We are seated beside one another, on a throne of iron and flowers made for two.

The wedding ceremony will take place once all the guests have greeted us— an odd tradition, I had thought, until I realise the elaborate politics about to take place. Hadrian takes my hand in his, and I glance quickly at him. His fingers are warm, reassuring. He wears a starch-white shirt, beautiful and crisp, beneath a deep ice-grey charcoal suit. His knee jiggles— it's unnoticeable, but I'm sitting so close, our legs almost touching, that I sense the vibration from the movement. We are two travellers about to make our maiden voyage: his legs jitter, my stomach flips over. Both our hearts race.

Jefferson announces the well-wishers as one by one, or in small groups, people step forward.

The workers within the palace step forward, one group representing the whole. They leave us flowers and simple goods at our altar. I spot people I know, people that have looked after me— my dressmaker, the serving girl I'd duped into giving me a key to Hadrian's rooms, the odd old woman from the night I'd been announced as Bride...but plenty I did not know, and could not place. Hadrian knew each by every name, every job— he introduced me, welcomed them, and accepted their gifts with an easy elegance that I marvelled at.

When Nate comes in, I jump up. He rushes to me, and I wrap my arms around him, holding him close.

'Today is such an exciting day!' he whispers as we pull back, and I give him one more hug.

'I'll see you later,' I say, and he nods. Then, to my surprise, my brother speaks to Hadrian.

I don't hear what they say— but I watch their expressions. Soft, happy. My brother gives Hadrian a warm embrace too, and Hadrian hugs him tightly back.

My smile returns, along with a warmth in my belly that I can't put out.

Next, there comes Sybella and Char, our Best Man and self-appointed 'Best Maiden'. Sybella places yellow frilly baby shoes at my feet and winks, and my glare isn't enough to wipe the smirk from her face. Char's present looks much more appropriate; something alcoholic and fizzy.

I'm surprised when the three old women from Elysium stroll down the aisle, nattering away as though the ceremony isn't a quiet and dignified affair. They're as gruesome as I recall; stitched eyes, weathered and scaly skin like a lizard's only several times too small, and pulled taut. The Three Fates survey us in their uncanny way, and Hadrian's hand clamps on mine.

'Greetings,' says the first Fate.

'To the lovely couple,' the second Fate adds.

'Well, one of them is lovely,' the third Fate mutters loud enough to hear.

'Please take our gift,' the sentence is spoken by the First.

Then the second ends it. 'Of one question regarding the future.'

'We shall answer that question for you,' the First fate says.

'There is no time limit,' the Second says.

'Although time is a limit if the event occurs before you've even asked the question,' the Third Fate mutters once more.

'You may have one question each,' the First says.

'But you may not know the other's answer,' the Second replies.

'I sometimes give out hints free of charge, though,' the Third Fate says, pondering out loud. 'I did say see you at the wedding.'

With Hadrian speechless, I'm left to thank them for their unusual offering. I can't help but hope I never need it, although I won't dare say so.

Instead, I say, 'Thank you. How will we contact you?'

'Find a quiet spot,' the third Moirai says, 'and speak these words.'

They hand each of us a small, bound scroll. I open mine, and read the words quickly. As soon as I read them, the paper disintegrates into ashes, that sweep away across my dress and onto the floor. Beside me, Hadrian is encountering the same.

I swallow, the words etched into my mind.

"Heed the call of Nerissa Cora Soteira, Queen of the Underworld. I ask to summon the Fate of the Past, to invoke our payment." The message was repeated twice more, with either "Present" or "Future" as the remainders.

'To ask a question regarding the past, you must ask to summon the First,' the First Moirai continues.

'To ask a question regarding the present day, you must ask to summon the Second,' the Second Moirai says.

'And if you are brave,' the Third Moirai chuckles, 'If you are brave and seek to know the future, summon me, the Third.'

I sense the challenge in her words, and my heart drums a little faster. And I'm curious: what question will I ask? Will I need to know the future?

But my throat croaks, 'You say Queen...'

The Third Fate cocks her head, eerily. Her sightless face roams over mine, calculating. 'Are you not?'

I pray that the blush does not creep up beyond my neck, and that nobody else has overhead. But how could they not?

And what does it matter? After tonight, they'll know.

Hadrian's grace returns as he thanks the Fates profusely, as though it's an everyday occurrence to be greeted by the old woman that could tell you everything about your life, and more. They hobble away, cackling in low voices, and watch the proceedings.

The Spring Court guests arrive. Hadrian rises to greet them as Quillan, dressed in a fine suit and obligatory green tie, sweeps into the hall. Behind him, I gasp to see an entourage of green stride into the hall. Dryades, surrounding the beautiful figure of Dio, throw flowers and play music, lilting harmonies played on flutes and lyres. Dio's group bring so many gifts, they encumber the dais we sit on. I spy baskets of fruit, bottles of wine, and even paintings and carvings.

'You look fantastic, Nerissa!' Dionysus roars in joy. His presence makes Hadrian startle, and I actually laugh. My husband-to-be gives me a look of frank disbelief.

I pull my tongue at him. 'I can laugh, you know,' I say, aside, before greeting my guests. Hadrian recognises quickly that he knows few of the Spring courtiers, and I make introductions. Dio warms to him as soon as they shake hands, pulling him into a crushing hug.

'Nerissa is an amazing woman,' Dio, with his arms still around Hadrian, gives him an almost confiding look. 'So, I'll tell you a secret: if you make her unhappy, if she even looks unhappy, I'll return here and plague you with madness.'

And he lets a wide-eyed Hadrian go. I grin.

'There you go,' I shrug. 'The God of Wine has my back.'

'Not just wine!' Dio shouts as he makes his way back into his entourage.

I'm surprised when Kieron emerges from behind the group, the only centaur amongst the crowd. His body bows low.

'A radiant King and Queen,' he inclines his head, a warm smile on his lips. 'I bring you the gift of tutelage, my lady. Again, I offer you my service in helping you learn your wonderful gift of spring.'

'Thank you, Kieron,' I say, with genuine gratitude. 'I am sure I will be able to visit you soon. Or perhaps you could stay here?'

Kieron's hooves shuffle, and he looks uncertain.

'But I would rather visit Spring,' I say quickly, and he relief replaces his doubtful demeanour.

He bows low again, shuffling off. Then, Quillan opens the great doors for the final guest of Spring.

The scent of rose and pinewood flutters through the door, and Cerelia sweeps in.

Her dress is the palest of pinks, gentle and formal in a way that makes me nervous. Hadrian's sharp intake of breath affirms my general uneasiness. Cerelia's eyes dart around the room, marking the people within. Then she strides up to us and holds out a hand.

I'm grateful to the extreme when Hadrian stands and kisses it, as if it's no insult at all. Cerelia's eyes soften, and she smiles demurely.

'Daughter,' she nods to me, 'And now, a son. A lucky day for us all.'

Then why is your tone so sour, Mother? I can't stop my eyebrow from quirking in defiance.

She places a fruit upon my lap. A pomegranate, red and blooming. Purple-pink stains my fingers, so I hold it away from my dress.

'A symbol,' she continues to smile, 'To remember the day my daughter was trapped here, body and spirit, to this place.'

I don't bother to hide my annoyance— I can't. I roll the pomegranate towards my other gifts, surreptitiously trying to wipe my hands off the juice.

'Lovely, but a little bit too red,' I say, as breezily as I can. 'I would hate it to ruin my dress, after all Hadrian and I have been through to reach this day.'

And I give him a beaming smile.

Cerelia's smile widens.

'Thank you,' I say, dismissing her. I can't tell what expression crosses her face, but it isn't pretty. My gut churns with distrust.

What are they up to? We've planned ahead; our guests are decoration, hiding the soldiers awaiting orders outside of the castle, out of sight from the guests of Spring. If they attack from within, we have them surrounded.

So, what am I missing? Again, the thought niggles. Even if Hecate shows, we have her surrounded, too.

Unless she has an army, I think ruefully.

The next person to sweep in is a stranger. A tall woman, clad in armour the colour of starlight, and thick dark hair that hangs in braids down her back, makes her way down the aisle. As she approaches, she pulls off the helmet that was covering most of her face, revealing the strongest looking woman I've ever seen. Feathery eyebrows punch together to form a determined and calculating expression, and her mouth is set into a line of taking-no-shit.

At her hip, I eye the long, deadly sword that hangs in a scabbard of rubies and emeralds, with an owl carved into the pommel. The woman's hand never strays too far away from it. She's left handed, I notice, and on guard.

Maybe she also is expecting an army, I think.

'Athena,' Hadrian says, and there's reverence in his voice. 'Are you the representative from Olympus?'

Athena— I catch myself holding my breath. Olympus is the mother city of the gods, the capital city, the city where most of the gods live. And for them to send Athena, one of the most powerful of all...

Was she expecting an army? I release my breath, finally, as she greets us normally.

'My best wishes to the happy couple,' she gives a polite, dignified smile. 'My gift to you is my sword and my knowledge. My sword in that I will come to your aid, and my knowledge, in that you may have access to the library of Olympus at any time.'

As she walks away, Hadrian flashes me a look. He's as surprised as I am, mouthing, 'ATHENA?' from a short distance of a few inches. I roll my eyes.

With the guests introduced and the gifts given, Char stands up to give his speech.

The room falls silent, listening and waiting. Confident and warm Char exhales, clasping shaky hands behind his back.

'Honoured guests,' he begins, and his shoulders loosen with each word, 'We are here to celebrate the wedding of these wonderful people. I must tell you, I've known Hadrian a long time. A very long time. I've known Nerissa for much less, but my job is to tell you embarrassing stories of both.'

My mouth twitches. I hadn't realised that human and gods shared the same wedding traditions. I wondered what Char would have to say about me.

Like you're a fucking angel, my inner voice snickers.

'I knew when Hadrian had met someone special,' Char continues, and now his hands are moving with the story, emphasising. 'We'd been patrolling some of the areas near the river, and he comes back, white as a ghost, and starts muttering about underwear. Underwear,' he repeats this for emphasis, and the crowd laughs.

'So, all I had to go on was that the mystery woman had shown him her panties out by the river, and half of me wondered how it had happened. The other half just wondered why I hadn't come across any half-naked women whilst out on patrol!'

More laughter. Char gives a small smile.

'Anyway, it turns out, Hadrian was being as hard-headed as I know him to be: he tried to attack Nerissa, would you believe it? I think that's when he caught his feelings. One jab to the groin and I think she sucker-punched him in the heart.'

Sybella is rolling her eyes. I know she wanted to give the speech.

'And since then, the two have been on a rollercoaster,' Char laughs, shaking his head. He paces up and down. 'Their second kiss, they fell down a waterfall. Let's hope his technique improves...'

Hadrian is blushing, a red-pink glow across his cheeks. I squeeze his hand, smiling.

'But better yet their first kiss occurred during that blackout at the welcoming ball...'

There were more gasps and laughter now. Even I'm struggling for where to look, so I alternate between the ceiling and Hadrian's fingers, my own blush creeping upon me. Such an embarrassing speech, I think. He wasn't joking.

'Let's not forget the fact that they've been trying to one-up each other since that first kiss,' Char grins. 'They're the most competitive couple I've ever met.'

'Of course, Nerissa is winning,' Sybella adds, shrugging off Char's stare. 'She is fearsome as hell. Hadrian' don' know what's got him!'

'Well—' Char's ready to snap back, but we don't hear what he's going to say. The great doors slam open again, and my stomach fills with something sour. Foreboding grips me, as everyone turns to peer in slow motion at the door opening.

The woman that strides in is dressed all in black, head to toe, with her hair piled on top. Hecate looks as alluring as she had all those weeks ago, if not more excited. And behind her, following her trail, is a boy with golden hair and a beautiful tan.

I haven't seen him in weeks. I'd assumed the worst. But when Mercer peers around and meets my eyes, it's like he's never left.

But what are they doing here? Hadrian says it out loud. We all sit forward in our seats. Char's speech has trailed off, the silence loud, the dislike deafening.

Hecate's smile widens.