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)
He strokes my face again and leans forward to press a kiss to my forehead. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t. Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Act like I’m someone to be pitied. I made my choices, and they’re going to save this fucking city. I don’t need this weird song and dance of comfort.” When he leans back, I expect him to be shut down. Or be angry. Or be anything but still brimming with that deep understanding. “Stop it,” I whisper. “Stop being nice to me.”
“I don’t know how to be anything else.”
That’s what I’m afraid of.
When the threat Circe represents ends, so does Olympus’s need for me—and by extension, Poseidon’s need to keep me captive. If I even am captive anymore. I don’t think I can exactly waltz out of here and go wherever I want, but I’m hardly being kept under lock and key.
I know better than to hope. Allowing hope means setting myself up for devastation. I sit back and close my eyes. “I promised my sister I’d meet her in Brazil. I try really hard not to lie to her because I lie to everyone else. Something—someone—has to be sacred.”
He shifts, but he doesn’t touch me again. Anyone else would start driving again to allow this uncomfortable conversation to fade away. He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t; he’s Poseidon, and Poseidon has never done anything that I expect him to.
Finally, he says, “Why Brazil?”
“It’s on Ariadne’s list of places she wants to visit, experiences she wants to have.” It’s like the strength goes out of my body when I talk about my sister. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’ve never talked about her to anyone. My past lovers were essentially marks—the goal to get information, rather than give it. If I made small talk or told them things, those topics were easy and safe and didn’t matter. They couldn’t be used to hurt me. Not like the sister I love.
Poseidon doesn’t say anything for so long, I finally give in to curiosity and open my eyes to find him watching me the same way I imagine someone would watch a feral animal they were trying to coax close enough to aid.
He catches me looking at him and smiles a little bashfully, color splashing his cheeks. “I’d like to hear about her if you’re willing to tell me.”
I try to analyze the request from different angles, to see how it could hurt me—could hurt her—but more than anything, I do want to talk about her. With him, specifically.
I wrap my arms around myself and huddle into the jacket he gave me without hesitation when he realized I was cold. It wasn’t a move with the intention of getting something in return. He saw my need and he met it with no expectations.
This offer to talk about Ari is the same.
I take a deep breath. “My sister is the one with dreams. Ever since we were kids, she had her eyes on the horizon, on all the places the world has to offer. All she ever wanted to do was travel and inhale every experience. She’s always been fearless like that. It didn’t matter that it was unlikely to ever happen, that our father intended to marry her off to the first strategic match he could find. She hoped.” I chuckle hoarsely. “Now look at her, sailing off with her pet monster to do exactly what she always wanted.” She’ll accomplish it, too. I have no doubts about that. She’s already managed the impossibility of freedom, so what are the little details like money and papers?
“Brazil?” Poseidon prompts gently.
“Carnaval.” My heart aches like it’s rotting in my chest. Because this is just another promise I’m going to fail to keep. “It happens in February every year, a massive party and explosion of joy and color and music. Right up Ari’s alley. But it’s one of the places on her list that has a specific set of dates. Easier to find each other, I guess.” Though that’s not the full truth. If I escaped Olympus, I have my sister’s phone number. She and the Minotaur have no reason to think anyone would bother tracking it, so she’ll keep it in the hope that one day it’ll ring and be me on the other end.
I hate that I won’t get to experience freedom with her, that I won’t be at her side as she visits all the places on the endless itineraries she created over the years. Sometimes when we were young, we would play pretend about the adventures we’d have in Egypt or Korea or New Zealand—endless places to visit and things to experience.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
I turn to him in surprise. “What are you talking about?”
“If we’d been a little later, you would have been on that ship with her.” He shakes his head slowly. “I’m not in the habit of making promises when I have no guarantee I can keep them, but I’ll do everything in my power to ensure you see the other side of this—and have the resources to keep your promise to your sister.”