85. The Wedding Feast
The Wedding Feast
What kind of feast honours a love that never was?
Oceanus’s palace was bursting with dancing deities and divine laughter that filled his grand halls, even his great river sounded more like a babbling brook instead of its monstrous rumbling self.
Styx’s sisters usually enjoyed a banquet, but that day they were eyeing her with an envy that made them look almost green in the firelight of the stars I had hung across the halls.
There was a vibrance in the air that extended everywhere, except toward the two rose-and-violet-covered thrones at the front of the room where Pallas and Styx had taken their honoured seats.
Styx looked lovely: I threaded her long green tresses with white flowers we grew ourselves.
Her eyes were lined with dark kohl to make them shine bright.
Her lips were painted rosy red and her emerald dress was made of the finest silk.
Pallas’s crimson robes only highlighted his golden skin and sinews.
They looked beautiful together. But neither of them was smiling.
My heart clenched for them both. There had to be a way to bring them together.
I knew Styx would grow to care for kind Pallas with a little help.
Next to Pallas, Perses caught my eye. And as my pulse began to race, his handsome face creased to offer me a gentle smile.