Page 14 of Dark Restraint
“I like you.” Her smile is downright predatory. “I won’t stand in the way of you getting the blueprints for your…friend. In exchange for my silence, your father’s people won’t try to kill anyone—except Zeus.”
Zeus. Her husband.
“Why do you want him dead?”
“He’s more than capable of taking care of himself.” She shrugs a single shoulder. “But if he’s not? Well, then, he deserves his fate. He’s the most powerful person in the city, and his choices are bringing us to the brink of ruin.”
Wasn’t I just thinking the same thing earlier? Zeus shouldn’t shoulder the full blame, not when the rest of the Thirteen continue to indulge in backstabbing and selfish ambition, but he’s the only one who has a chance to unite them—and so far, he’s failed spectacularly. I wouldn’t necessarily condemn him to death over it. Circe will, though. I swallow hard. “But what about the succession? If he dies, someone else steps into the role of Zeus, and whatever your purpose, it will be chaos. He has no children—”
“Doesn’t he?” She leans back and presses a hand to her stomach. “You’re right, at least in part. If he died with no children, the title would pass to one of his siblings; Helen, in this case. She’d have to give up the title of Ares, and it would be an unmitigated mess. But in the event that one of the legacy titles dies and their spouse is pregnant?” Her smile widens. “Well, that spouse becomes regent.”
Which means Hera.
Her ambition leaves me breathless. I won’t pretend to be an expert in Olympus’s laws, but I’ve never heard of this one. She must have gone looking for it, which means she’s been thinking about murdering her husband for some time. It would be shocking under normal circumstances, but considering the threat crouched just beyond the city limits, it’s downright suicidal. “Zeus is the one defining leader in the city right now.” Or at least he’s trying to be.
“Only because our people are used to looking to Zeus above all others. Hades is a better leader. My mother has a better track record of taking care of her people. Even Poseidon rules his little shipyard kingdom with efficiency and care.” She shrugs. “Things are already changing. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to ensure they change to favor me and those I love.”
Ultimately, I have no loyalty to Zeus. I have no loyalty to anyone. I don’t know if Asterion will really kill me, but I know he’s capable of it. Maybe it’s no more than I deserve, but… The hopeless feeling inside me wells up until I can barely breathe past it. I could deny Hera, deny Asterion and likely end up dead within a few days.
And nothing will change.
My father’s people will still find a way to bring down the tower, likely with a massive loss of life. Hera will still play her games and achieve her goals of becoming a widow. The only difference will be that more people will die.
It’s entirely possible—probable, even—that I won’t survive the coming conflict, but I don’t think I can sit by and let people die if there’s a chance to help. I swallow hard. “Does Dionysus know what you’re up to?”
“He knows what he needs to.” Hera nudges a bag across the floor with her spike-heeled shoe. She must have brought it when she came to sit down. “I’m told this will have everything you need to accomplish your goals.”
I glance down into the bag, and my heart beats harder when I recognize the computer. Historically, I prefer to build my own, but this is a nice model and far more expensive than it has a right to be. It’ll do what I need it to do. “Are you setting me up?”
“If I was, it wouldn’t be very smart to tell you, would it?” She chuckles. “But no, I’m not setting you up. I have no need to. You walked right into the palm of my hand when you delivered yourself across the river. I understand why Hades didn’t keep you, but the lower city was the only chance at safety you had.”
She’s not saying anything I don’t already know. In my own way, I’m just like Icarus. I’ve never been the child my father wanted. Never pretty enough, thin enough, docile enough. Too smart, too willing to meddle where I’m not wanted. Teaching myself the ins and outs of computers was pure rebellion at first, but eventually it became something I loved for what it represented. Freedom. The internet served as a reminder that while my own world may be claustrophobic and confined, freedom exists for other people. Once upon a time, I believed I might be able to experience that freedom for myself. I know better now.
Marry Dionysus. Hope that Asterion doesn’t kill me. Survive the inevitable downfall of Olympus. Three tall orders that seem nearly impossible individually and incomprehensible when combined.
No, there will be no freedom for me. The best I can hope is to negotiate for a more appealing cage. “If you want me to play doting fiancée, I’m going to need the proper tools.” I’ve had a chance to go through the clothing in the suitcases left by Hermes, but what she considers appropriate and what I do are worlds apart. At least everything she provided was the right size, but dressing entirely in glitter pants and graphic T-shirts doesn’t exactly convey the right image. “Clothes, for one. Cosmetics. Some invitations to those little parties your people insist on throwing, even though war is on the horizon.”
“War is already here. It has been for a long time.” She pushes slowly to her feet. “Meet the deadline and you’ll have everything your heart desires. Materially, at least.”
This woman and Circe aren’t so different. Not just because Circe was once Hera before the last Zeus attempted to kill her, but because they’re both determined to make the world choke on their rage. And they’re both powerful enough to make it happen. I dread the moment they come face-to-face. At this point, it’s all but inevitable.
I didn’t quite tell the Olympians everything. They don’t need to know that Circe is beautiful and charming and fury personified. They don’t need to know that she scares me beyond all reason. They know that she’s coming; that’s enough.
I expect Hera to leave the same way Asterion did, but she motions for me to stand. When I raise my brows at her, her lips curve in a way that feels like a threat. “Olympus isn’t nearly as safe as it used to be. You and your father made sure of that. I’ll walk you home.”
Home. What a joke. Dionysus doesn’t seem to be a complete monster, but his penthouse will never be home to me. Despite everything, I find myself missing Aeaea. It’s just as corrupt as Olympus in its own way, but there were happy times there in my childhood.
I’m not naive enough to ignore the fact that those memories were with Icarus and not my father. How we used to play prince and princess of the castle, racing about in games of pretend as we explored the villa. The way old gardener Doris showed the patience of a goddess in teaching us how to garden. Icarus wandered off after only a few days, but I found peace with my fingers in the dark earth. In watching the seeds I planted grow into vegetables that nourished the body.
I doubt I’ll have much time to garden in my new life.
It’s only as we exit the coffee shop that I notice Hera’s personal guard. There isn’t a single man among their number, and they fall into ranks around us with military precision. I study them on our trip across the street. Their black uniforms could be mistaken for Athena’s or even Ares’s, except for the patch on their shoulder. A crown and two peacock feathers. Hera’s crest.
I’ll look into them when I have a little time, but I would wager a significant amount of money that these people came from Demeter’s ranks or perhaps from the countryside that surrounds Olympus. Hera seems too smart to surround herself with people who are loyal to anyone but her.
I wonder what Zeus has to say about that. He’s not a fool; surely he realizes that his wife hates him. If he doesn’t… Well, I have enough to worry about.
We stop outside the doors to Dionysus’s building. The wind picks up Hera’s long dark hair, giving her an otherworldly appearance. She studies me. “You’ve come this far, Ariadne. Don’t falter now.”