanted to protect me, but all you did was keep me captive. You abused me verbally and physically. No one has ever treated me worse than you.”

I try to stop, but it keeps coming, a flow of millennia of anger and repression, all exploding from me.

“You stole me from my husband, ripped my memories from me, and took my horns. And for what? So you could have your perfect little Persephone?”

---