9. Mint and pomegranate
MINT AND POMEGRANATE
WILLOW
Okay. Here we go.
Let’s say I am Persephone reborn, and with all the evidence pointing to that being the case, I’m not arguing with her.
Not after we arrived down here and, in an instant, the sweet puppy that started this whole mess suddenly ballooned into a three-headed monster that would’ve made me piss myself if I didn’t instinctively recognize it as Sir.
Cerberus. Jeez. No wonder that witch I met snickered a bit when she heard my polite name for the puppy. I thought he was abandoned and in need of someone who cared about him.
I never guessed he was somehow bringing me to… to…
My husband.
Okay. I’m game for anything. I came through the portal, and if that means I have to go on some quest or accomplish some sort of mission to be able to go back to New Jersey, fine.
Let’s go. But if I thought it was bad enough when that rough Roman guy grabbed me, yanked my arms, and tied me to that tree in what has to be the worst proposal ever, that’s nothing compared to Mr. Shadow popping out out of nowhere to rescue me while also claiming me.
Mr. Shadow. No. His name is—
I shake my head. Uh-uh. I’m not ready for that just yet.
Right before he brought me upstairs, he finally introduced himself as Aiden, and for my own sanity, he’s Aiden.
Sure, he’s Aiden who lives in the Underworld, who told me during our first meeting that he’s waited eight years for me, and then brought me over a black river with faces in it before showing me to a room that has stone walls, fiery torches, and the undeniable feeling that I belong here.
He also looks like he stepped out of a movie about 1940s gangsters, down to the cut of his suit and the old-fashioned if definitely Brooklyn accent that I actually get a little turned-on by every time he speaks…
No, Willow. Bad Willow.
Crushing on you-know-who is a bad idea, especially when I’ve got a besotted goddess inside my head who keeps whispering the ‘h’ word no matter how hard I try not to hear it.
Husband.
How can he be my husband?
Simple. He’s Persephone’s husband, but since I think I’m currently the reincarnation of the goddess, does that mean he’s my husband, too?
Uh-uh.
Nope.
Not happening.
So, rather than obsess over why he saved me, why he brought me here, and what he expects of me after waiting so dang long for what, I don’t know, I decide that, instead of taking the opportunity to crawl on top of the bed and take a nap, I go and explore the rest of the room.
I hit the freaking jackpot.
There’s a bathroom. Larger than my entire bedroom in the condo, it has a massive marble tub, a porcelain toilet, and a sink.
After all that walking I did today—and can you believe this has only been one full day so far—it’s such a relief to discover that this place has the best magic of all: running water.
Does it make sense? Not even a little.
Do I question it in case it all disappears before I can pee and freshen up? Nope.
I don’t think it’s a good idea to hop in the tub, though it’s tempting.
Very tempting. Shoot, I would’ve climbed into the sink itself if I thought I could fit.
I give it a good try, wincing when I get water and flecks of dirt and grass and flower petals all over the floor.
Right now, I couldn’t care less. I just want to get clean—
“Mistress?”
Ooh, boy. I don’t think I like being called that. And, no, Persephone, I’m not about to tell anyone I meet here that I’m the queen, but mistress… yeesh. It makes me sound like I’m the side piece or the woman of the house.
Is it terrible that I don’t know which one would be worse?
Once I’m not contorting myself in the sink to wash my feet, I hurry to the door. I peek my head out of the bathroom. Standing just inside of the bedroom, I see a woman who, on first look, makes me wish the magical bathroom came with a brush and some lip gloss or something.
She’s gorgeous.
Okay. I know I keep thinking that everyone I meet is a looker. Well, except for the cyclops, but if he wasn’t a misshapen giant with one eye, who knows? But when I say that this woman is gorgeous, I mean it.
Her complexion is a deep bronze color. I’m a natural blonde, but her hair is such a pristine white color that it’s almost shocking.
It falls in a sheet down her back, hitting the small of it.
She’s tall and thin, but unlike how I’m flat-chested, she has one heck of a rack beneath the satin material draped over her in a gorgeous silver dress.
In her arms, she’s holding a bundle of white fabric with a red sash around the middle.
Her eyes are the color of honey, and they narrow when she sees my dirty face and messy clothes. Good thing she can’t see my wet feet and the mud I didn’t quite get rid of yet or the poor girl might have a coronary.
I wave. “Hi.”
“Hello,” she replies. “My name is Minthe. The master insisted that you have this before supper.”
Yuck. Master is just as icky as mistress, and I’m not the only one who doesn’t like the way that Minthe says it like that. Almost like she has more affection for the master—for H… Aiden—than she does me.
Shoot. She probably has more affection for that poor cyclops than she does me at the moment.
As though she agrees with my impression, sweet Persephone swears.
It’s gotta be Ancient Greek, so it doesn’t translate quite right, but I know a curse when I hear one; just like I did when the Roman soldier let one rip.
I might not feel the need to use such strong language myself, but growing up in Manhattan with Daphne Ackerly as my cousin… yeah. Persephone is pissed.
What’s up?
The sky. Zeus’s domain. But that has nothing to do with the nymph in the palace. She shouldn’t be here. Send her away.
I can’t do that. It would be super rude.
If you knew her soul like I do, you’d do more than be rude. You’re a queen now, Willow. You’re here to take your place on my throne. Now be a queen and get rid of her.
Whoa. Persephone is really sure about that. And while I can’t keep pretending like I don’t know that I’ve somehow found myself in one of the most infamous Greek myths of all time, I’m still Willow. I’m still me.
And I can’t kick her out, especially when she seems so reluctant to be here in the first place.
It’s obvious that someone sent her up—and considering the fabric in her arms, she was probably told to bring that for me by the master or someone else who listens to him—and I don’t want to get her in trouble with a man who can conjure fire in the palms of his hand like that.
So, because I’m at heart a people pleaser, I tiptoe over to her and accept the bundle of fabric.
I’m right. Her nose wrinkles when she gets a full look at me.
Yeah, yeah. You wouldn’t look like a supermodel, either, if you fell through a mirror at bedtime, were running around the woods ever since because it was daylight here and you had no choice, got tied to a tree once it did get dark, and now you’re supposed to have supper with the master when all you want to do is lie down and hope this portal fantasy of mine was all a very lucid dream—
Hang on.
Supper? I can’t eat supper.
Uh-oh.
I’m in the Underworld. I think… I think it just hit me. I’m in the Underworld, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do to get back home, but Minthe just gave me a white dress and a pair of silver sandals and it seems like I’m expected to get dressed.
I do. People pleaser, remember? I don’t want her to get in trouble, and I don’t know what else to do, and I just hope that the dress is warmer than my t-shirt and shorts.
Surprisingly, it is. It’s also the perfect size for me, right down to the red sash that wraps around my waist, and the silver sandals that protect my poor tootsies from the chilly floor.
I get changed in the bathroom. Though it looks like it’s ripped out of her, I decline when Minthe offers to help me get the chiton on. Chiton. Really. That’s what she calls it, and I decide to just go with it. Sure. I’m wearing a chiton, and I only hope I have it on the right way.
Taking a deep breath, I return to the room. “Okay. How’s this?”
“You look fantastic, Willow.”
My heart leaps to my throat. I thought, when I left the bathroom, only Minthe would be waiting in the bedroom. Um. Nope.
There’s Aiden, and his eyes flicker from black to white and back so quickly I can almost convince myself that I didn’t see that happen at all.
I swallow roughly. “Thanks. And, uh, thanks for the dress.” Nope. Sorry. I just can’t bring myself to call it a chiton after all. “It fits well.”
“I knew it would. It suits you. I mean, yeah. Looks real good.” His Adam’s apple bobs.
“I’ve come to bring ya down for dinner.” He pauses, clears his throat.
When he speaks again, he’s covered up his accent just enough to make me instantly miss it.
“If you’d join me. I’m told supper is ready.
It’ll be a quick one. I’m sure you’re tired and need your rest, but I must feed you first.”
Something tells me there’s no getting out of this. It would be rude to try. Especially after he saved me, brought me to his home, and gave me clothes… I mean, I can’t eat any of the Underworld food, but I don’t want to offend him.
So I shrug and give him a small smile because what else can I do?
Aiden nods. He gestures at Minthe. “That will be all. Tell Leuce to have the meal served immediately.”
“Yes, master,” she says, leaving no doubt in my mind that Aiden is…
Nope. Still not ready for it.
Aiden nods, but before she can walk out of the bedroom, he calls out: “Wait.”
The knock-out pauses.
He reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket, pulling out a small green plant. It’s a single stem with maybe three or four leaves on it.
Minthe accepts the sprig of greenery from him. She pales, dropping her chin to her impressive chest, and ducks out of the room.
I can’t help myself. “What was that about?”
“I gave her mint,” he rumbles. “Just in case she’s in need of a reminder.”
I open my mouth to ask, then decide that I don’t want to know. Instead, I say, “She works for you?”
Okay. Maybe it’s none of my business, but there’s a difference between her working for him and her serving him, if you get my drift.
And, whoa. I never thought of myself as the jealous type.
I’m usually way too easy-going for that.
Ever since Persephone piped up, though? It seems like she might be affecting me more than I would’ve thought.
How else can I explain the rush of relief I experience when Aiden answers my question?
“I keep a pair of nymphs as servants. It’s safer for them to work for me than exist in the land of the living above. But if you don’t want them as your maids—”
I do not, interrupts Persephone.
I smile at Aiden. “Hey. They were here first. And this is their job. Why would I make you fire them if they like their job?”
Because Minthe tried to steal my husband from me. And Leuce should be a white poplar tree in Elysium, not flaunting her beauty in front of Ha—
I rub my chest, quieting the jealous goddess of spring inside of me.
“It’s fine,” I say, and I only hope that that doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass later.
Besides, I’ve read enough of Greek mythology to accept that none of the gods could keep it in their pants.
As devoted to Persephone as her husband was, even he had multiple lovers.
Aiden purses his lips and, darn, that should not be half as sexy as it is. “If you change your mind, Willow, you tell me. Yes?”
I nod, one hundred percent lying to the guy in charge of the Underworld. “Sure thing.” I wait a beat. “So? What’s for supper?”
And how can I politely refuse?
He offers me his elbow, the epitome of a chivalric gentleman from another age—and isn’t that exactly what he might be?
Eighty years…
I lay my hand on Aiden’s arm, sucking in a breath when a jolt passes between us.
I noticed that earlier, too. When he commanded me to come to him. It wasn’t as powerful as that one—I almost feel like I was electrocuted, it was that strong—but it was there.
Huh. What’s that about?
I don’t know, but he waits until I’m walking next to him to answer my question about dinner.
“Every Persephone has her own tastes,” he tells me. “If you want anything in particular, you let me know and I’ll make sure you have it. For now, I just told the kitchen to create a quick supper for a very important guest. I’m sure you’ll find something you enjoy.”
If I listen to Cassandra, I’m not so sure about that.
I keep that thought to myself as we wind our way down the stairs again. I ask him about Sir, and he tells me that the hound is back at his place in front of the gate. If I’d like to visit with Cerberus, I can, but he prefers that I stay inside of the palace.
Palace.
He brought me to his palace.
I don’t know how many rooms it holds. The megaron seems like it might be the biggest, but the dining area is no slouch, either.
With just as many candles and torches and sconces providing firelight that still barely manages to break up the gloom, it has a long, narrow table in the center that has to be at least fifteen feet long.
I do a quick count. There are twenty-four seats at the table, though only two have place settings: the seat at the head of the table, with the other on the left-hand side of that spot.
Two place settings, plus one covered dish. That’s all that is currently on the table, and I figure the kitchen’s whipped up something small for us when Aiden taps his fingers on top of my hand.
The jolt is just as strong this time, and I suck in a breath.
His eyes flash in the firelight. “Take your seat, Willow. The one next to mine. I’ll check with the servants to see where the rest of your meal is.”
Crap.
No. I can’t eat this stuff. If there’s supposed to be more, but they didn’t bring it out yet, maybe they haven’t finished cooking it. Good. I’ll just tell Aiden that I’m good with whatever’s under this cover, and when I don’t eat it, I won’t be wasting that much food.
“Oh, that’s okay. I’m not really hungry. I’m sure this will be more than enough for me. Unless you want it—”
I lift the cover.
Together, we stare at it.
Even Persephone is suddenly wide awake, aware, and totally speechless.
Because the only thing that’s on the table?
Is a pomegranate.