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“Persephone,” he whispered. “Now back to my question. Pandora, could you be happy here.”
I could nearly hear him add, ‘With me.’
I watch the grass sway in the wind. “Give me time. This is an adjustment for me. When it was my dad and I, we moved so frequently that we never established roots in one place.” Sighing, I fiddle with my chiton dress. My loose-fitting tunic is a lightweight wool but now, it feels constricting. I pull at the corded belt at my waist and adjust the clasp at my shoulders, loosening both before refastening it. “But yes, I think I could be happy here… with you.”
Realization creeps across his face. Pure glee. “Your gardening skills are uncanny.” He bends over, picking a nearby daffodil before returning to my side. “Would you be okay if I stayed here with you for a bit?” Kindly he requests. “It is peaceful here.”
“Of course,” I grin. “I'm happy you like it. Now I'm going to finish my rounds with the plants.”
Standing, I turn back to Apollo, who’s lounging on his chair. A lyre now set gently on his lap, “Would you mind if I played a bit of music?”
“Have at it,” Turning, I kneel at a nearby patch to be weeded. The strings are softly plucked. Warm and reverberating like the sun, he plays long strings of melodies. The music is like a dream, delicate and ethereal, a beautiful contrast to the grounded joy and presence of gardening.
The tingle of magic in the air seems to continue rising. I could feel it in my soul and on my skin. My entire being feels like it's on edge. Waiting for some unknown need.
When I asked Athena what was happening, she simply said that it comes when we’re around a solstice or equinox. People can get a bit restless.
Sitting in my room, I noticed I would start to fidget like I hadn’t moved in days. The restlessness began to overwhelm me, I tried pacing my room but found no relief. The anxious energy in my muscles demanding… anything so long as I wasn’t motionless. I had hoped a bath would help soothe my nervous energy but that turned out exactly opposite of what I intended. My entire body feels too… sensitive, leaving me wanting what I shouldn’t be dwelling on yet.
Leaving me craving Apollo.
But he’s busy. Doing god knows what. So I need to distract myself.
Instead, I attempt to fill my day pacing my room. It's so mind-numbingly boring at times. Even books couldn’t hold my interest.
If Agatha saw me now, she’d probably swear that the ambrosia is going to my head and playing tricks on me.
Maybe it is.
Pushing the restlessness out of me, I focus on what’s coming.
Teatime with Uncle Ov.
As of late, it has become our weekly tradition. Not that I trust him or he trusts me. It was almost like we were keeping tabs on each other. Each of us feeling the other one out.
My most recent distraction from Apollo has been surrounding Ov. I’m trying to figure out what he is doing in the palace. For days at a time, he will be gone only to resurface once more with no explanation of what he was doing.
Watching the sundial, I waited for it to approach 2pm. Willing it to move closer to teatime in the garden.
A quarter hour before, I couldn’t wait for another moment. Slowly, I step toward the front door. Cautiously avoiding making excessive noise. Slowly, I turn the deadbolt, locking the door shut. I approach the all too familiar patch of wall between my bathroom and wardrobe.
Although I could walk through the main halls of the palace now, I thoroughly enjoyed taking the secret passageways to get where I needed to be.
Even with the damn spiders.
The hidden walkways were always an adventure. Leading to new rooms, chambers, and storage areas.
Pulling the gold leaf sconce, the door disengaged. I silently and shut the door behind me before picking up my speed. I practically skip down the worn wooden steps and platforms hidden away in the walls.
The passages are dark and much less opulent than the palace beyond. Here it was not made to be pretty. It was made for utility.
But regardless, they were an interesting adventure each time.
The iron garden stands latched. Pressing my ear to the door, I stand listening to the door. Waiting for the sound of Uncle Ov, I pause.
Several minutes pass. Standing still, wondering if perhaps he got the day wrong.
No, No. I came down here too early. My impatience would be my downfall, I joke.
