Radiant Darkness by Emily Whitman Read Free Book Online Page A

wreck. The fabric is snagged, the remnants of the pattern pulled askew. And all the hanging threads, the ones that show you where you're going, are tangled.

Lord of the Maggot

    S he appears at my door, all golden hair and floating white dress.
       "You may leave your room now. I hope this experience has taught you a lesson."
       "Yes, Mother. I'm sorry."
       Anything she wants to hear, I'll say. Anything that will get me back to the meadow before another day goes by.
       All yesterday I was trapped in this room, watching the sun rise, and peak, and set. Staring out the window with nothing to do but repeat his name over and over and over. Hades, Lord of the Dead.
       The name he never told me. And I know why. Again, I picture Leda and her amorous swan, and a bitter taste fills my mouth.
       "I think I'll go down to the lake," I say, feigning indifference, "if that's all right with you."
       She stands aside to let me pass. "Yes. Thank you for letting me know."
       I stroll out the door and down the path, trying to look nonchalant.
       The air is stifling, full and floral, and I want to clear it away with a knife. I glance back. The house is out of sight, so I walk faster.
       Hades. Ruler of every mortal shade and one-third of all creation. I intrigue him, do I? My hands clench into fists.
    We have some talking to do.

    I burst past the plum trees into the meadow. Hades is sitting on the edge of his chariot, smiling. Then he sees my face and stands. Abastor looks over and flicks his ears warily.
       "I know who you are." My voice is as taut as an overstretched rope.
       "Good."
       How can he look so calm? He takes a step toward me; I take two back.
       "Good?" My fists tighten at my sides. "How can you say that? You never even told me your name, and now I know why! You were deceiving me! Letting me think you were some river god, just like Zeus with his little disguises. You were lying!"
       He shakes his head, but his eyes stay on mine. "I never lied to you."
       He walks up to me and takes my hand, trying to open my fingers. I yank my hand back.
       "Nothing is complete with just one side," he says, pressing closer. "You said so yourself. You stroked the earth as if you heard it calling from below. But now that you know who I am, you fear me, hate me, like all the rest of them. And you wonder why I waited to tell you my name?"
       Now his face is only inches from mine; his words, relentless.
       "I'm used to scorn. Gods and mortals alike shun what they can't see. They don't want to think about the fragile thread binding body to soul. They hear a sick woman's wail and they think of me. They bury a maimed soldier and they think of me. They call me lord of the maggot and rotting flesh. And you wonder why I waited to tell you my name?"
       He pauses, lifting a tender hand to my cheek. When he speaks again, his voice is suddenly intimate. "But I thought you, and you alone, understood. I heard you say it yourself: everything needs change. Life needs death to quicken against. Yes, I waited to say my name, waited for you to know me as I am. But how can you say I deceived you?"
    I'm starting to melt toward his hand. I force myself to
    turn away, gathering my anger around me like armor. Then I whirl back to face him.
       "Why don't you go try that smooth voice on someone else?" I say. "Fear? No! But if I'd known who you are, I would have seen the rest of it, too. You're not serious about me! No, a lord like you—with a third of all existence to rule—you need a r eal queen by your side. Someone who knows about power, and palaces, and the ways of mortals and gods!"
       I glance down at my bare feet, my simple linen chiton. Then I glare back up into his eyes.
       "There I was, just floating along on your charm, all innocent, not thinking beyond the next second by your side, the next touch of your hand. But as soon as I heard your name . . ." My voice drops low, a