The Persephone Variant

Chapter 17 - Fraternity

"Wow. Isn't this a little big for a dorm room?"

Aidon's hand flies up to his hair, and he turns to look out the peaked, ceiling-height window.

"Is it? My memories of university are hazy."

"It's not a dorm," pipes up Syn from behind us, setting some of my luggage up against the wall. "It's the old dean's quarters, from before they did renovations."

"Damnit, Syn," grumbles Aidon. But the Synthe just shrugs.

"She'd have figured it out as soon as she saw one of the actual dorms," he says.

"Yes, but not while I'm around to answer for it."

I frown. "I'm just worried the other students will resent me for all this special treatment."

Syntrofos comes up to stand beside me. "They'll expect it, Kore. You're a queen."

"Besides," says Aidon. "They won't resent it so much when you share the spoils. Your friends will be able to enjoy this place with you. You could throw a party or something."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "My friends?"

He swoops in to kiss the top of my head. "It's only a matter of time."

Then he lets out a small huff of air as I throw my arms about his waist and bury my face against his chest, breathing deep of his mint and mountain scent and wishing I could bottle it.

"I'm going to miss you," I say, my words muffled but still intelligible.

"Even though you'll see me almost every week?"

I nod against him, squeezing tighter. "Hey," I say, tilting my head to look up at him. "Leave me something that smells like you?"

He looks thoughtful for a moment before unclasping his cloak and shrugging out of his overcoat and tunic to peel off the thin black shirt he wears beneath it all.

"Hecate will be interested to hear you demanded the very shirt off my back before you'd let me go," he jokes, handing it over. "You'd better watch out."

~*~

For a little while after my husband leaves, I feel strangely hollow. I sit on the velvet chaise lounge in front of the main window and just stare out of it, petting Pompom as she snuggles into my lap.

Though it's got nothing on my new palace home, the room is so much more than I expected. High-ceilinged, with a narrow loft at the outward-facing end that's lined with bookshelves and opens onto a balcony. I also have a full bathroom to myself, and even a miniature kitchen and bar. The bed is four-posted, circled in heavy curtains of old, bluish-black brocade. Something to block out the perpetual neon glow of Styx and her namesake city.

There's an old-fashioned feel to the space that's quickly growing on me. Some of the furniture is even made of actual wood.

Syn busies himself with unpacking my things even though I told him I'd get around to it myself at some point. Overkill sits on a nearby chair, looking hilariously oversized and staring blankly at a wall.

"Um," I hedge, eyeing the new Synthe. "Is he alright, do you think?"

"Oh, he's fine," calls Syn. "He's just catching up on some reading. Or maybe some viewing. Not sure what he's on, right now."

"Oh?"

"Yes," says Syn, finishing up in the closet and trotting out to where he can see both of us. "He's got one of those basic starter personalities for now. But it's adaptive and develops over time, so I've given him a kick-start by introducing him to some of my favorite material—since I'll be spending so much time around him—and all of yours."