The Goddess Test Boxed Set: Goddess Interrupted\The Goddess Inheritance\The Goddess Legacy (93 page)

I had to pretend to care. And part of me did—I cared about how
badly I was hurting him. I cared that I was lying to him. I cared that he was
just as miserable as I was, if not more so. But every time we could have moved
into the realm of something more, that wall was there, ever looming, ready to
stop me.

Hades tried everything. Breakfast in bed, lavish gifts, even
giving me free rein over the palace's interior decorating. I had a large patch
of rock to work with outside as well, and over the years, I created a jeweled
garden. It wasn't anything like the real thing, but it gave me time alone, time
I needed to think, and Hades showered me with praise for it.

But nothing worked. We were frozen, not because of him, but
because of me. And I didn't know how to fix it.

The days were endless, and though the seasons passed on the
surface, nothing but my hair color changed in the Underworld. The rock pressed
down on me constantly, trapping me without mercy, and the few times Hades
brought me to the surface didn't make up for my prison. Mother only visited
once, shortly after my tantrum in Olympus, and even then it was simply to make
sure I was behaving.

Hermes, however, stuck to his word. Whenever he came down to
train with Hades, he spent a little time with me. Playing games, talking,
exploring what few parts of the Underworld I was willing to see—he was my
lifeline, and things seemed a little brighter when he was there. He was the
reminder I needed that life hadn't stopped completely. That there was still a
world up there teeming with it.

One afternoon, I sat in the middle of the observatory, a long
room at the very top of the palace that looked out across the vast cavern. It'd
been empty when I'd discovered it, but I'd created an armchair for comfort, and
the fireplace crackled with flames every time I entered. The entire length of
the outer wall was made of glass, and I spent as much time up there as possible.
One of my gifts was the ability to see the present, and sometimes, especially
after a hard ruling, I liked to sit up there and go from afterlife to afterlife,
reminding myself that what we did wasn't all bad. People lived whatever lives
they wanted on the surface, and as Hades reminded me again and again, it wasn't
our job to judge that. It was our job to judge what they thought was right. What
they thought their afterlife should be. Most of the time, a soul went directly
to their afterlife without any contact with Hades and me. But sometimes they
were confused or didn't know or couldn't rectify their beliefs with their
actions, and that was where we came in.

It was exhausting, judging eternities. But I did the best I
could.

A soft knock cut through the room, and I pulled myself back
into the present. I'd been watching a girl walking hand-in-hand through the
woods with a young man. She'd clearly loved him in her life, and the fact that
they'd found each other even after death…I envied her. I envied her so badly
that I hated her. “Come in.”

Someone slipped inside—no, not just someone. Two sets of
footsteps too light to be Hades's echoed through the room. Frowning, I twisted
around in my chair. Hermes walked toward me, and behind him, Aphrodite
followed.

“Afternoon,” said Hermes, giving me a boyish grin. “You look
like hell.”

“I feel like hell,” I muttered, trying to push the thought of
the girl away. She was mortal and dead, and she'd probably never held a jewel
the size of a fist in her life. She was happier than I would ever be though, no
matter how many gifts Hades gave me. “What are you two doing here?”

“What, I'm not allowed to come by anymore?” he said, perching
on the arm of the chair. Aphrodite wandered toward the window, setting her hand
on the glass and smudging it. I winced, but the unseen servants who staffed
Hades's palace would clean it later.

“You know what I mean,” I said. “Why did you bring Aphrodite?”
She practically glowed with eternal satisfaction, and seeing her only made the
fire of jealousy inside me burn even hotter.

“Because I think I can help,” said Aphrodite, turning to face
us. “If you let me, I mean.”

“Help how?” I said warily, finding Hermes's hand. I didn't
trust Aphrodite, for all her good luck and happiness, but I did trust him.

“Hermes mentioned you've been having trouble adjusting,” she
said with a hint of mischievousness that probably drove every man on earth wild.
“How often do you and Hades sleep together?”

Just the thought of sleeping with Hades again made my skin
crawl, and I narrowed my eyes. “Once. To consummate the marriage. If you tell my
mother, I'll rip your hair out.”

Aphrodite blinked, clearly stunned. “Why haven't you two slept
together since?”

I shrugged. I'd spoken to Hermes about this a few times, but it
never got easier. And I didn't know Aphrodite half as well as I knew him. “I
don't know. It's just—I don't love him. And every time I think about doing that
kind of thing with him, it's like a wall forms. I can't move past it no matter
how hard I try.”

“A wall?” she said, frowning. “But weren't you two friends
before you got married?”

I nodded. At least someone understood how little sense all of
this made. “I don't like the Underworld. It makes me feel trapped. And sleeping
with him—it was horrible.”

“Everyone's first time is horrible. Except mine, but, you know.
Goddess of sex. Can't really help it.”

“How did you do it?” I blurted. “How did you make yourself fall
in love with Hephaestus?”

“I didn't make myself,” she said. “I didn't want to at first,
you know. I mean, that's why Ares and I ran away. But in the end…” She shrugged.
“Heph and I just fit together. We work, you know? There's really no substitute
for that. I have lovers on the side, of course, but in a way it helps us.”

Hermes snorted, and Aphrodite gave him a look. “I'm serious,”
she said. “I love him. I love what we have together, and he'll always be my
home. At the end of the day, it's because of my affairs that I stay with him.
It's because of them that I don't feel trapped.”

If only it were that easy for me. I stared at my hand
intertwined with Hermes's. “Hard to have an affair when I'm stuck down here the
entire time,” I mumbled.

“They're not for everyone,” she agreed, twirling a lock of
blond hair around her finger. “But there are other ways I could help you, if
you'll let me.”

“Help how?” I said. “Make me fall in love with him?”

She scoffed. “No one can make anyone fall in love with someone
else. In lust, sure—Eros is really good at that. But I mean trying to help you
break down that wall. Giving you a little nudge in the right direction.”

I had no idea what she meant, and the more she talked about it,
the tenser I became, until Hermes had to practically yank his hand from mine.
While he was busy flexing his fingers, I said, “I don't know.”

“Of course you do,” she said. “You want to love Hades,
right?”

I hesitated. I wanted to have the chance to choose for myself,
and if that included falling in love with Hades, yes. But what if it didn't?
What if, given the choice, I would've fallen in love with someone else? “I don't
know what I want.”

“You want to be happy. That's what everyone wants. And if you
can't get out of this mess—”

“You don't know that I can't. Maybe Hades will change his mind
and—”

“It isn't his mind to change,” she said, and the moment she
said it, her eyes widened, and she pressed her lips together. What the hell was
she talking about?

“Aphrodite,” said Hermes in a warning voice. “Spill. Now.”

She sank onto the other arm of my chair, her expression
falling. How was it possible that she could look so damn pretty all the time no
matter what mood she was in? “Daddy decided you had to marry Hades because he
was jealous that Hera was spending so much time with him, and he didn't want her
to get any ideas.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Wait,
what?
”

“It's exactly what it sounds like,” said Aphrodite. “Hera spent
some time down here, remember? And Daddy was afraid she was having an affair.
She wasn't, of course, but it's obvious she loves Hades—”

“As a brother,” I said. Everyone knew that. “Not as a husband.
She's
married
.”

“Yeah, well, so am I.” She gave me a little grin. “And whether
Hera likes it or not, she's as fallible as the rest of us. She just doesn't act
on it, that's all.”

I shook my head. The idea of Hera being in love with Hades was
ridiculous. “I don't believe you. She might love him, but that doesn't mean
she's
in
love with him. He's a nice guy, and Zeus
isn't. No wonder she ran down here to get away from him.”

Aphrodite inspected her nails. “If that's what you want to
believe, so be it. I could be wrong.”

“You are,” I said. “And even if you aren't, Hades loves
me.”

She arched an eyebrow. “So although you don't love him, you
relish the fact that he loves you.”

“Not relish.” The word sounded bitter on my tongue. “Just—it's
a fact. He does.”

“Yes, he does,” she conceded. “More than he's loved anyone. And
this is hurting him as much as it's hurting you—”

“You think I don't know that?” I snapped, my temper frayed.
Whether it was from her spreading lies about Hera or the way she treated all of
this like a game, I didn't know. Maybe it was jealousy. But either way, the
thought of accepting her offer made me sick to my stomach. “I don't need your
help, Aphrodite. If this is going to happen, it won't be because you decide it
should.”

She frowned. “That's not how—”

“I don't care, all right? All I want is my life back. And if
you can't give that to me—if the only other alternative is tricking me into
feeling like I love him even though I don't—then no thank you. I don't want to
be a slave to illusion.”

Two pink spots appeared on her cheeks. “Fine. If you're not
even open to the idea, then there's no point.”

“You're right, there isn't.”

Huffing, she stood and ran her fingers through her hair. “I'm
going back to Olympus. Hermes, are you coming?”

“Go on. I'll catch up,” he said, and though he'd been quiet for
most of the argument, he took my hand again.

Aphrodite stormed out of the room, and as soon as the door
clicked behind her, a dam broke inside me. All of the frustration and anger and
despair I'd swallowed since the day I'd married Hades flooded out, and I burst
into tears.

After a moment's hesitation, Hermes pulled me into an awkward
hug, and I buried my face in his chest. It wasn't fair. Aphrodite thought she
had it all figured out, but she wasn't stuck down here. She could leave whenever
she wanted, and she had a husband she loved as much as he loved her. Her
arranged marriage had worked.

But mine was failing. I'd tried everything—forcing myself to
love Hades, letting myself grow into it, and everything in between. Nothing was
working, and I was never going to have the chance to live the life I wanted.

And of course it was Zeus's fault. Everything was. I'd never
been ashamed to be his daughter before, but now, knowing what he'd been willing
to do in order to protect his own interests, to keep Hera as caged as I was—

“Hey,” said Hermes. “You're all right. Everything will be
okay.”

But no matter how many times he repeated it, he was wrong, and
neither of us could change a thing. “This can't be my eternity, Hermes.”

“It won't be. I'll do whatever I have to do to make sure it
isn't.”

I held him tighter, my shoulders shaking with sobs. I wasn't
supposed to break down like this. Mother had raised me better—she'd raised me to
adapt, to accept that not everything would go my way, but I couldn't be that
girl right now. Somewhere in the middle of that bitterness and pain, I'd given
up on her, and now the only person I could be was me.

At last I managed to stop crying, and he kissed the top of my
head. “You're my best friend,” he said. “You matter to me. You matter to all of
us, even if it doesn't feel that way. Don't forget that, all right?”

I nodded. Even when everything else was falling to pieces,
Hermes would be there. I was sure of it.

Once he left, I took a shaky breath and righted myself, gazing
out across the cavern. The River Styx flowed through the stone, carving a path
older than all of us. What would it be like to be on the other side? To live
knowing there would be an end someday? Mortals didn't all know about the
Underworld, and those who did only suspected, really. They believed, but they'd
never been down here, and once they died, they never left to tell their family
and friends about it. What would it be like to face that inevitable unknown?

In a way, I envied them. No matter how terrible their lives
were, they would have a chance to escape it in the end. I wouldn't.

Closing my eyes, I let my mind drift. I couldn't stomach going
back to the happy couple in the woods, so instead I focused on someone I wanted
to see—Hermes. I slipped into a vision, viewing the present as it was happening,
and my heart skipped a beat. Hermes stood in the throne room, empty except for
Hades, and he stared my so-called husband straight in the eye.

“If you don't let her go, she's going to wither. You know that.
You see it every day. So why delay the inevitable?”