Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
I’m watching him closely, looking for that character break. Usually, I can talk quickly enough for a time to get anyone angry at me—certainly angry enough to stop this ridiculous act.
But he just looks more confused. “Did Polyphemus hit your head, too? What are you talking about?”
“Stop pretending!” I flinch as soon as the yell leaves my lips. This isn’t strategic. I’m being stubborn for no damn reason at all. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
“Icarus.”
“I understand that you want information from me.” And I do. He’s given me the path to cracking him wide open. Because he’s an honorable man, and people pretending to be honorable are even easier to manipulate than those who are actually honorable. They’re predictable.
“What I want is to protect the city from Circe. More importantly, the people in the city.”
Not himself. Not the Thirteen. The helpless people who rely on those stronger for safety. Surely he’s not actually an honorable man. That would be too good to be true…
I shake my head roughly. “It doesn’t matter what you want. It’s all the same to me.”
I’ll give him everything he asks for. I can’t stop Circe—I don’t think anyone can at this point—but part of Circe’s power is her support base, and I’ve slept with more than a few of them over the years. I’m good at pillow talk, good at delving into the little nooks and crannies that hide their secrets. They love to brag, love to tell me things no one else knows. Things I can exploit. And what they don’t brag about, I find on my own. I’m not as good with computers as Ariadne, but I’m no slouch, either.
I already intended to use the information I’ve painstakingly compiled to blackmail them into giving me enough money to live a lavish lifestyle until I die of old age. That money would’ve gone a long way toward protecting Ariadne and me, into getting us far away from Olympus and Aeaea. An entire world away, even.
I’ll still need money if I survive this, but if I’m still in Olympus when Circe takes the city, I’m going to need every bit of blackmail to ensure I don’t end up dead along with the rest of her enemies. Unfortunately, I don’t have blackmail on Circe—her preferences lean more in the sapphic direction—but depending on who she brought as generals, I should have a decent chance of living through this.
I just need to string Poseidon along until that happens. If he’s going to insist on pretending to be an honorable man, then I’m going to use it against him to ensure I stay alive.
I settle back down into the comfort of the bed. Now, when I’m finally properly alone, I allow myself to picture my sister, to witness the desperation on her face as she forced a promise from me: Carnaval next year. We’re supposed to meet there. I don’t know if I believe that it’s even possible…but Poseidon has given me an avenue forward. And I mean to take it.
6
Poseidon
Icarus’s words ring in my ears as I leave his room and head downstairs. Most of my people have homes in the area surrounding the docks, but I keep the rooms in the guesthouse stocked with all the necessities for those who need it. No questions asked. Polyphemus has been using one of those rooms ever since his sister, who he lived with, died in the attack on Triton.
I check there first, but it’s empty. It only takes a few minutes to find him sitting on a chair in the small sitting room tucked just off the entrance, head bowed. Even as I tell myself to be calm, the words burst from me in a furious rush. “What the fuck do you think you were doing?”
Polyphemus digs his hands into his pockets and hunches his shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
“Do you understand how dire our situation currently is? I sympathize with your loss. We are all mourning those who died that day. But if we don’t do something—and quickly—more people will die. Do you understand, Polyphemus? I have to be able to trust you, and if I can’t, then I have to send you away.”
He jerks as if I’ve reached out and struck him. “Don’t send me away, Poseidon. Please. I’m sorry I fucked up, but I won’t do it again.”
I want to believe that. I need to be able to trust my people, and before I came home to find Polyphemus torturing a bound Icarus, I would’ve said I could trust them beyond a shadow of a doubt. But war changes people. And there’s no more denying that we’re in the midst of a war, a majority vote for the Thirteen or no. “Did it make you feel better to hurt him?”
He opens his mouth, pauses, and wilts. “No. It didn’t bring her back. I thought punishing someone who was at least partially responsible would help, but all it did was highlight the fact that I’ll never see her again.”