Goddess Interrupted (Goddess Test #2)(33)
Author: Aimee Carter

“Don’t say that.” I spun around, and he came within inches of plowing into me. “I’m not Persephone. I’m not going to cheat on Henry no matter what season it is, and I don’t care how much time passes. That isn’t going to change.”

“What if things never get better?” said James. “What if Henry never loves you the way you deserve? What happened to Persephone…I don’t want to see you repeat her mistakes. You shouldn’t have to go through that kind of pain—you or Henry both. He’s set in his ways, and he’s never going to change. There’s no shame in admitting your marriage isn’t working—”

“Just because we have some problems doesn’t mean it isn’t working.”

He sighed. “All I’m saying is that you have a choice, Kate. Understand that, please, and don’t go running in the direction of Henry because you think you can f ix him.”

“I’m not,” I snarled. “I’m with him because I love him.”

“Then it shouldn’t be too hard for you to make me a promise,” said James. He was crazy if he thought I was going to promise him anything though. “Think about the possibility of living your own life instead of the life Henry and the rest of the council want you to live—and I don’t mean consider it for half a second. I mean imagine what it’ll be like if Henry never loves you like you love him. Imagine how it’ll feel coming home to a cold bed and a husband who would rather do anything else than spend time with you. Because like it or not, if you stay, that’s a possibility.

And in return, I’ll stop badgering you.” I opened my mouth to tell him to go screw himself, but nothing came out. Instead my eyes welled up, and before I could stop myself, words f lew from my tongue, tangled and thick and completely out of my control. “You really think it’ll be like that? You think he doesn’t love me?” James pursed his lips and reached out to touch me, but I pulled back. “He loves you, but yes, it’s a possibility he’ll never be there for you the way you want him to be. There’s a risk that this time around, you’d be Henry and he would be Persephone.”

So I would be the one left yearning for someone who didn’t want me. I wanted to snap and tell James how wrong he was, that I had a pocketful of f lowers to prove it, but I couldn’t. Henry could send me enough presents to f ill the Underworld a hundred times over, and it would never be a substitute for his touch. For the feel of his arms wrapped around me like Adonis had wrapped his around Persephone.

“All I’m asking is that you really think about whether or not this is the life you want,” said James softly. “If you decide you’d rather not, no one can force you. And I’m not asking that you spend your life with me, either. I just don’t want you to be tied down to someone who doesn’t appreciate you the way you deserve to be. You should be the one in control of your destiny, Kate, not any of us. And especially not Henry.”

I clutched my pile of sticks to my chest and said around the lump in my throat, “Okay. I’ll think about it. But—stop talking like that, okay? Please. Not when Henry isn’t here to defend himself.”

James nodded once, and that was enough for me. Taking a shuddering breath, I pulled myself together and squared my shoulders. Henry would have a fair shot. He would have a chance to prove James wrong, and when he did, James’s argument would be obliterated. And everything would be all right again.

“Did you at least tell Henry nothing happened in Greece?” I said, pleased the edge in my voice was back. I could break down another time.

His silence was all I needed to hear. With a muted screech, I stormed back toward camp, ignoring the string of apologies James spilled behind me.

As long as Henry wanted me, I would remain faithful.

But if he didn’t, if this life together was a chain to him, then the best thing I could do was set him free. At the same time, my mother’s expectations were a heavy burden for me to carry, and thousands of years was a long time to love a single person; it was entirely possible that Henry had the same reservations that held him back. And if he really did believe that James and I had become involved during our trip to Greece, then that was the f irst thing I’d have to set right the moment I had a chance.

Either way, I loved Henry. Maybe one day he would believe that.

When I reached camp, I dropped my sticks into the center and sat heavily down on a tree stump. James trailed in after me, and once he’d arranged the kindling into another teepee, he started the f ire. It would be impossible to sleep with the sounds of the carnival in the background, but Persephone didn’t seem to need it, either. Another advantage of dying, I supposed.

Ava and Persephone continued to bicker, but Ava at least seemed to realize something was wrong, and after another round of retorts, she quit. Persephone tried to egg her on, but once it became clear Ava wasn’t in the mood, Persephone sat on the tree stump next to mine and sulked.

“How many visions have you had?” said Persephone, and the sticks burst into f lame. James crouched on the ground a few feet away, and through the f ire I could see shadows in the deep lines etched into his face, making him appear years older than he was supposed to look.

I shrugged. “Three, I think. All to the same place.”

“Have you been able to control them yet?” she said, and I shook my head. “Do they happen at regular intervals?”

“No.” I stared down at my hands, unable to stomach watching James. “Did you ever sleep with Henry?” Persephone didn’t say anything for a moment, and when I glanced at her, her face looked oddly contorted in the firelight.

“It’s okay,” I said. “You don’t have to answer.” Our eyes met for a fraction of a second, and she straightened, her expression smoothing out. “Have you?” I nodded. “Once, in March. It’s October now,” I added.

“I think.”

Persephone tugged on one of her blond curls and sighed.

“I used to be able to tell. Even after I died, my hair changed colors with the seasons, but after a while it stopped.” She smiled faintly. “It’s stuck on summer now.” That explained why her hair had been a different color in Henry’s ref lection. “What—what season did it turn strawberry-blond?” I said.

“Fall,” she said. “It grew redder with the autumn, and in the dead of winter, it was black. It lightened into brown in the spring.”