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)
I don’t wait for a response as I shove out into the hallway. It’s blessedly empty, which is a damned good thing because I have to press myself to the wall and wait for the shakes to pass. It’s been so long since I’ve fought someone, really fought them. Atalanta would have killed me if I’d dropped my guard even once. I hold my hand in front of my face, watching the tremor. I feel so much in this moment: pain and fear and sorrow for cutting down a magnificent warrior.
I glance at the door. Atalanta was beautiful in motion. Like Death herself. I can see why Hecate likes her…maybe loves her. In all my files on the Thirteen and the legacy families and their high-ranking employees, there wasn’t a single link between Hecate and Atalanta. They both attended Minos’s party and dozens of ones in Dodona Tower over the years, but so did plenty of other people. I had no reason to believe they might be lovers.
I’ve hardly been celibate since leaving Olympus. Hecate certainly hasn’t. And why would she? Being loyal to a dead woman is foolish in the extreme. Hecate may be idealistic to a suicidal degree, but she’s not a fool. She’s too damned full of life to cut off large swaths of herself.
If she and Atalanta aren’t merely lovers but more…
I don’t like the guilt that threatens to rise in my heaving lungs. I made no promises. Hecate can’t hold it against me if someone she loves dies at my hand. “Right,” I mutter. “Because that logic has worked so well in the past.” Maybe I didn’t nick a lung. The placement was high enough that Atalanta could easily live. If she did… I move quickly down the hall and curse when I don’t see anyone. This place was filled to the brim with people only an hour ago, and now it might as well be deserted.
It takes five long minutes to find a pair of soldiers patrolling. Amytis is a new recruit, a woman with light-brown skin and long, straight brown hair who wanted to escape her controlling family on Aeaea. Noe fell in with me the first month after I arrived on the island, a street kid with the kind of ambition that would have seen her dead if I hadn’t taken her under my wing. She’s got pale skin and black curls that she keeps short to leave her sharp features in stark relief.
It’s Noe who notices the blood on my clothes first. Her brown eyes go wide. “What happened? Do you need medical attention?”
“I’m fine.” The aches are starting to set in. I need to bandage up my cuts before I bleed all over this damned campus. “There’s a woman in Classroom 7B. It’s down the hall, take two rights and a left.” I hesitate, but finally say, “If she’s still alive, give her medical attention immediately and ensure she’s secured.”
They rush off to obey my orders, which should be the time I seek out an update from Antigone. I still need sleep, but my adrenaline is soaring too high for it to be a possibility now. Starting this coup with the execution of a nearly universally hated person is all well and good, but the mob craves the blood of those it designates as its prey. If I don’t feed it, I run the risk of becoming prey myself. We need to buy time for the lower city team to find the machinery to bring down the remaining barrier.
“Circe.”
I spin on my heel to find Amytis and Noe standing there. I frown. “What are you doing? Go see to Atalanta.”
They exchange a glance. Once again, Noe takes the lead. “We went to the classroom. There was a lot of blood. But, Circe…” I know what she’s going to say even as her lips form the words. “It was empty.”
That sneaky little assassin. I would admire her if I didn’t want to hunt her down and wring her neck. No, that’s a lie. I do admire her despite the wrench she just threw into my plans. She played up her injury so I’d leave. It was a risky move, but clearly she wanted…
I suck in a breath. “Hecate.”
12
Hermes
Circe outplayed me. Again. I’ve been running circles around the Thirteen and the legacy families for so long that I’ve lost my edge. It’s something I never would have thought possible, but here I am…trying to move my feet.
I glare at my boots. “Come on, feet.” At least I have access to my mouth and tongue again. The rest of my body is coming online much more slowly. If I have even a chance at escaping, I need to be able to move. And, you know, maybe not fall face-first into Circe’s mouth the first chance I get.