The Goddess Test Boxed Set: Goddess Interrupted\The Goddess Inheritance\The Goddess Legacy (19 page)

“She helped me rule,” he continued, “doing as you will hopefully be doing soon enough. But she was young when we married, and…” He averted his eyes. “Eventually she saw me as her captor rather than her husband. She resented me greatly, and while in the beginning she was fond of me, I do not believe she ever loved me, not like I love her.”

Love, not loved. I exhaled.

“History takes her side, of course, and I have my suspicions about that, but in truth I never forced her into a marriage. I
love her dearly, and it was agony for me to see her so miserable. After several millennia, she fell in love with a mortal and chose to give up her immortality for him, and I let her go. It hurt a great deal, but I knew it would hurt more if I made her stay.”

I was silent for the space of several heartbeats as I digested what he was telling me. Unrequited love was one thing, but spending an incomprehensible amount of time in that sort of pain—I couldn't imagine it. I didn't even want to try.

“I'm sorry,” I said, my anger dissipating as I wished there was something else to say.

“Don't be.” Henry's lips curled up into a smile that held so much self-hatred that I wanted to reach over and smack him upside the head for it. “She made her decision. You have made yours. It is the most you can do.”

Again I nodded, still at a loss for words. James was right. He would always be in love with Persephone no matter what I did; I had to accept that. But part of me wanted him to love me, too. Even if it was only enough to get him through the spring, it would do.

“Henry?” I said, my throat tightening as I gathered the courage I needed. “Do you think you could ever love me? Even a little?”

He looked stunned at my question, his brow furrowed and his mouth slightly open. But I needed to know—I couldn't expect a fairy-tale ending, but I never had anyway. My fairy tale was one where both my mother and Henry were still alive, and since it was too late for my mother, all of my hope rested on Henry's shoulders.

Finally he pressed his lips to the corner of my mouth in a chaste kiss, and he then said softly, “As much as I am capable of loving anyone else, yes.”

My heart sank, but while it wasn't the answer I'd hoped for, it would have to do. He took my hand in both of his and looked at me, as if daring me to look away. I didn't.

“You have fought for me, and do not think I have not seen that. You believe in me when few others will, and I cannot tell you how much that means to me. I will always treasure your friendship and affection.”

Friendship and affection. The words hit me like a rock, but I struggled to remember that they were better than the alternative—so much better. But something inside of me felt empty, as if he'd stolen something precious from me. Maybe it hadn't been all romance and rainbows between us so far, but I'd hoped for more, and I didn't know how else to show him what I wanted. Not without offering myself to him completely, and I couldn't, not yet. Not when I didn't know if he felt the same.

When he continued, I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. “If you are not deemed worthy, then I will step down, and it is my hope that if you wish, we might spend time together before I fade completely.”

A rush of surprise filled me, and I blinked back the stubborn tears that had formed in my eyes. “How long would that be?”

“I do not know,” he said. “But I suspect I will last until your death, if it comes to that. If you will still have me when this is through.”

I forced a small smile. “That would be nice,” I said. “To—to be your friend.”

“You are my friend,” he said, and I said nothing. Friends. Just friends—nothing more. I tried to feel relieved, to remind
myself that I hadn't wanted any of this to begin with, but all I could feel was mind-numbing hurt.

He said he would love me, and I believed him. But it would never be in the way I wanted. I didn't know when I'd decided I wanted more—maybe the moment I'd kissed him at Christmas, or when I'd lost Ava all over again and couldn't bear to lose anyone else—but all I knew was that I did. It was something he could never give me, and that hurt more than I could stand.

 

Most of February slipped by in the same monotonous pattern as before. I took my meals alone, and I had classes with Irene nearly every day. After that first exam, she never gave me another test again, although whether it was because she'd never intended on it or because Henry had asked her not to, I didn't know.

The one thing that was not monotonous was my time with Henry. Our conversation in the Underworld had been a silent turning point, and while spending the evenings with him was always the best part of my day, there was an underlying hurt now that I couldn't justify. He'd laid out what he wanted, and I knew I had to respect that. I couldn't have him, but with each evening that passed, I felt myself falling deeper and deeper for him, spiraling downward into a place where the word
love
was synonymous with pain.

Every look, every touch, every brush of his lips, as innocent as they may have been—how could he say he only wanted friendship when he was treating me like his partner? When he wanted me to be his wife? I didn't understand it, and as time passed, I grew more confused. I didn't know what this sort of love felt like, but by the time winter started to come to an end, with the exception of my mother, I felt closer to him than
I had to anyone in my life. It hurt to be away from him, but sometimes, when he told me stories of his life before me, his life with Persephone, it was agony to be with him. Still, our friendship was so strong that it felt like the most natural thing in the world. There was no one I'd have rather spent my time with, no matter how much it hurt.

Finally, despite there still being so many tests remaining, it was March, the last month I was required to stay in Eden Manor. On one hand, I was reluctantly excited at the thought of getting to leave and seeing the world again; on the other, I knew what was waiting for me when I left. If I were lucky, I would have one last day to sit by my mother's side and talk to her, whether or not she could really hear me. Then, once I'd said my goodbyes, she would die. I began to prepare myself for that reality, though I struggled with it as I always had. How was I ever supposed to tell her goodbye?

A few days into the month, Henry met with the council. I wasn't allowed to go—didn't want to go and face James—and I busied myself with entertaining Pogo in the green-and-gold drawing room while he was gone. I suspected it had something to do with my tests and how they'd seemed to stop in the months that followed Christmas, but I hadn't asked him before he'd left. The only thing I was certain of anymore was that no girl had gotten as far as I had, and with each day that passed, the danger grew. Unless it really had been James who'd killed all those girls—and as angry as I was with him, I refused to believe he was capable of murder—whoever had done it was still out there, waiting for the right time.

“Do you think he'll grow much bigger?” said Calliope as we waited for Henry to return, and she scratched Pogo's pink
belly. His tongue lolled out to the side, and he seemed to be enjoying himself.

“Doubt it,” I said. “He hasn't really grown much lately.”

“Are you going to take him with you when you leave?”

I shrugged. “Maybe. I haven't decided. He'd probably like it here better, wouldn't he?”

Before she could respond, the doors opened and a chill fell over the room. Calliope scrambled to her feet, still awkwardly holding Pogo, and I twisted around to see who was there. Henry stood framed in the doorway, anger rolling off of him in waves.

“I—I have to go,” said Calliope, shoving Pogo in my arms and rushing out of the room. As she passed Henry, she gave him a strange, lingering look, though she didn't say anything to him.

Several tense seconds passed before Henry finally spoke. “I need you to stop eating.”

Cuddling Pogo to my chest, I sat down on one of the couches. “Why? I like eating. Eating's sort of important to staying alive, y'know, and unlike the rest of you, that's something I happen to be.”

“You do not need to eat here.” Henry closed the door and moved toward me, but he didn't sit down. “It is unnecessary, and you must adapt.”

Slowly I set Pogo down, and he at least had sense enough to run behind the couch. I, on the other hand, stupidly stayed put. “I like eating. I'm not overweight, and I don't see what the big deal is.”

Henry's eyes were a stormy shade of gray that made me shiver. “What about Calliope?”

“What about her?”

“Every time you sit down to a meal, you put her in jeopardy.”

I stared at him. “That's a horrible thing for you to use against me. What am I supposed to say to that?”

“It is true,” he said harshly. “And I would prefer that you say it is enough incentive to make you stop eating.”

I clenched my jaw. “Why are you bringing it up now?”

He closed his eyes, a crease forming in the middle of his brow. I'd never seen him so upset, even when Xander had been killed. But it was
food
. What was the big deal?

“It is a test,” he said softly, as if he didn't want anyone to overhear. “If you don't stop eating before the council makes their judgment, you will fail.”

Eating was a
test?
“How can that possibly be a test?” I blurted. “What's the point? To see if I can starve myself until I'm so skinny that I'll die the instant I leave?”

“Gluttony,” he said sharply, and I shut my mouth. “And to see how well you adapt. That is what it tests. Do not yell at me, Kate. I am not the one who decided what the tests would be.”

Gluttony. I had to think for a moment, but once I realized where I'd heard the word before, I froze. “The seven deadly sins? That's what I'm being tested on?”

Henry wrung his hands together. “I cannot answer that. If the council discovers I have told you this much, there is a very good chance that we will automatically fail.”

We
. The way he said it in a thick voice tugged at something inside of me, and with a start I realized he was finally doing it. I pressed my hands together, hardly daring to hope.

“You care?” I said. “I thought—”

He stood and started to pace, refusing to look at me. “You have been unhappy with me. Why?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but nothing came out. He was right. “Because,” I said in a miserable voice and hating myself for it. “I don't want to just be your friend.”

Henry stopped and turned toward me, though he didn't look surprised. Instead he looked like he was trying to put the pieces together. “I thought you did not wish to act as my wife.”

I made a face. “There are steps between friend and wife, you know. I mean, I know you're ancient and all, but you must have at least heard of dating.”

He didn't smile, but his expression softened. “If you pass, you
will
be my wife. Is that something you are willing to accept now?”

I nodded, trying not to look too nervous. Or think about the whole thing too much.

“Because you care for me?”

“Yes,” I mumbled, embarrassed. “And if you hold that against me—”

I didn't have time to finish. One second he stood across the room, and the next he crouched down beside me, kissing me so deeply that by the time he finally pulled away, I was almost gasping for air. “What—” I started, but he pressed his finger against my lips.

“I care,” he said in a trembling voice. “I care so much that I do not know how to tell you without it seeming inconsequential compared to how I feel. Even if I am distant at times and seem as if I do not want to be with you, it is only because this scares me, too.”

I stared at him. He leaned in and kissed my swollen lips again, and this time I kissed back. Time seemed to fall away
around us, and all I could see, hear, taste, smell, feel was him. A delicious kind of warmth spread through me, but this time it wasn't my ankle he was healing.

When he pulled away a second time, I let my hands fall from his hair to my side, and I watched him, unsure of what to do now. He straightened and stood, though he didn't take his eyes off me. “Please,” he said. “Stop eating.”

I nodded, too disarmed to come up with anything to say in protest.

“Thank you.” He reached out to brush his fingers against my cheek, and then stepped toward the door. Before I could form any kind of coherent thought in my head, he was gone.

I licked my lips, still able to taste him, and smiled. Finally, after nearly six months, he was trying.

 

That night, as he always did, Henry slipped into my room an hour after I finished dinner. I'd spent the afternoon wondering what would happen, if it would all go back to normal or if there would be more of those heart-pounding kisses, but by the time he arrived, I'd decided it didn't matter. It was more than enough to know I was no longer alone in the fight for his existence.

“I am sorry,” he said, lingering near the doorway. I was on my bed playing with Pogo, who had a new assortment of toys to keep him entertained. I looked up in time to see Henry close the door. “My actions earlier were uncalled for.”

For one horrible moment, I thought he was apologizing for kissing me. It wasn't until I felt my face drain of color that I realized he was sorry for getting angry I was still eating, and by then, all I could manage was a nervous laugh. “You were just
trying to warn me. I had one last meal tonight, but I'm done now, I promise.”

The Greek seafood pasta, which usually made me delirious with hunger, had tasted like sawdust in my mouth, and I'd only managed a few bites. But there would be no more food now. I'd made a promise to Henry, and I wasn't going to break it any more than I already had.

He took a tentative step toward me. “Still, I should not have yelled as I did. You did nothing to deserve it.”