The Goddess Test
Page 52
“What if I can’t handle it?” I said. “What if I fail miserably and you have to find someone else?”
It was a long moment before he responded. “That is what the tests are for. I have already done my part in choosing you, and I believe you are capable of handling it. My brothers and sisters test you because with this task comes a great amount of responsibility, and there is no room for error. If you cannot do it, then you will not. It is simple.”
There was nothing simple about it, but I couldn’t focus on what would happen afterward while I still had to make it to spring. Even if I passed all of the tests, if the council didn’t like me, all of this speculation was pointless. I already had one vote against me with James. If they needed a unanimous ruling, it was already over.
“Henry?” I said quietly. He stared straight ahead at the tree. “You know I want to pass, right?”
“I concluded as much, yes, given you are still here.”
I ignored his sarcasm. His hand was warm underneath mine, and I squeezed it. “It isn’t only because of my mother. It’s because of you, too. I know you’ve been trying for a really long time, and I know I’m just another silly little girl trying to help out, and I know you think I’m going to fail, but—I like you, Henry, and I’m doing this for you, too, okay? I don’t want you to fade.”
Even though he wasn’t looking at me, I could see his lips twist into a mirthless smirk. “You could never be just another silly little girl,” he said. “I do not wish to influence you or make this more difficult on you than it already must be, but do not think I do not care about what happens to you, Kate. Perhaps it is impossible that anyone takes Persephone’s place, but if that is the case, it is out of no failure of your own. But if anyone is capable of it, I am certain it is you.”
“Then please don’t give up,” I said. “I’ll never be Persephone, and I know that, but—we could be friends. And you wouldn’t have to be alone anymore.”
Henry looked away, hiding his face completely from my view. But when he spoke, his voice was tight, as if he were struggling to keep it steady.
“I would very much like that,” he said, and I released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and wriggled out of his grip. He didn’t look at me, but he did set his hand back in his lap.
“Can I give you my present now?” I said. “I promise it’s not poisoned.”
He rewarded my tasteless joke with a wry half smile. I untangled myself from the blankets, ducked underneath my bed to retrieve a large package wrapped in gold, and carried it over to him. To my surprise, there was a present where I’d been sitting moments before.
“Your gift,” he said. “Also not poisoned.”
“Thank you,” I said. I sat down and handed him his, but he set it aside as he watched me open mine. I pushed the silver wrapping paper away, revealing a plain box. Squinting in the low light, I pulled off the lid and pushed away the tissue paper, exposing a framed black-and-white photo.
I froze. It was my favorite picture of my mother and me, from when I was seven years old. We were in the middle of Central Park on my birthday, the exact spot where we met every night in my dreams, and we’d spread out an entire picnic, only to have it ruined by a large dog that had gotten loose from its owner. The only things that had survived were the cupcakes I’d helped her make.
In the picture, we sat in the middle of the mess that’d been our lunch, each holding a cupcake. Chocolate with purple frosting, I remembered, a smile tugging at my lips. She had her arms around me, and while we were both smiling, we weren’t looking at the camera. The owner of the dog had taken a number of photos of us to make up for ruining our picnic, and in the end, this had been the one that had spent the past eleven years framed on my bedside table.
But as I stared at it, I realized it wasn’t the same. It had depth to it, like the picture in Persephone’s room. A reflection, Henry had called it, but unlike the one with him and Persephone, this one wasn’t a hope or a wish. It was real.
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “Henry, I don’t—”
He held up a hand, and I fell silent. “Not until I’ve opened yours as well.”
I waited, my vision blurry, as he unwrapped the large box. It’d taken me four tries to get the wrapping right. Lifting the lid, he paused. “What is this?” he said, puzzled as he examined the blanket I’d meticulously decorated. I’d refused to let anyone else help me, even though I knew it would’ve taken days instead of weeks if I had.
“It’s the night sky,” I said, hugging my picture to my chest. “See the dots? They’re stars. I remembered what you said about the stars moving. You said they were different when you met Persephone, and—this is how they are now. When you met me.”
Henry studied the constellations I’d painstakingly arranged on the blanket, and he gently brushed his fingers across the one I recognized as the Maiden. Virgo. Kore.
“Thank you.” He looked at me with his eyes made of moonlight, and something had changed. The barrier that had been there all this time was gone, and for a moment he almost looked like a different person. “For everything. I have never received such a wonderful gift.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I’m not so sure I believe that.”
“You should.” He continued to run his hand across the fabric. “It has been a very long time since I’ve received a gift as extraordinary as you.”
It was a long moment before he responded. “That is what the tests are for. I have already done my part in choosing you, and I believe you are capable of handling it. My brothers and sisters test you because with this task comes a great amount of responsibility, and there is no room for error. If you cannot do it, then you will not. It is simple.”
There was nothing simple about it, but I couldn’t focus on what would happen afterward while I still had to make it to spring. Even if I passed all of the tests, if the council didn’t like me, all of this speculation was pointless. I already had one vote against me with James. If they needed a unanimous ruling, it was already over.
“Henry?” I said quietly. He stared straight ahead at the tree. “You know I want to pass, right?”
“I concluded as much, yes, given you are still here.”
I ignored his sarcasm. His hand was warm underneath mine, and I squeezed it. “It isn’t only because of my mother. It’s because of you, too. I know you’ve been trying for a really long time, and I know I’m just another silly little girl trying to help out, and I know you think I’m going to fail, but—I like you, Henry, and I’m doing this for you, too, okay? I don’t want you to fade.”
Even though he wasn’t looking at me, I could see his lips twist into a mirthless smirk. “You could never be just another silly little girl,” he said. “I do not wish to influence you or make this more difficult on you than it already must be, but do not think I do not care about what happens to you, Kate. Perhaps it is impossible that anyone takes Persephone’s place, but if that is the case, it is out of no failure of your own. But if anyone is capable of it, I am certain it is you.”
“Then please don’t give up,” I said. “I’ll never be Persephone, and I know that, but—we could be friends. And you wouldn’t have to be alone anymore.”
Henry looked away, hiding his face completely from my view. But when he spoke, his voice was tight, as if he were struggling to keep it steady.
“I would very much like that,” he said, and I released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and wriggled out of his grip. He didn’t look at me, but he did set his hand back in his lap.
“Can I give you my present now?” I said. “I promise it’s not poisoned.”
He rewarded my tasteless joke with a wry half smile. I untangled myself from the blankets, ducked underneath my bed to retrieve a large package wrapped in gold, and carried it over to him. To my surprise, there was a present where I’d been sitting moments before.
“Your gift,” he said. “Also not poisoned.”
“Thank you,” I said. I sat down and handed him his, but he set it aside as he watched me open mine. I pushed the silver wrapping paper away, revealing a plain box. Squinting in the low light, I pulled off the lid and pushed away the tissue paper, exposing a framed black-and-white photo.
I froze. It was my favorite picture of my mother and me, from when I was seven years old. We were in the middle of Central Park on my birthday, the exact spot where we met every night in my dreams, and we’d spread out an entire picnic, only to have it ruined by a large dog that had gotten loose from its owner. The only things that had survived were the cupcakes I’d helped her make.
In the picture, we sat in the middle of the mess that’d been our lunch, each holding a cupcake. Chocolate with purple frosting, I remembered, a smile tugging at my lips. She had her arms around me, and while we were both smiling, we weren’t looking at the camera. The owner of the dog had taken a number of photos of us to make up for ruining our picnic, and in the end, this had been the one that had spent the past eleven years framed on my bedside table.
But as I stared at it, I realized it wasn’t the same. It had depth to it, like the picture in Persephone’s room. A reflection, Henry had called it, but unlike the one with him and Persephone, this one wasn’t a hope or a wish. It was real.
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “Henry, I don’t—”
He held up a hand, and I fell silent. “Not until I’ve opened yours as well.”
I waited, my vision blurry, as he unwrapped the large box. It’d taken me four tries to get the wrapping right. Lifting the lid, he paused. “What is this?” he said, puzzled as he examined the blanket I’d meticulously decorated. I’d refused to let anyone else help me, even though I knew it would’ve taken days instead of weeks if I had.
“It’s the night sky,” I said, hugging my picture to my chest. “See the dots? They’re stars. I remembered what you said about the stars moving. You said they were different when you met Persephone, and—this is how they are now. When you met me.”
Henry studied the constellations I’d painstakingly arranged on the blanket, and he gently brushed his fingers across the one I recognized as the Maiden. Virgo. Kore.
“Thank you.” He looked at me with his eyes made of moonlight, and something had changed. The barrier that had been there all this time was gone, and for a moment he almost looked like a different person. “For everything. I have never received such a wonderful gift.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I’m not so sure I believe that.”
“You should.” He continued to run his hand across the fabric. “It has been a very long time since I’ve received a gift as extraordinary as you.”
