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)
Not that I’m doing a bang-up job of saving anyone right now. Persephone has unilaterally told me no, and after the events of the day, there’s no way Hades is going to listen to a single argument I make.
But even knowing how hopeless this entire situation is, I can’t quite turn away from Perseus. I carefully cover his hand with mine, keeping it pressed against my chest. “It’s late. I’m not going anywhere.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He studies my expression. I have no idea what he sees there. “Did I tell you Hermes came to talk to me?”
I blink. “What?”
“She pulled her customary move of appearing without notice and disappearing just as quickly, but she stuck around long enough to issue some dire warnings.”
My skin prickles. Is Hermes talking to all of the Thirteen? And if she is, what does that mean? She’s been one of us long enough to know how unlikely it is to pressure any of the titles to step down. If they could be swayed by violence, they would have been so when the assassination clause became public knowledge and attempts on our lives became regular. Sure, Aphrodite and Hephaestus stepped down, but they were immediately replaced. The title still remains. What is Hermes prepared to do that could actually change that truth? “What dire warnings?”
He shifts to prop his head on his hand, his other hand still pressing lightly to my chest. “She said the Thirteen as a government structure is no longer working. As always, she seems to forget she’s part of the Thirteen when it suits her.”
My heart lodges in my throat. I know better than to hope, especially with this man, but I can’t seem to help myself. I blame the hormones. But if Perseus were on my side…that could change things. That could change everything. “She’s not exactly wrong,” I say slowly.
“I know.” Perseus closes his eyes and exhales heavily. “You don’t think I know that? I saw every single thing my father did to hurt other people and how he used this title to do it. He’s not the only one, either. I know, Callisto.”
I almost—almost—reach out to cup his square jaw. Only sheer habit keeps my hand still. I don’t comfort my husband, at least outside of sex, apparently. The thought should be ludicrous, but there’s an ache blooming in my chest. I don’t know how to combat my softening toward him. He’s just as lost as the rest of us. I hate that I’m only now realizing this, and I hate even more that it shifts something inside me.
I don’t want to kill my husband. But my new weakness doesn’t stop there. I don’t want him to die at all, not at my hand and sure as fuck not at someone else’s.
I know what I should do. I should sit here silently and let him talk until he says something I can use against him. Even as little as he’s confessed is enough to rock the foundations of Olympus even further. I can see the MuseWatch headlines now:
Zeus Wants to Rescind Titles! Chaos Reigns!
The thought brings me no joy. And because it brings me no joy, I can’t quite stop myself from shifting my touch to his forearm and squeezing lightly. “Then why not step down? Why not find another way?”
He opens his eyes, looking more tired than I’ve ever seen him. “There are thirteen of us. Even if I step down, even if Poseidon did, the others would simply move into that power vacuum and use it for themselves. In the best-case scenario, dozens of people die as the legacy families fight for the available titles. In the worst case, there’s civil war.”
I’ve watched him for months, cataloging every little micro expression. He’s telling the truth—but not the full truth. “And what else?”
His flinch is almost imperceptible, but there nonetheless. “I started training to take the Zeus title from the moment I was born. It’s my entire identity. I may have inherited the title before I was ready, but the fact remains that it’s mine.” He starts to shift back and now it’s my turn to tighten my grip, to ask him without words not to run from me. He glances down to where I hold his arm and settles more comfortably against me. “Who am I if I’m not Zeus?”
I frown. I don’t like his question, and I like even less the tone in his voice. It’s threaded with something that almost sounds like despair. As if he can see the end of Olympus and he doesn’t think he’ll survive to witness it. As if he’ll keep fighting anyway because he doesn’t know how to do anything else.
I don’t mean to move. I don’t mean to say anything. I don’t mean to react at all. And yet my body takes the choice from me. I shove him onto his back and climb up to straddle his stomach. “Stop that.”