The Goddess Inheritance
Page 33

I opened my mouth to protest, but my mother beat me to it. “Kate can fight if she wants,” she said. Her eyes locked on mine. “If Henry won’t teach her, I will.”
Henry scowled, but Walter was the first to speak up. “Very well. If that is what Kate wants, so be it.” He touched my mother’s shoulder and turned to join the others on the opposite side of the circle.
I stared after him. That was it? After everything that had happened, that was all he was willing to give me? No offer to teach me himself—not that I expected one, and I would’ve turned it down anyway, but still. No attempt to insist I stay safe. Just permission to go out and die if that was what I wanted.
Maybe if I hadn’t already been so on edge, it wouldn’t have stung as much as it did. My mother knew I would’ve gone anyway. She knew who I was, and she knew it was pointless to try to argue. Walter didn’t know me though, and if he was really any sort of father, he should have cared.
“Kate,” started Henry, but I stood, pulling my hand from his. He could only shield me for so long before he paid the price, and I wasn’t going to let that happen. I had to learn how to control my abilities. I had to learn how to protect myself, if only so I could protect Henry and our son.
“You need to rest,” I said sharper than I intended. Leaning down, I kissed his cheek, a silent apology. “I love you. I just need to be alone right now.”
He caught my lips with his, and a long moment passed before he finally broke away. After giving him a small smile, I ducked my head and hurried off toward the suites, silently praying no one would follow me. Of course they would, though. If Henry didn’t, James would, and if James didn’t—
“Sweetheart.”
If James didn’t, my mother would.
I slowed to give her the chance to catch up, but I didn’t stop. What would she do if she found out about the deal I’d made with Cronus? Would she help? Tell the rest of the council? I couldn’t be sure, and that mistrust hurt like hell. I should’ve been able to confide in my own mother without worrying about the consequences.
“I just want to be alone,” I mumbled, but she draped her arm across my shoulders and fell into step beside me. I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t. Even if the anxiety of waiting and worrying for her to come back was gone, there would be a next time. There was always a next time, and I didn’t want to beat myself up about turning her away now like I had before I’d left with James.
“You shouldn’t be alone right now,” she said, and there was something underneath her words I didn’t understand.
She was right, though. If I had my way, I’d never be alone again, but I no longer had any guarantees. If the worst happened—if the council didn’t discover a way to stop Calliope and imprison Cronus once more—then I might have Milo, but I would be Cronus’s plaything for eternity. And I would rather Milo die and spend the rest of forever oblivious in the Underworld than be subjected to the same fate.
My mother led me to her bedroom, and as she entered, the branches of her bed frame flowered with magenta blossoms. I sat down on the edge of her mattress and inhaled. They smelled like summertime.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about your father sooner,” she said, rubbing my back, and I let myself relax under her touch. After years of wondering when her last moment would be, I no longer had it in me to be angry with her.
“It’s all right,” I said, although it wasn’t. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I selfishly wanted to keep you for myself.” Settling in behind me, she combed her fingers through my hair and began to braid it. “I loved our life together. I missed the council, but having you more than made up for it. I hadn’t been that happy since—”
She stopped short, and I stared at my hands. She didn’t need to finish for me to know what she was going to say. “Since you had Persephone,” I mumbled.
“Yes. Since I had Persephone.” She shook out the braid she’d managed in those few seconds and began again. “I raised you as a mortal because I believed that kind of life, away from this grandiose existence, would give you the best possible chance of passing the tests. But along the way, I discovered how much happier I was when it was just the two of us lost in the sea of humanity. And if I ever allowed Walter into our lives, that would have shattered.”
“But if Walter’s immortal, and you’re immortal, then why wasn’t I?” I said. It seemed like such a small, unimportant question in the scheme of things, but I needed small and unimportant right now.
“Because I had you in my mortal form.” She began on a smaller braid, weaving it together with the larger one. “That was part of my bargain with the council. Demigods—and you have always been a demigod, darling—are not immortal, but they can earn immortality, as can mortals.”
“Why have Henry marry a mortal to begin with?” I said. “Why not—I don’t know. Why not just have me and marry me off to him?”
She laughed softly. “And how well would that have gone over, do you think? I learned my lesson with Persephone. Henry wanted a willing queen, one who understood the price of death, and he insisted on mortal candidates. The council did consider having you born immortal, of course, since the others died very mortal deaths, but Calliope was the one to insist that you not be born a goddess.” Her voice dropped as if she’d just realized what it meant, two decades too late. “I thought it was because she wanted the same things as Henry—that she did not want to push another girl toward a marriage and a role they did not want, only to once again end in disaster.”