Page 22

22

Poseidon

I wake up the moment Icarus leaves the bed, lie there silently as he digs through my clothing to get my phone, and stare at the ceiling for the entirety of the time he’s in the bathroom. Long enough to damn Olympus entirely. And yet I can’t make myself get out of bed.

Why the secrecy? Why wait until he’s sure I’m asleep to make this move? It’s hard to make my brain, still sluggish with sleep and remembered pleasure, come to any other conclusion. He’s doing something he doesn’t want me to know about. Betrayal coats my tongue, ruining the happiness that had been bubbling up inside me.

I don’t want to know that he just gave me one of the best sexual experiences I’ve ever had and barely waited for our bodies to cool before he stabbed me in the back.

Stopping him is what I should do, but what can he tell Circe—because who else would he call that he feels like he has to hide from me?—that she doesn’t already know? That we’re wholly unprepared for an attack? That we’re evacuating as many civilians as possible to the countryside? That there’s no chance the Thirteen will unite in time to vote for war? She’s been watching us long enough to have planned for all of it. More, she grew up in Olympus. She has an insider’s knowledge.

None of it matters. I’m making excuses because of the hurt kindling in my chest. I was never a child who played pretend, but apparently I’m an adult willing to close my eyes and block my ears as long as I keep one of the people who wants my city to burn in my bed. Pathetic. The word is dipped in poison and sounds so much like my late uncle that I flinch.

Icarus steps out of the bathroom and stops short. I can barely see him in the darkness of the room, but apparently he can see me clearly enough. “You’re awake.”

I guess we’re having this confrontation whether I want to or not. “Yeah, I’m awake.”

He moves to the nightstand and flips on the light. His hair is still tangled from my fingers, but I swear the circles beneath his eyes have gotten darker in the last few hours. “Listen, Poseidon, it’s not what you think. It’s—”

Three hard knocks on the door of the apartment cut him off. I search his expression, but there’s only surprise there. Whoever is at my door, I don’t think they’re here because Icarus called them.

Which means they might be here to harm him.

I don’t hesitate. I climb off the bed and shove him back into the bathroom. “Stay there.”

“But—”

I slam the door before he can argue further and yank on my pants. I don’t particularly like guns, so I don’t have any in this apartment. I’ve never felt the lack until this moment as I grab a baseball bat, feeling like the worst kind of fool.

The door has no window in it, so I crack it open, angling my body to hide the view of the rumpled bed behind me. I’m so ready for a fight, it takes me several long beats before I recognize the man standing on my doorstep.

I blink. “Zeus?”

“Are you going to keep standing here are all night, or are you going to let me in? I’ve already wasted too much time tracking you down.” Despite the late hour, he looks like he just stepped out of the office. His suit is perfectly tailored and doesn’t have a single wrinkle, and his blond hair is styled just like it always is.

Shock has me falling back more than anything else. I deal with Zeus when I have to, and I work very hard to ensure I don’t have to more than absolutely necessary. This one might be different from his father, but he’s still Zeus. I can’t trust him.

He steps into the apartment and closes the door softly behind him. Those cold eyes take in the place in a single sweep, and I have no doubt that he clocked every incriminating piece of evidence. The lube and condoms on the nightstand. The scent of sex in the air. The light under the bathroom door.

Zeus comments on none of it. He merely walks to my table and sinks into one of the two chairs, as regal as a fucking king. “We need to talk about Circe.”

I exhale in a huff. “It’s three in the morning. What could you possibly have to say about Circe that hasn’t been hashed and rehashed in the countless meetings we’ve held?” I shake my head. “No. This is ridiculous and an overstep, even for you. You shouldn’t be here. Get out.”

“You’re right. The meetings have accomplished nothing but wasting everyone’s time. Circe will be actively burning the city to the ground and the Thirteen still won’t vote to go to war.”

I open my mouth to tell him to get out when the details finally register. The differences. Zeus has always been a cold bastard, even when he was still called Perseus, but somehow he’s even colder right now. There’s absolutely no emotion in his voice. He’s talking the same way a person would about the weather they couldn’t care less about. It’s eerie.

I glance at the bathroom door, but Icarus is apparently smart enough to stay out of sight. Or maybe he’s using this opportunity to make more calls. I push the suspicion away. There’s only Zeus and me. “The vote is the only path forward. If not that, then what’s your solution?” I ask carefully.

He reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a gun. I tense, expecting him to open fire, but he sets it carefully on the table…pointing in my direction. “There’s no more time for squabbling and power plays. There’s no uniting the Thirteen with reason. So we’re going around them.”

“ We? ”

“Yes.” He taps his finger on the barrel of the gun, and I can’t stop my flinch in response. Zeus ignores it. In this situation, his late father would have been preening and showcasing a bravado bordering on mania. Not this Zeus. He’s just as cold and contained as the moment he walked through my door. He meets my gaze. “The only question I need answered before moving forward is where your loyalty lies: with me and Olympus…or with my wife?”

Suddenly, there’s not enough air in the room. “What did you say?”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t lean forward, doesn’t do any of the traditional movements that telegraph threat into body language. He just looks at me. “You heard me.”

“How did you…?” It’s not the important question, but it’s the first one that I manage to voice in the strained silence between us.

“I know what the rest of the Thirteen—and the city itself—thinks of me.” His lips shift into something that’s almost a smile. Almost. “A fool with too-large shoes to fill. The Thirteen step carefully around me, but only when they’re in my presence. You don’t think I keep track of where they go and who they talk to? You think I’m not monitoring my wife? ”

It could be a bluff, but I don’t think so. From my understanding, Zeus and Hera might have a privately contentious relationship, but it’s mostly just posturing and icing each other out. He has no reason to think that she’d go to such lengths to plot against him. Even so… “How much do you know?”

“We’re wasting time.” He doesn’t shift the slightest bit. “I’m aware of the little games she played with Ariadne and the Minotaur—and of the plot to ensure my death. And I’m aware that the original plot might have failed, but she still has her aims.”

I almost ask him if he’s aware that she’s pregnant, but ultimately it doesn’t matter. I’m still not even sure if it’s the truth. I can’t read Hera particularly well, and it hasn’t been nearly enough time for evidence of the pregnancy to be visible.

I move slowly to the table and sink into the other chair. “Are you here to kill me?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “For better or worse, we need you. Your people won’t follow me, and you have no immediate family to pick up the title. It would fall to the eldest of Triton’s daughters, and that’s a mess I don’t relish dealing with.”

I can’t help my wince. Triton is another cousin, though he’s once removed from the line, which means the title passed to me even though I’m younger. He’s only been dead a short time, but not having him constantly attempting to undermine me fills me with enough relief to feel guilty. He kept his seven daughters under lock and key for most of their lives, with the exception of the youngest, who slipped through the barrier and took off for Carver City. That was a few years back, I think, and it means that she now has more life experience than the rest of the sisters combined. They’re not bad girls, but they’re so sheltered they have no idea they’d be walking around with a target attached to them if they were Poseidon.

“What I’m suggesting,” Zeus continues, “is that it’s time for the legacy titles to do what we were meant to.”

Alarm bells peal through me, but I fight to keep my expression controlled. I don’t think I do a very good job of it. “There are Thirteen seats for a reason.”

“That makes sense in times of peace. Not in times of war. We have to be decisive.” He leans forward suddenly, making me flinch. “I’m not going to argue with you, Poseidon. I know my wife came to you with the same reasoning and you agreed with her. The difference is that she’s only Hera and I’m Zeus. If we can convince Hades to join us, we have the power to protect the city.”

Only Hera. I might laugh if the situation wasn’t spinning wildly out of control. “Hades will never stand with you against the Dimitriou women.”

“Not even if it protects his people? If the upper city falls, the lower city stands no chance. Their barrier might appear to be holding strong now, but it won’t hold forever. We both know Circe is too smart to have left something like that to chance.”

He has a point. I don’t like it, but he does. I swallow hard. “I can’t fault your logic, but it’s all theory. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter who holds the reins for Olympus because we’re outgunned by our enemies.” I clear my throat. “And Circe will never bargain with a Zeus.”

“I’m aware.” He taps his finger on the gun again, and even knowing it’s coming, I can’t help flinching again. “My wife agrees with you. She would bargain with our enemy to save herself and her family. She’d open the gates and sacrifice every person in Olympus as long as the people she cares about are safe.”

He’s not wrong.

Zeus continues, apparently not needing an answer from me. “I’m not going to bargain with Circe.” This time he does smile. I really wish he didn’t. It’s disconcerting in the extreme. “I’m going to kill her and every general she has fighting at her side. And then I’m going to sink those fucking ships before they have a chance to attack.”

My mind races at the possibility of going forward with this plan without the majority vote by the Thirteen. It’s risky in the extreme, but if we could pull it off… Without the ships, there is no attack. I don’t like the idea of the loss of life that will result, but I like even less the potential loss of life in the city. At least the people on those ships signed up to fight. They’re soldiers, not civilians. Probably.

But… “You’re proposing a coup.”

“A temporary coup.” He holds my gaze. “Athena and I have an agreement. I’m not going to use this situation to set myself up as dictator.”

There’s so much going on beneath his words. I suck in a sharp breath and try to think . Athena is smart and savvy and ruthless to a fault. She’s not going to give up her power to a coup willingly, not unless Zeus is being honest about it being temporary. “Athena is participating in this?”

“Yes.”

I clear my throat. I’ve been embroiled in more plots in the last year than in the last fifteen combined. All because of Zeus and Hera. “What about your wife?”

“Let me handle my wife. She’s none of your concern.” He shifts slightly. “Just know that I’m never going to let this happen again, even if I have to kill most of the Thirteen and hand select their replacements. One way or another, we will be united once the threat of Circe is removed.” He picks up the gun, not quite pointing it at me but the threat is clear. “So I’ll ask you again—where does your loyalty lie?”

There’s only one answer. There’s only ever been one answer, no matter how my striving for it has taken me down strange and stranger paths. “I want what’s best for Olympus.”

“Glad we see eye to eye. We’ll discuss the specifics later today. I’ll text you the location.” He moves toward the door but stops before opening it. “Bring your little captive with you when you come.” He walks out into the night, closing the door softly behind him.

I stand and stretch carefully. There isn’t a sliver of a chance that I’m going back to sleep now. I should be focusing on everything Zeus said—on his coup —but Icarus steps out of the bathroom, derailing my thoughts.

Just like that, his betrayal comes crashing back. “Give me my phone, Icarus.”