Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
If I were alone, I would slump back in my seat. I’m not. Hades is here and he’s watching me just as closely as he watched Athena.
“She’s not wrong,” I say.
“She’s not,” he agrees. “But some scars can’t be smoothed over, no matter how dire the circumstances.”
My wife huffs out a breath. “Which, for the hundredth time, is why we’re in this circumstance to begin with.” Really, it’s a miracle she managed to hold her tongue as long as she did. She doesn’t yank her hand from mine, though; she just leans forward and pins her brother-in-law with a harsh look. “You have two choices, Hades. We all have two choices. We leave or we fight. The time for pussyfooting around and politicking has passed. Circe literally executed Peitho, and the city cheered while she did it. No matter how beloved you are in the lower city, the rest of Olympus will celebrate if she puts a bullet between your eyes.”
“I know.” He tugs Persephone into his lap and rests his chin on her shoulder and his hands on her round belly. It’s a show of trust that he lets down his mask even that much. “But I’m only human. I’ve spent my entire life protecting the lower city. I owe it to the people here to do more than simply hand them over to Circe to save myself.”
Callisto shoots to her feet, nearly yanking my arm out of its socket in the process. “What about your wife? Your children?”
“Callisto.” Persephone’s tone is the deceptive calm before a hurricane. “I am sitting right here and more than capable of advocating for myself.”
“Then do it.” She finally realizes she’s holding my hand and actually hesitates before she slips free so she can pace the full length of the room. “This is what I wanted to avoid, and no one—sure as shit not anyone in this room—believed in the danger enough to listen to me. Now Eros is dead.” She misses a step and goes still. “Eros is dead,” she whispers.
I’m already on my feet as she turns to me, my arms open to hold her against my chest as she shakes. “I’m sorry.”
“I liked him,” she whispers. “He was good for Psyche. She loved him.” She buries her face in my chest. “Oh gods, Psyche.”
“Mother will take care of her.” I can’t tell if Persephone believes her own words. Her expression is troubled, but she holds it together better than Callisto. Probably because she wasn’t running for her life a few days ago.
My wife hugs me tighter but turns her face to her sister. “Yeah, she’s doing a stellar job of it.” Callisto sniffs, gives me one last squeeze, and steps away. It takes every bit of control I have to release her when all I want to do is hold her close and battle the awful feeling in my chest.
This isn’t over. It’s only beginning.
7
Hermes
Circe’s people haul me into a private room. I barely have the capacity to register the path we travel. My bones feel loose and fluid, my muscles lacking the strength required to move them. I…didn’t think she’d do it.
Circe has always had the capacity for violence. Executing Peitho, who had a direct hand in the abuse she suffered? That makes sense. But Eros? He was another person who the system of Olympus failed: abused and manipulated by his bitch of a mother, groomed to be the bloody knife against her enemies. No, he wasn’t innocent—not by a long shot—but he was finally moving past all the bullshit and into a truly disgustingly perfect happily ever after.
“I can’t believe you killed him,” I whisper. “You didn’t even hesitate.”
Circe nods to the woman at my back. “Release her.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Antigone,” she snaps. She’s lost some of the smoothness she seems to cultivate these days, her tone sharp and filled with the promise of rage. “I am more than capable of handling this by myself. Leave us. See to the cleanup with Nerissa. We’ll speak about next steps tonight.”
A pause as if this Antigone will defy her further, but then the harsh grip on my arms is gone, leaving me to slump to the floor. I’ll get up in a minute, will become the person—the weapon—I need to be in order to keep moving forward. In a minute…
Circe crouches before me. I hate that she looks even more perfect up close, her beauty only having been sharpened in the years since I saw her last. We were so fucking naive, filled with hope and fear and rage in the way only someone young enough to be sure they’re immortal can be.
She smooths back my braids. “Oh, Hecate.” It would be so much easier—maybe—if she spoke to me with the same hate she reserves for the rest of Olympus. But she doesn’t. When Circe talks to me, it’s with the same love and fondness she felt the last time we spoke, before both our worlds crumbled down around us. I can see the woman she was, mixed in with the woman she’s become. She’s not a stranger to me. This would be so much easier to navigate if she was.