Series: Willow Winters
Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Now that I have had a few moments to collect myself, I know that my heart is not only racing from the pleasure. It is racing because…I’m concerned about Hades. As the high calms and my breathing levels, I know that to be fact.
There’s something in his expression that spoke of pain. His dark gaze and low tone give him away. As if it’s hurt him deeply to be apart from me. As if it’s not a separation he can bear for very long. We are gods. We are king and queen. Surely, we will sustain and continue to rule. My choice was made for the greater good. War is not something I wish to come.
So much death. The gods have caused an imbalance.
He’s already told me what it would look like if my mother doesn’t stop, but now I fear that it may be closer to hand than anyone realizes.
Quickly, I rise from the chair, gather my gown, and take it into the changing room to prepare for the evening and prepare myself to face whatever may come when the sun rises.
What comes is a summons from my father.
He’s not come to my rooms to speak with me, and that does not surprise me. With the thrashing of lightning and the darkness that hasn’t let up, my mother has not relented. Without justice, she continues to rage. Zeus has unequaled power on Olympus. If he wishes to speak with another god or goddess, they come to meet with him. Only when he chooses.
Beatrice is the one who relays his invitation. We are to dine together in one of his audience rooms this evening. Nerves rack through me. He is the king of the gods, and he has not made it right with my mother. But what justice can be brought? What reason can she see? She is blinded by the betrayal and kidnapping of her daughter and although I am well, I have empathy for her. My thoughts haven’t settled and the anxiousness of what might be asked of me is overwhelming. Combined with Hades’s warning.
I spend the day with my mother, who has much to say about the plants in the garden. My thoughts choke me. Balling up into a cowardice at the back of my throat. She hasn’t brought harvest still. But perhaps the more time she spends with me, the more she will heal. After we have tea and fruit for breakfast, she suggests we go out to her garden beds.
There are hours to go until dinner, so I accompany her to the gardens.
The beds are newly turned over, dark soil warming in the sun. Various pots are arranged on the edge of the bed.
Olympus is empty. Ever since the scry, there is nothing here that holds my attention. All the white walls are a constant reminder that there is a great distance between us, and one that Hades cannot cross.
Realizing my thoughts, it feels as if I’ve betrayed her myself. My stomach sinks. I should not want the god who stole me. I should side with my mother for how fate has brought me my lover. Worst of all, I haven’t the words to confess to Demeter, my mother and savior in so many ways, that I love him and I wish her to stop. I wish for her to accept that there is no justice to give her.
“Ah!” My mother says, a simper on her lips although her eyes are still clouded with pain. “Everything is prepared for planting. Would you like to join me?”
“Of course,” I answer, though we are past the usual time. My heart beats quickly, remembering the last time she offered and how my magic and powers has dwindled to nearly nonexistent. “I thought you had planted these beds already,” I mention as I pick up a pot and look inside at the seeds it holds. “Did something go wrong?” I play naive, but I am no fool. She’s brought death in as many ways as she can for all to see her fury.
My mother purses her lips, moving to the center of the bed. “I was in a state when it was discovered you were missing,” she says guiltily. “I raged throughout Olympus and could not stop. This garden bed was an unfortunate victim.”
I reach over and place my hand on hers in comfort. She takes it and squeezes before letting me go again.
“But,” she says confidently. “We can plant again.”
“Yes,” I agree. “That is true. A garden can always be planted again.” My throat is tight with any response that I could offer regarding her state and my disappearance. I walk on eggshells around her.
We’re quiet for a little while, rearranging the pots, choosing seeds, and dropping them in neat rows throughout the bed. The act is soothing. Healing in so many ways. My intention with every seed is to bring life, abundance, and prosperity to all who need it. Warmth spreads through my chest as the garden grows. I imagine the mortals who suffered for my king’s desperate actions to have me. They are innocent and I wish for the growth here to show in their own gardens. As above, so below. I wish to make them whole again, without parting from what I’ve gained.