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)
What’s she doing here?
I pad to the top of the stairs and stop just before stepping into view. Truly, if they wanted to have a private conversation, doing it in the foyer is just ill-advised. Anyone could listen—and I fully intend to. Every piece of information is a weapon I must mold to my own use, because becoming invaluable is the only way to survive.
And, dammit, I will survive. If not for myself, then for my sister. That’ll have to be motivation enough to put one foot in front of the other against these seemingly insurmountable odds. I’ve faced impossible odds before, and even though I’ve faltered before accomplishing true victory, I’m still here and so many of my tormentors aren’t. What is that if not success?
I carefully lean my shoulder against the wall and concentrate on keeping my breathing even so there’s nothing to give my presence away. Only once I have myself under control do I slide forward a little until I can see them both at the bottom of the stairs.
Poseidon is visibly agitated, his hands shifting at his sides and his entire body tense. “Hera, you can’t.”
She looks so tiny next to him, for all that she’s not a particularly short woman. I’ve only met one of the Dimitriou women during my time in Olympus—the youngest, Eurydice—and while I can see some similarities in their beauty, Eurydice practically radiates kindness and Hera is cold enough to freeze the unwary.
Her voice demonstrates none of the emotion brimming in Poseidon’s. “On the contrary, I must. We have no naval forces. We have no defense. The only way forward is compromise with a healthy dose of trickery.”
He actually takes a step back, as if her words are a physical force battering against his big body. “You sound like Hermes—and we both know she’s a traitor.”
“Do we know that? Because the more we find out about Circe and her reasons for hating this city, the more I wonder.” Hera looks particularly elegant this afternoon. In her interviews, she tends to favor menswear or sharply designed dresses that fit her lean form. What she’s wearing now is almost a gown. A dress fit for a dark queen, the black fabric hugging her chest while leaving her shoulders bare and then billowing out around her stomach and hips to fall in smooth lines to the ground. All she needs is a crown to complete the picture.
I wonder about Hermes too, but she’s not my problem and neither are her motivations. Most importantly, she’s not here to be an asset to help me accomplish my aims.
“Are you listening to yourself?” Poseidon rumbles. “The only reason I agreed to work with you is for the betterment of Olympus. I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“It is what I want.” Her voice is so cold, I can’t tell if she’s speaking truthfully or crafting an artful lie. “We have an opportunity to stop this entire invasion before it gets properly started. To save lives. That is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
She’s boxed him in rather neatly, if I do say so myself. It’s increasingly clear that Poseidon’s greatest weakness is the perception of his honor. If it’s not an act…
I have no idea how he’s survived as long as he has when he wears his emotions on his face and in his hands. Or, more accurately, in his fingers tapping nervously against his thigh. It’s obviously an expression of discomfort; he might as well have posted a neon sign above his head saying as much. If he wasn’t in a legacy position, he never would’ve become one of the Thirteen.
He probably would’ve been happier that way.
“Fine,” he says flatly. “What do you have in mind?”
Her gaze flicks over his shoulder, catching mine. Caught. Fuck. Her smile widens, a pleased cat inviting a mouse to come play between its paws. “We have an eavesdropper—and just who I wanted to see. Come down, Icarus. You may as well have a voice in this conversation since I intend to utilize your resources.”
Poseidon whips around, and I’m not expecting the betrayal that flickers over his face…or the strange guilt that flickers in my chest in response. I have nothing to feel guilty for. He’s my enemy, just like everyone else in this godsforsaken city. My goal of surviving Olympus means the only rule I hold to is doing whatever it takes to come out on top and escape with my life. I don’t have another choice.
I wish I could say that I float gracefully down the staircase, but the truth is that I white-knuckle the banister and take each step slowly to avoid my knees buckling. Every breath is agony, and my body is not on board with all this moving around. When I finally come to a stop on the ground floor, it’s everything I can do not to pant for breath and shake. Only a lifetime of training keeps my body steady and my haggard exhales trapped in my lungs. I even manage a smile. “Hera herself. I’m honored.”