The Goddess Test (Goddess Test #1)(66)
Author: Aimee Carter

“And by showing humility, you passed the final test,” said Henry.

“So—” I stopped, hating that I felt so slow and stupid, but it felt too good to be true. “What does that mean? What’s going to happen now?”

Henry cleared his throat. “It means, if you agree, we will be married at sunset.”

Married at sunset. What had felt like a far-fetched fantasy hours ago now pressed against me, an impending reality that was hurtling toward me faster than I could run away.

Not that I was running. This was what I’d wanted, wasn’t it? Not to be anyone’s wife, but to give Henry a chance. To give him the same hope I’d wanted for myself, and now with my mother here, even if she wasn’t exactly the same, we’d both won, hadn’t we?

No…not all of us. Calliope hadn’t won, and neither had James. In order for Henry to be alive and happy, in order for me to have my mother back, they had to lose. Calliope had brought it on herself, but James—what had he given up for me to have this?

With a start, I realized both Henry and my mother were staring at me. We’d somehow made it across the ballroom, and now we were stopped between the heavy double doors that were opened wide enough for the three of us to exit.

“Yes, of course,” I said, my face reddening. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t hesitating, I was just—thinking, and—of course I still want to do this.”

It wasn’t until Henry relaxed that I noticed how tense he’d grown. “I am glad to hear that,” he said, his relief plain in his voice. “May I ask what it was you were thinking of?”

I didn’t want to tell him that I was worried about James, in case it was still a sore spot for him, so instead I asked the question that had been burning in my mind ever since Ava had walked through those doors. “Was it all a setup?”

There was an awkward silence, and this time I saw Henry and my mother exchanging looks, as if all they needed to communicate was a glance. It wasn’t so impossible, really, and I bit the inside of my cheek, irritated they weren’t sharing.

“Yes and no,” said my mother. We continued slowly down the hallway, each step more painful than the last, but my injuries were the least of my concerns. “After the decades Henry spent searching for a new queen, when it became apparent his search wasn’t yielding the results we needed—”

“I was going to give up,” said Henry. “Each girl failed before they’d begun, or if they showed any promise at all, they turned up dead. We know what was happening now, but I cannot tell you how heart-wrenching it was to watch those young women die, knowing it was my fault. I could not bring myself to put anyone else in such danger, and I was determined it would end.”

“And I was just as determined that he try until we had no more time left,” said my mother. “So we compromised. Persephone…” Something in her expression changed, and for the briefest of moments I saw shame. “Persephone was my daughter. Your sister. It’s my fault she was never happy, and because of that, Henry was never happy either.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” said Henry with quiet fierceness. “It was no one’s fault but my own. I am the one who could not make her happy—”

“And I’m the one who pushed you together to begin with,” said my mother. “Don’t argue with me, Henry. I mean it.”

He fell silent, though I thought I saw the barest hint of a smile.

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted.” She ran her fingers through my hair, and I knew she didn’t mean any of the sharpness in her voice. “You always had a choice, sweetheart. If you didn’t want to do this, we would have all accepted it and proceeded without you. You have always been in control of your life—all we did was offer you the opportunity.”

My throat tightened as I imagined what might have happened if I hadn’t. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“It would have given you an unfair advantage,” said my mother. “It needed to be your decision, not one I influenced you to make or one that you automatically rejected because you knew what you were getting into. Besides,” she added gently, “even if I’d told you, would you really have believed me?”

Of course not. And when I left for the real world, who would possibly believe me if I told them how I spent my winters? Nobody sane, I was sure of it. “Does Eden even exist? Everyone there, even Ava and Dylan—was that part of giving me a choice?”

“Eden does not exist outside of the few weeks you occupied it,” said Henry. “If you decide to go back to where the town stood, you will see nothing but trees and fields. I am sorry for the deception.”

So was I. I pursed my lips, trying to come up with something to say that didn’t make me sound like I was twelve. “Just—don’t do it again, all right?” I looked between him and my mother. “No more lies, and no more holding out on me.”

To my surprise, my mother laughed, but it wasn’t the laugh I was used to. It was a strange combination of sounds—a gurgling brook, the chirping of crickets and somehow the first day of spring. It was incredible.

“Of course,” she said, her voice filled with affection that spilled through me and made it easier to walk the next few feet. “Now, before we get to your wedding, is there anything else you’d like to know?”

My wedding. A lump formed in my throat, and it was all I could do to speak around it. “Yeah,” I said hoarsely. “What kind of name is Diana for a goddess, anyway?”

She laughed again, and the knot in my throat loosened. “Ella was rather put out I took her Roman name, but she did not want it, and I’ve always been quite fond of it. We all choose new ones throughout the years.”

“Ones that match where and when we are,” said Henry. “We are most famous within Greek mythology, and that is why we are known throughout by our Greek names.”

“But we have no real names,” said my mother. “We were created before names.”

“And we will survive long after names are needed,” said Henry.

My mother glanced at him. “Some of us, anyhow.”

Her words brought an image of James crashing into my thoughts, and I tried to push it away, but he remained stubbornly in the forefront of my mind. “You’re really the Olympians then?”

“All thirteen,” said my mother. “Plus Henry, on a good day.”