Page 62

I’m no innocent to the ancient ways. I spent every moment I could studying the ancient history of the Greek Gods, enthralled by the mythology. I am wholly aware that in that time so long ago, Gods and men took women without thought or concern forher wants and desires. Rape is a part of history, but it is not a history I wish to look upon.

Turning back to Ares, I ask, “Can this be removed?”

I don’t miss the slight cocking of his head. “No. Hera placed this piece here when it appeared.”

I frown. “Appeared?”

“Yes. Millennia ago, now.” Golden eyes speared with red land on the statue. “Born of the same power that birthed the realms.”

“You mean Chaos’ power?”

His eyes sharpen, for a moment the red wholly claiming the gold. “You know of Chaos?”

“Everyone knows of Chaos.”

“She is a lost Goddess. No one speaks of her, nor have they spoken of her in so long even the history books fail to teach of her.” He steps into the room, moving slowly. Dangerously.

I flinch when the door falls closed with a loud clang.

Leuce tenses, as though ready to sacrifice her life for my own in the event Ares, God of War, decides to ruin me.

Hydra looses a low growl of warning, but Ares pays none of it any mind as he demands quietly, lethally, “You are human, raised human. Tell me again,little human, how do you know of Chaos?”

An icy shiver slithers over my flesh, but I lift my chin. “I might be human, but I’m not stupid. I don’t know you, Ares, and I don’t trust you.” Something twists violently in my belly as he stops close, so close I can scent him. Under the hot metallic scent of bloody earth is something else. Something I know is owed to the soul I carry inside me. The soul who belongs here in Olympus, perhaps with him.

The musk of flames licking at a darkening sky, of hot stone and sweet citrus. Of bergamot.

It’s entirely too pleasant, and that isalarming.

I clear my throat and take a quick step back. Ares cocks his head in response, sharp eyes narrowing as his brow furrows.

A low noise sounds in the back of his throat, and he rises to his full height. It’s rather intimidating, but I don’t allow myself to squirm even as the soul inside me titters in recognition I can’t begin to explain.

“The statue remains. Everything Hera abhors is hidden away in this wing of the palace.” His eyes flick to the statue before sliding back to me, though now he wears a disgusted curl to his lips that gives me pause. “If you don’t like it, throw a sheet over it.”

“I can always toss it over the balcony for you, my Persephone,”Hydra says.

I cough to swallow back my surprised laugh, my gaze cutting to my friend. Slowly, I give my head a quick shake.

I’d hoped for it to be imperceptible, but when I look back to Ares, I know for a fact he caught it.

His eyes are still dangerously narrowed on me as he slowly begins to move back toward the door. “Nothing and no one are as they seem here in Olympus. Watch your back.”

Hydra growls again and Leuce says, “I will guard her back.”

Ares’ eyes don’t leave me. I can’t ignore the scent of bloody earth with its now fainter undertones of bergamot. Ares opens the door but pauses mid-escape. “My rooms are across the hall from yours.”

He doesn’t wait for my response before he leaves, letting the door fall shut behind him.

In my mind, I hear his words on repeat,“Everything Hera abhors is hidden away in this wing of the castle.”

I don’t know why, but that twisting in my belly cinches painfully tight. Grief is the gasoline that splashes the flickering match inside my heart, erupting centuries of sorrow that does not belong to me.

My gaze shifts from the closed door to Leuce, whose dark skin shines with discomfort. I whisper, “Is Hera not his mother?”

“She is.”

I touch my fingertips to that burning place inside my chest. “But he said—but his rooms are?—”