Read Online Radiant Darkness by Emily Whitman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Emily Whitman
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me an appraising stare. I stare back.
The path to the river is hot in the morning sun, but before long, running water and birdsong reach my ears, and then the grass turns silky, softening my steps.
The riverbanks are full of people, some lounging about, some singing, others playing games of dice. One woman rests on her back with her eyes closed, humming under her breath. So much for my vision of mournful shades wailing in despair!
I stand still for a few minutes, watching, relieved that no one is paying me any attention. But the longer I stand there, the stranger it seems. Everyone is smiling; everyone looks not only happy but ecstatic. It's unreal, like I'm gazing at a scene painted on a vase and the figures are starting to move across the clay.
The sound of splashing makes my feet itch for cool, lapping water. I stroll around a bend, looking for a private spot where I can wade in alone. In a few minutes I come to a curve in the bank where a pale-leafed tree stands guard, and I pause, listening.
I still hear singing, but it's no longer drifting over from the shades. No, the song seems to rise from the river itself. It ripples through me until I'm swaying to its rhythm. My feet start dancing a graceful grapevine toward the water, and as I dance, the morning's worries lift off my shoulders. Hades' disappearance, getting lost in the castle, my total ignorance about how to play queen—the river's music is carrying it all away. I'm humming, then singing along to a gentle, alluring song whose words I somehow know.
I lift my chiton above my knees, ready to wade in, when a faint shout interrupts the music. I shake my head like a horse trying to get rid of an annoying fly, but the harsh noise comes again and again. I look up, irritated. There's a rider galloping from the palace, waving a hand frantically overhead.
My toes wiggle deeper into the grass. I raise my chiton
another inch as the black horse devours the ground with its hooves and the rider's cloak streams out behind him.
It's Hades.
Hades! A burst of pleasure fills me—look how fast he's rushing to reach me! His tenderness last night suffuses my body again, and I melt. I'll wait for him. We'll go for a swim together, and then he'll explain why he wasn't by my side when I woke.
He gallops up, leaps from the horse's sweating back, and pulls me roughly aside.
"Not that river!" he says, his voice raspy. "Anywhere but there." He's holding my arm too hard. It hurts. "By Cerberus, it's good I came when I did."
That's not what I expected to hear. Where's the apology? The kiss? So I answer sharply, "It's good you came when you did? It's good you abandoned me to wake up all alone? I didn't even know there'd be sun! I thought there'd be moaning wraiths everywhere!"
"I've been away so much, I had business to attend to." He lets go of my arm so he can put both hands on my shoulders. "How was I to know you rise before the birds? I came back to wake you and you were gone. And the way jewels and clothing were scattered around, it looked like thieves had snatched you away."
His anxious voice, his creased brow . . . "You were worried!" I exclaim. "You!"
Because of me.
I kiss him, not caring who sees. But the shades keep humming and playing on the banks, oblivious.
Finally Hades says, "Come." He leads me to the tree and we sit under its leafy branches. He wraps an arm around my shoulders. I lean into his side, and when he speaks, I feel his voice vibrating in his chest.
"When I came back to our room this morning, I was looking forward to waking you myself. And then, actually, I planned to bring you here. To show you your new home's beauties. And its dangers."
He looks pointedly at the river. It flows just as gently and innocuously as before.
I snort. "Dangers! It's not exactly a raging torrent. And it's already full of people. If the river's so dangerous, why
The path to the river is hot in the morning sun, but before long, running water and birdsong reach my ears, and then the grass turns silky, softening my steps.
The riverbanks are full of people, some lounging about, some singing, others playing games of dice. One woman rests on her back with her eyes closed, humming under her breath. So much for my vision of mournful shades wailing in despair!
I stand still for a few minutes, watching, relieved that no one is paying me any attention. But the longer I stand there, the stranger it seems. Everyone is smiling; everyone looks not only happy but ecstatic. It's unreal, like I'm gazing at a scene painted on a vase and the figures are starting to move across the clay.
The sound of splashing makes my feet itch for cool, lapping water. I stroll around a bend, looking for a private spot where I can wade in alone. In a few minutes I come to a curve in the bank where a pale-leafed tree stands guard, and I pause, listening.
I still hear singing, but it's no longer drifting over from the shades. No, the song seems to rise from the river itself. It ripples through me until I'm swaying to its rhythm. My feet start dancing a graceful grapevine toward the water, and as I dance, the morning's worries lift off my shoulders. Hades' disappearance, getting lost in the castle, my total ignorance about how to play queen—the river's music is carrying it all away. I'm humming, then singing along to a gentle, alluring song whose words I somehow know.
I lift my chiton above my knees, ready to wade in, when a faint shout interrupts the music. I shake my head like a horse trying to get rid of an annoying fly, but the harsh noise comes again and again. I look up, irritated. There's a rider galloping from the palace, waving a hand frantically overhead.
My toes wiggle deeper into the grass. I raise my chiton
another inch as the black horse devours the ground with its hooves and the rider's cloak streams out behind him.
It's Hades.
Hades! A burst of pleasure fills me—look how fast he's rushing to reach me! His tenderness last night suffuses my body again, and I melt. I'll wait for him. We'll go for a swim together, and then he'll explain why he wasn't by my side when I woke.
He gallops up, leaps from the horse's sweating back, and pulls me roughly aside.
"Not that river!" he says, his voice raspy. "Anywhere but there." He's holding my arm too hard. It hurts. "By Cerberus, it's good I came when I did."
That's not what I expected to hear. Where's the apology? The kiss? So I answer sharply, "It's good you came when you did? It's good you abandoned me to wake up all alone? I didn't even know there'd be sun! I thought there'd be moaning wraiths everywhere!"
"I've been away so much, I had business to attend to." He lets go of my arm so he can put both hands on my shoulders. "How was I to know you rise before the birds? I came back to wake you and you were gone. And the way jewels and clothing were scattered around, it looked like thieves had snatched you away."
His anxious voice, his creased brow . . . "You were worried!" I exclaim. "You!"
Because of me.
I kiss him, not caring who sees. But the shades keep humming and playing on the banks, oblivious.
Finally Hades says, "Come." He leads me to the tree and we sit under its leafy branches. He wraps an arm around my shoulders. I lean into his side, and when he speaks, I feel his voice vibrating in his chest.
"When I came back to our room this morning, I was looking forward to waking you myself. And then, actually, I planned to bring you here. To show you your new home's beauties. And its dangers."
He looks pointedly at the river. It flows just as gently and innocuously as before.
I snort. "Dangers! It's not exactly a raging torrent. And it's already full of people. If the river's so dangerous, why
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