Player's Princess (A Royal Sports Romance)(111)

“I know the story.”

He looks up. “Story?”

“Of Persephone. In Greek mythology, Persephone is the queen of Hell. Hades, the brother of Zeus, ruled in the Underworld.”

“Correct, but the Greek Underworld is not Hell only. A common misconception. Tartarus is Hell, but the Underworld also contained Elysium, a realm of beauty and solace. Do you know the rest of the story?”

He’s not a year older than I am, but I feel like I’m staring down a professor, testing me with questions he already knows the answers to. For some reason my bare shoulders make me feel naked. Possibly because his eyes rake over my skin. It’s a shivery feeling, and oddly pleasant. I shift in my seat.

“Yes. Hades was a melancholy god, and kept himself from the affairs of the mortal world. He wasn’t lusty like his brothers Zeus and Poseidon. He didn’t abduct nymphs or father heroes on mortal women, like Hercules and Perseus. He remained in his kingdom, judging the dead.”

“Some say Minos, father of the Minotaur, judged the dead.”

“Yes, there’s different versions. Anyway, Hades saw Persephone and was smitten with her, so he kidnapped her away and took her back to Hell, but Persephone was the daughter of Demeter, the goddess of agriculture and the harvest.”

“Go on,” he says.

I poke the pomegranate with my fork.

“Demeter’s wrath was terrible, and she made the whole of nature die. People began to starve and they begged Zeus to intervene, but he couldn’t, because by ancient agreement he had no power in Hades’ realm.”

The prince nods. “Do you know how it ends?”

“Sometimes with a treaty, but sometimes with a trick. Some say another god interceded and convinced Hades to let Persephone spend half the year with her mother and half in Hell with him. During the time of year when Persephone stayed with Demeter, the world bloomed and spring and summer came. Then when Persephone went to join Hades in Hell for six months, Demeter’s sorrow brought fall and winter, and then her return gave the world spring again.”

“What about the pomegranate?”

“In some versions of the story, Persephone is tricked. Hades promises her that she can go home, but there was a law in hell that anyone who ate the food there would have to stay. Even Hades himself could not break that law. Persephone knew about it, but she became so hungry while Zeus and Hades argued that she ate a single seed from a pomegranate, like this one,” I lift it in my hand, “so she was bound by the law of Hell to remain there with Hades forever. But Zeus convinced Hades to let her return for part of the year, or else Demeter would starve the world and there would be no one to worship the gods.”

The prince nods.

“Yes. That is the story. There is no magic in the fruit, Persephone. It’s just breakfast.”

I eye it. “I think I’ll skip it anyway.”

The rest of it is good. I was expecting beet-pickled eggs but these taste completely different, kind of tart, and the yolk filling is rich and spicy, so much that I have to take a drink of water after I eat them. The sausage is delicious.

“It’s wild boar,” the prince says, watching me eat. “There is more if you like.”

I set my fork down.

“My friend Melissa. What have you done with her?”

“As I said, she was taken to the hospital.”

“She wasn’t hurt. Why did you send her to the hospital and bring me here?”

“A little twist of your ankle will heal itself. Your friend…Melissa? Her body was not hurt but her mind is unwell. She will be treated kindly. You have my word.”

“What about the other woman, Danielle?”

He gives me a grim frown. “What is the expression you use? It is touch and go. The bullets missed her heart but shredded her lung and one hit her spine. She may not walk again.”

I feel a cold ball form in my stomach.

“Melissa needs to go home.”

“That is not possible now.”

“She needs to see her family.”

“She will not leave. It is not safe. Nor will you.”

“Can I call my parents? Please? I need them to know I’m alive.”

“No.”

I grip the fork hard and slam the blunt end down on the table.

“You can’t just keep me here like this. Who do you think you are?”

“I am the crown prince,” he says, shrugging. He looks at me like that’s adequate explanation.

“I don’t care if you’re king shit of f*ck mountain, you can’t just hold me prisoner like this. I’m an American citizen. I have rights.”

“I can if I wish. Or I can throw you in the dungeon.”

I stare at him.

“Seriously? Like an actual dungeon?”

He blinks a few times. “Yes. What do you propose that I call it?”

“Um, jail? I don’t know. You’re not going to throw me in a dungeon.”

“You presume to tell me what I can and cannot do?”

I swallow, hard.

“Yeah, I do. You can abuse your own people all you want but I’m an American. Once they know I’m here they’ll send the Marines to get me or something. That’s why you’re so afraid somebody will find out about us.”

He stands.