Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
He’s in his office with his second-in-command, Orion, and his niece—and heir—Pallas. All three look up when I walk in the room, even pausing to knock on the doorframe because I can be polite when the situation calls for it.
Poseidon pushes slowly to his feet. It takes quite a long time. He’s a tall white man with moon-pale skin dotted with constellations of freckles and a shock of red hair and beard. He’s also got that sexy strong-fat body thing going on, if one is into folks of the masculine persuasion. I can be for the right person, but Poseidon has certainly never been that.
“It was a mistake for you to come here.” He rumbles out the statement, a flush of anger spreading over his face. “Orion, take her.”
“That’s not a good idea.” I step sideways, easily dodging Orion’s grasp. They’re fast, but they’re no soldier. They also look tired as shit, their light-brown skin waxy with exhaustion. “I’m not here to fight, and it would be a shame if I had to hurt one of your people because you’re too stubborn to listen to me.”
Orion grits their teeth and tries to grab me again. “Come quietly.”
“Not a single time in my life.” I waggle my eyebrows, but it feels half-hearted. Flirting outrageously is only fun when your ex isn’t storming the city and threatening all of your friends. Many of them might not consider me a friend any longer, but even if they hate me in the end, they don’t deserve to be hurt.
Poseidon taps his fingers against his big thigh, a sure sign he’s getting agitated. “I don’t have time for this.”
“You’re right. You don’t.” I duck under Orion’s reach and step behind where Pallas stands. She’s a beautiful woman who, thankfully, takes after her mother with her delicate features and long, straight black hair rather than her late father, Triton. “Circe is back in the city.”
“So everyone has been saying.” He starts around the desk. “Stay away from Pallas.”
“Poseidon, listen to me.” I drop the playful act and straighten. “Have you spoken with Zeus in the last day or two?”
“Briefly.” He hesitates, seeming to finally be willing to listen. At least a little. He narrows his eyes. “He said a lot of things—including the fact that you want to demolish the Thirteen and set up a new government in its place.”
I curse myself for showing my hand too early, but gods, it’s like herding cats trying to get the Thirteen to do anything, including save themselves. I knew Zeus wouldn’t listen when I attempted to talk sense into him before, but I had to try. Of course he would start listening now, when it’s almost too late.
“The Thirteen are going to fall, Poseidon. It’s inevitable at this point. Circe has the people behind her, and if you’ve done your best to be a good leader, the majority of them—of us—haven’t. The people are angry. It’s a small miracle she hasn’t come for you yet.” I motion to Pallas. “You and your young cousins.”
Poseidon might hate most of the realities that come with being one of the Thirteen, but he’s no fool. He makes the connection instantly. “You mean anyone who could become Poseidon.”
“She won’t allow the legacy titles to continue.”
He curses. “Our family line includes dozens of people beyond Triton’s daughters. Surely she won’t…” He shakes his head sharply. “What am I saying? Of course she will. She has to. Any other option leaves open a door that she clearly wants shut.”
“You don’t have much time,” I say softly. “The only chance you and yours have is to seek sanctuary in the lower city. Or better yet, leave Olympus entirely. Today. Now.”
“And then what? We couldn’t manage to unify to defend the city from Circe’s blockade, which was a clear and present danger. Even if I go to the lower city, it will be more spiraling arguments that go nowhere. They won’t dissolve the Thirteen.” He meets my gaze. “If everything you’ve said is true, there’s no safety for anyone in my family, even if we leave the city. Circe won’t allow us to settle peacefully somewhere else. Will you? Even if I believe you don’t want anyone—else—dead, how long does that thread of nobility last, Hermes?”
That’s a question I’ve asked myself in the dark of the night. My hands aren’t free of blood, and I’m too jaded to believe the ends justify the means. It’s a lie people use to comfort themselves, as if that’s enough to keep the nightmares at bay. I know better.
Even so, that doesn’t mean I’m a fan of wholesale slaughter as long as there’s another option. The problem is that we’re running out of options. I square my shoulders. “If you don’t get your people behind the barrier in the lower city or out of Olympus entirely, you won’t be alive to find out the answer to that question.”