Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 83786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
I was relatively young when Circe became Hera for such a short time. I don’t know what it was about her that had Zeus marrying her instead of adding her to the list of his more traditional victims. Olympus has always been willing to overlook the sins of the Thirteen, and Zeus especially.
The only person who dared challenge him was Hercules, his other son, after the horrible events with Leda. There was no justice for Leda. Hercules was run out of town and hasn’t been seen since. I know he’s still alive because there’s a text thread in my husband’s phone from a little less than a year ago. Zeus asked Hercules to come back now that their father is dead. Hercules asked if Zeus—Perseus, then—intended to take the title. When he affirmed that he did, none of the rest of his texts gained a reply.
I don’t know what my face is doing, but apparently it’s response enough for Circe. She drags her fingers through her short hair, ruffling it attractively. “The Thirteen are a holdover from a different time. We need to move into the future—a better future. Olympus should be ruled by a government that actually represents the people, under the guidance of, well, me.”
“Strange how you don’t need to be elected in this utopia you paint,” I murmur.
Her smile disappears. “Did I say that?”
I brush that away. I’m not interested in arguing semantics with her. We’ve already been in here too long. It’s only a matter of time before Nephele comes to ensure I’m okay. “You obviously want something from me. Tell me what it is.”
“Direct. I like that.” She turns to face me and props her hip on the sink. “Originally, I had intended to wipe Olympus clean of all evidence of the Thirteen and their bloodlines, but as information has come to light, it seems best to change course.”
I motion for her to get to the point. “And?”
“I’m prepared to spare your family—as long as they are willing to renounce all claims to their respective titles and leave the city.”
Renounce their claims. I burst out laughing. I can’t help it. “Might as well wish for pigs to fly. It’s about as likely to happen.” My mother worked her entire life to become Demeter and she has no intention of giving up that power until her soul is yanked right out of her chest. Persephone carries the heir to the Hades title the same way I carry the heir to the Zeus title. Worse, she loves her husband with a ferocity I’ve rarely seen from her. She won’t abandon him. And Hades would never abandon his people.
“Then they’ll die.” Circe says it simply, as if it’s fact and not an obvious threat. “I respect you and what you have done to survive and protect those you care about, but I won’t let you stand in my way.” Her eyes flick down to my stomach. “I’m not interested in killing children—unborn or otherwise—if I have any other choice. Take your family and leave Olympus. I won’t chase you down, but if you ever return, your lives are forfeit.”
Terminating my pregnancy was the first thought I had when I saw that plus sign on the test. The idea of perpetuating the monstrosity of Zeus nearly had me making the appointment. But this eventual child isn’t just Zeus’s heir, Zeus’s child. They aren’t even just a step toward securing power and protection for the people I love. They’re mine. “I don’t like it when people threaten my family, Circe. It doesn’t tend to end well for them.”
“Doesn’t it? Zeus is still alive, after all.” She smiles and turns away. “It’s in your hands, Hera. Convince your mother to leave Olympus. Hades as well, since I’m feeling generous. If they stay, they will die. I cannot stress the severity of this reality.”
The way she says it, it’s as if a force of nature is coming for Olympus, instead of the machinations of a single vengeful woman and her followers. I glare. “You’re outnumbered and outgunned, and yet you’re talking as if your victory is a sure thing.”
“It is.” She adjusts her jacket.
“You’ve made a miscalculation. All I have to do is scream and my team will come rushing in to eliminate any threat against me. You won’t be doing anything if you’re dead.”
“Cute.” She pulls out her phone and types something on it. “Check your texts.”
I almost bobble my phone getting it out of my pocket, and when I look at the screen, I wish I had dropped it. There’s a video through the lens of what looks like a sniper scope, peering into a window and showing a woman…
Ice freezes my veins. Not just any woman. Persephone is pacing around the room, holding a phone to her ear with one hand and pressing the other to her blatantly rounded stomach. She’s roughly fifteen weeks pregnant, but since she’s having twins, she’s showing as if farther along. “What the fuck?” I whisper.