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“Is that why you hate Ares?” I’m still trying to stall, but the question is an honest one. I truly can’t understand how a mother can feel the way Hera feels about her own son.

“Ares is weak.” Not even a shred of emotion appears in her face. She leans back to appraise me with the cool disconnect of someone I imagine lacks any form of conscience. “Did you know that Hercules is not of my womb?”

I frown, brows pitching down. It’s probably silly, but I can’t unsee the children’s movieHerculesplaying in my mind. As a child, the movie had fascinated me endlessly, even as I’d always sensed deep inside that the picture painted of the Gods wasoff.

Hera laughs, as though reading my mind. “You’re thinking of the human movie for children.”

My eyes snap wide, and her laugh grows as I whisper, “Can you read minds?”

“No.”

I don’t know if I believe her.

Hera shifts forward to swipe her glass of wine from the table before settling back beside me. Even settled, though, she never relinquishes the threatening air of a venomous snake moments from striking.

“Human records of the Gods have been deeply manipulated in Zeus’ favor,” she admits carelessly. “Hercules is yet another of Zeus’ bastards. I rejected him, too, you know. Before he proved his power.”

“How did he do that?” The words nearly get stuck in my throat.

“I decreed he was to overcome twelve obstacles. Trials.” She looses a low, husky laugh. “To be frank, they should have killed him. In fact, it was my intent to kill him. To rid the world of the proof of my husband’s lack of control over the cock that swings in his pants.” She waves her fingers, and the servant girl appears again. “We’re ready to be served.”

The girl dips her chin and scurries away.

Hera locks her attention back on me. “Hercules bested all twelve trials, and I saw him for the power he was. I accepted him then as my son, as I wish to accept you as my daughter now.”

The servant girl appears with two covered trays, placing both on the table. The scent of spiced chicken and steamed veggies turns my stomach, given the conversation.

“And if I love Hades?”

Hera scoffs. “If a man is what you want, I am more than happy to offer you my son.”

I frown. “Hercules?”

She nods demurely. “He’s willing to court you. He wishes it, in fact.”

I fail to hide my scowl in time, and her brow arcs. Her blue eyes narrow as she tips her head to the side. Then she asks, “I have another son who interests you, don’t I?”

“No,” I say, but a soul deep in my womb stirs. A warmth swells inside me that I can’t hide, and Hera inhales deeply yet again.

And that is when I know without doubt that she can sense my daughters’ power. She can feel them, even if she can’t discern them from me.

What would she do to us if she learned that they weren’t me, and we were three?

“You lie,” she accuses softly. “You are attracted to Ares.” The warmth grows and shame heats my cheeks as I claim the affection my unborn daughter’s soul holds for Ares, God of War, as my own.

I force myself to admit, “Yes.”

“Well, well, well.” She clucks her tongue. “You have a taste for dark Gods. I prefer the golden Gods, myself. At least we won’t be competing.”

Goodness, I can’t believe this is happening.

Hera forks a chunk of chicken, sliding it between white teeth. “If Ares is the one you desire, then he is the one you shall have.” She chews, studying me. “Provided you decide to stay, pledging your soul and power to Olympus, that is.”

I want to tell her to screw herself. Instead, I force myself to nod. “I’ll consider it.”

Hera smiles like a lioness over a bloody kill.

Chapter