Page 26 of Dark Restraint
No. Apparently not this time. If this is legit and she really means to kill Zeus, that will do more to further Circe’s goals than anything else we’ve done so far. The city’s already destabilized. Bringing down Dodona Tower is as much about symbolism as anything else. To then kill Zeus in the process? Minos will be beside himself with joy.
“Why tell me any of this? You could’ve just sat back and let me do what I intend to do.”
“Because I don’t want anyone dead except my husband. I want your word.” She flicks her hair over one shoulder and stands. “Do this for me, and Ariadne is yours. As long as she’ll have you.”
I watch her walk to the front door. She glances over her shoulder, her expression once again blank, the way it is in every photo of her. “In fact, if you want a little taste…Eros is quite distracted right now with my sister. It would be nothing to slip in and have a little chat.”
I don’t like her offering up Ariadne as a prize. It’s exactly what Minos did to win my loyalty as a teenager. But I’m not a teenager anymore. Despite myself, I can’t stop Icarus’s words from ringing in my ears. He’s wrong. He has to be. I will not be the death of the very thing that’s kept me going all these years. There’s only one way to be sure, though. One way to guarantee that he’s wrong and I’m right. That she’s mine and I’m hers.
Ariadne has to choose me.
And the only way for that to happen is for me to ensure she remains safe to make that decision. “You have yourself a deal, Hera.”
“I thought I might.” She holds open the door for me. “You have fifteen minutes. Make them count.”
14
Ariadne
I didn’t believe Hera when she told me there was a store with fashionable clothing in my size. Online shopping has been my best friend since I hit puberty, because the plus-size clothing offered on the rack tends to be hideous, without much selection. But then, Hera’s younger sister Psyche would know. She’s about my size and an influencer with amazing style. The boutique they take me to is so new that I swear I can smell the fresh paint on the walls. And it’s a wonderland in variety.
Or at least it is until I see the first price tag. I reluctantly hang the dress back on the rack. “This is too much.” Not something I ever really had to worry about before, but my father has frozen my accounts, and not even I am good enough to hack into a bank’s electronic system to unfreeze it.
“It’s courtesy of my sister.” Psyche grabs the hanger and presses it back into my hands. “I promise it’s okay. Zeus’s bank accounts are practically limitless, and he gives her a ridiculous monthly budget to use for whatever she wants. She won’t even notice what you’ll spend today. But it’ll make you feel better, and that’s what’s important.”
I stare at her, waiting for the barb to follow the sweet words. Except it never comes. She stands there, this beautiful woman completely at home in her body, and smiles at me in perfect understanding.
It feels a little silly to say that clothing is important, but what is clothing but another kind of armor? I will never have the waifish body that my father is sure would secure me a powerful husband, but I can dress in a way that makes me feel good. That makes me feel…powerful. It might be an illusion, but it’s one I’ll accept gladly.
“I took the liberty of placing a few options in the dressing room. I think the owner may have a new shipment in the back, so I’m going to go snoop while you try the first set on.” She smiles without any hint of artifice. “I know things haven’t been easy, but don’t worry. We’ll take care of you.”
I don’t know if she’s a better liar than most or she has no idea about Hera’s plans. Ultimately, it’s not my business. I need new clothes, and Psyche is making the experience of acquiring them as painless as possible. In another life, maybe we could’ve been friends. I’m not naive enough to think that’s an option in this one.
So I simply smile in response. “Sounds good. Thank you.”
The dressing room is larger than I anticipated, another welcome surprise. There’s plenty of space for the massive selection of clothes that Psyche somehow managed to slip in here when I wasn’t paying attention. A large floor-to-ceiling mirror is positioned perpendicular to the door, across from the bench seat. Everything, of course, is the height of luxury, from the thick carpet beneath my feet to the gilded edges of the mirror itself.
I strip quickly and pull on the first dress, one of Psyche’s selections. I’m only mildly surprised to find that it fits perfectly. I turn to look at myself in the mirror and…it’s not necessarily something I would’ve chosen for myself, the print a little too eccentric and the cut fitted enough to give my father a stroke. But I love it. I skim my hands down my hips and twist to look at it from the side.
Clothes really are powerful. In this moment, I almost feel something like hope. That I have a future. That someday I might live a life where I can choose the things that make me happy without worrying about pleasing other people.
It’s a lie.
I peel off the dress and place it back on the hanger. I don’t care if it’s false; I want the promise this dress gives me. I try on a pair of jeans that also goes into the keeper pile, and then a flirty short skirt that’s entirely impractical for the coming winter. Who knows if I’ll live long enough for the season’s return. It’s a depressing thought.
No. I’m not going to be defeatist. I’ll pick out a cute top to wear with this skirt, and I will wear it this spring when the flowers begin to bloom.
The door opens behind me and I spin, skirt swirling around my thighs, to see the last person I expect. Asterion. “What are—”
He’s on me in a moment, his big hand plastering over my mouth and cutting off my words. His other arm goes around my waist and then I’m pressed to his chest and, oh gods, but it’s happening again. Touching him makes something short out in my brain. My survival instincts demand that I scream, fight, do anything to draw the attention of the other people in the store. But those demands are quiet whispers in the face of the inferno flaring inside me.
He looks down at me with a forbidding expression on his scarred face. Like I’m the one who’s done something wrong…who’s done him wrong. His fingers tighten on my face ever so slightly. “Don’t scream.”
I nod slowly. Just as slowly, he lifts his hand from my mouth, shifting down to grip my jaw. Not tight enough to prevent me from speaking. I lick my lips, achingly aware of how he follows the movement, of how he always follows the movement. “What are you doing here?”
“You can’t trust Hera.”
I blink. “Might as well tell me that the sky is blue. I know. Everyone in this godsforsaken city has their own agenda, Asterion. Even you. I can’t trust anyone.”