Pulling herself over the pool's edge, Hecate hops up onto the ice-slick stone at my side, dressed in a shimmering, high-collared black one piece.

"What do you mean, passed?"

She sweeps her blue-black waves over her shoulder with an elegant flick of her hand. The light of the pool lends an icy cast to the silvery brown of her skin.

"You're very trusting, aren't you? It worked out in my favor this time, but we're going to have to see to that."

My stomach clenches in on itself. "What's going on?"

She studies me for a moment. "Ah, you weren't in contact long enough to gain a full understanding." Then they flick to Syntrofos, who frowns. "You're not just connecting yourself to the Blue by touching that water. You're connecting yourself to any of us in it, too."

I take a step back. "What do you mean by that? You could what, read my mind?"

She laughs lightly. "Oh, nothing so invasive as that, I promise you. It's just that deception and uneasiness give off certain chemical markers—ones we here would have picked up on, if you were hiding anything."

I sputter, unsure what to say or how to respond. "You—but I—"

"Darling, there's nothing to worry about. And now we know more-or-less for sure that you're not duplicitous, and that you're safe and worthy to sit at the King's side. Well, if we can train that trusting streak out of you, that is. So long as you remain trust worthy." A hint of acid seeps into that last word. A subtle threat.

Patting me the on the shoulder, she saunters off. I turn on Syn, eyes narrowed. He at least has the grace to look ashamed. "I'm sorry, but it was necessary, and the results are more accurate if you don't know what's going on in advance. Just know that His Majesty had nothing to do with this—he was prepared to trust you on your word alone. Hecate's just doing her job."

"And you? I thought your job was to look out for me?"

"Well, yes," Syn hedges, trotting along behind me as I stomp off to the roof's edge to look out over the city again. "But I was also designed and made by subjects of the king, and it's their job to—"

"I understand," I huff, going straight up to the black metal beams to lean with my face close to the force-field, staring through its haze as snow begins to blow past just beyond it. How many more secret tests await me before I'm truly accepted here? Or was that part of what Hecate meant, when she said I need to learn not to trust? I consider the bleak possibility of viewing everyone around me as a potential threat, every interaction a game—and my heart sinks.

This is what you signed up for, I remind myself. And it's going to be worth it.

"Lady Kore," Syn's voice issues from behind me. "We should return to your room now. You'll need to prepare for dinner, soon."

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~*~

I don't have the heart to design anything new to wear in the garment synthesizer—a shame, as it would have been a wonderful opportunity to impress and possibly even dazzle Aidoneus. Instead I settle for a somber dress from my old wardrobe, a black one with subtle, shifting undertones of violet and rose. Once I've changed, Syn arranges my hair in an ornate pile atop of my head before topping it with a pair of black combs hung with strands of garnet tear drops.

Just as he's sliding the second comb into place, he looks up as though alerted to something.

"His Majesty is here," he says. "Shall I—"

But I'm already on my feet. "Open," I call, and the door whirs aside.

"Good evening," Aidoneus says, his eyes flicking briefly downwards than up again. Checking to make sure I'm fully clothed this time, perhaps? I can't help but let out a little huff of embarrassed laughter at the thought. He smiles enough to flash his fangs—something he'd been very careful not to do when I'd first met him back in Gaia. He even seems a little embarrassed himself—a surprisingly charming look, on someone so intimidating. "I thought I'd walk you up to dinner myself. Help you prepare."

I take a deep breath—partially to calm my nerves, and partially to take in his scent. He hadn't one, the first time I'd met him. Or at least, not one my weak human nose could detect. But since I've changed, he smells of the cold. Of stone and mint and icy wind, but with a hint of something warmer at its core. I imagine fire burning in snow-veiled forest in the mountains, a scene out of Old Earth that exists now only on screen.

Something about him being here brings me back to myself—just a bit. My sister never leaves the forefront of my mind, and I don't feel good. The cold of the winter's night still looms all around me—but his presence warms my soul.

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Worried I'll make a bad impression with your mother?"

He exhales in a huff. "Hardly. But it seemed cruel to throw you to the sharks without at least giving you some forewarning."

I stop in the process of following him through the door. "That doesn't exactly make me feel better."

Grimacing apologetically, he offers me an arm, and I loop mine through it, allowing him to guide me slowly forward. Though my Guardian follows as always, Syn stays behind.

"My mother's a formidable person, and she's giving up her position much earlier in life than she ever expected to, after my father—well, you know."

Feeling my shudder, he hesitates, then continues.

"She just wants to be sure about you. She's going to test you, that much I know. As to how, I can only guess."

"And what's your guess?" I peer up at him as we step into the elevator just down the hall from my chambers, disconcertingly aware of how alone we are, how close together. How soon, we'll be married, and—

"I think she'll try to get a rise out of you. To provoke your power, and see how you use it."

Ah. Of course. Everyone must be desperate to know which type I am.

I would be too, if it weren't for the minor distractions of a mortally wounded sister and completely unexpected lust for blood.

It's something every child grows up wondering about and longing to know. What type am I, if any? But to this day we're still piecing our full understanding of the psuedovirus back together after ages of ignorance. There is no test to detect one's strain, no observable differences in the pseudovirus itself from person-to-person. The only way to know is to wait however many days or weeks it takes for their abilities to manifest.

As I just woke up today, Rhea's most likely going to find herself disappointed. By the time I or anyone else knows my strain, I'll already be the queen of Hades.

To my surprise, Aidon doesn't lead me to some grand palace dining hall—but instead straight to Rhea's private suite near the top of the south tower. Sleek armored Synthes the shade of merlot wait to either side of the entrance, signaling the doors to open as we approach.

Arm-in-arm, we enter—finding ourselves facing a grand staircase carved of the same crystal-flecked black stone as much of the rest of the palace. Rhea awaits us at its top, peering down her regally arched nose at me with piercing crimson eyes.