Page 7

7

Icarus

I know Poseidon expected me to be a good little captive and stay put like he commanded, but I’m not the kind of person to let an opportunity pass me by. Survival is the only thing that matters. Maybe if I think that enough times, it’ll actually feel true. I know it’s what my sister would want. I promised her I’d meet her in Brazil, and the only way I can do that is if I’m alive and free when Carnaval comes around next year. The thought of everything standing between me and a reunion with her is almost enough to drive me from the new bed that was made up while I was in the bathroom, as pristine as if violence never happened here. I am so godsdamned tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of failing.

But Ariadne committed the most unforgivable act in existence to keep me alive—she killed our father. Apparently I do have some honor within me because I can’t let my baby sister bathe her hands in blood on my behalf, only for me to die a few days later.

Shame, more than anything else, finally gets me to test the door. It was locked previously, but I was certain I hadn’t heard Poseidon lock it when he left earlier. Sure enough, the knob twists easily against my palm. Every move is an understated agony, but that’s life, isn’t it? I’m used to it by now. Granted, my father’s “punishments” never reached the level Poseidon’s man committed against me, but I’ve learned to move smoothly even while in pain.

I slip out into the hall and look around carefully. I only got a glimpse of the rest of the house as Poseidon hauled me in here…yesterday? It’s hardly a maze, though. Best I can tell, it’s laid out in a perfect square. The hallway is a straight line that turns at a right angle on either end. I pick a direction on instinct, retracing my steps toward the entrance. I know better than to try to escape. I won’t last long on my own. There are too many people in this city who blame my father—rightly so—and my family for all the horrible changes in the last few months. Since my father’s dead, one of my foster brothers is now protected by the Kasios family, and Ariadne and the Minotaur have escaped the city entirely. That only leaves me.

If I’m going to keep my promise to my sister, I can’t play scapegoat for an entire terrified city.

My best option is to stay here and convince Poseidon I’m an asset worthy of being protected. At least until I can find a way to make contact with whoever Circe has brought with her to threaten the city.

Voices slow my pace. I recognize Poseidon’s deep timbre, but it’s his light, lyrical conversation partner that has my heart beating faster. I know that voice. I’ve heard it in interviews my father played during his research on the Thirteen. She’s no longer the newest member, but she is the one who interested him mightily. Hera. The woman holding the same position Circe did, albeit this Hera has now held it longer.

What’s she doing here?

I pad to the top of the stairs and stop just before stepping into view. Truly, if they wanted to have a private conversation, doing it in the foyer is just ill-advised. Anyone could listen—and I fully intend to. Every piece of information is a weapon I must mold to my own use, because becoming invaluable is the only way to survive.

And, dammit, I will survive. If not for myself, then for my sister. That’ll have to be motivation enough to put one foot in front of the other against these seemingly insurmountable odds. I’ve faced impossible odds before, and even though I’ve faltered before accomplishing true victory, I’m still here and so many of my tormentors aren’t. What is that if not success?

I carefully lean my shoulder against the wall and concentrate on keeping my breathing even so there’s nothing to give my presence away. Only once I have myself under control do I slide forward a little until I can see them both at the bottom of the stairs.

Poseidon is visibly agitated, his hands shifting at his sides and his entire body tense. “Hera, you can’t.”

She looks so tiny next to him, for all that she’s not a particularly short woman. I’ve only met one of the Dimitriou women during my time in Olympus—the youngest, Eurydice—and while I can see some similarities in their beauty, Eurydice practically radiates kindness and Hera is cold enough to freeze the unwary.

Her voice demonstrates none of the emotion brimming in Poseidon’s. “On the contrary, I must. We have no naval forces. We have no defense. The only way forward is compromise with a healthy dose of trickery.”

He actually takes a step back, as if her words are a physical force battering against his big body. “You sound like Hermes—and we both know she’s a traitor.”

“ Do we know that? Because the more we find out about Circe and her reasons for hating this city, the more I wonder.” Hera looks particularly elegant this afternoon. In her interviews, she tends to favor menswear or sharply designed dresses that fit her lean form. What she’s wearing now is almost a gown. A dress fit for a dark queen, the black fabric hugging her chest while leaving her shoulders bare and then billowing out around her stomach and hips to fall in smooth lines to the ground. All she needs is a crown to complete the picture.

I wonder about Hermes too, but she’s not my problem and neither are her motivations. Most importantly, she’s not here to be an asset to help me accomplish my aims.

“Are you listening to yourself?” Poseidon rumbles. “The only reason I agreed to work with you is for the betterment of Olympus. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“It is what I want.” Her voice is so cold, I can’t tell if she’s speaking truthfully or crafting an artful lie. “We have an opportunity to stop this entire invasion before it gets properly started. To save lives. That is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

She’s boxed him in rather neatly, if I do say so myself. It’s increasingly clear that Poseidon’s greatest weakness is the perception of his honor. If it’s not an act…

I have no idea how he’s survived as long as he has when he wears his emotions on his face and in his hands. Or, more accurately, in his fingers tapping nervously against his thigh. It’s obviously an expression of discomfort; he might as well have posted a neon sign above his head saying as much. If he wasn’t in a legacy position, he never would’ve become one of the Thirteen.

He probably would’ve been happier that way.

“Fine,” he says flatly. “What do you have in mind?”

Her gaze flicks over his shoulder, catching mine. Caught. Fuck. Her smile widens, a pleased cat inviting a mouse to come play between its paws. “We have an eavesdropper—and just who I wanted to see. Come down, Icarus. You may as well have a voice in this conversation since I intend to utilize your resources.”

Poseidon whips around, and I’m not expecting the betrayal that flickers over his face…or the strange guilt that flickers in my chest in response. I have nothing to feel guilty for. He’s my enemy, just like everyone else in this godsforsaken city. My goal of surviving Olympus means the only rule I hold to is doing whatever it takes to come out on top and escape with my life. I don’t have another choice.

I wish I could say that I float gracefully down the staircase, but the truth is that I white-knuckle the banister and take each step slowly to avoid my knees buckling. Every breath is agony, and my body is not on board with all this moving around. When I finally come to a stop on the ground floor, it’s everything I can do not to pant for breath and shake. Only a lifetime of training keeps my body steady and my haggard exhales trapped in my lungs. I even manage a smile. “Hera herself. I’m honored.”

“I want a meeting with Circe. How do I contact her?”

“Hera!” Poseidon roars.

I ignore him, keeping my attention on her. “So abrupt.” The more I speak, the smoother my tone becomes. I know how to do this. How to flirt and charm and take everything while giving the bare minimum. I have at least some of the knowledge she needs, and while I’m obviously not immune to torture, blunt doesn’t seem to be this Hera’s style. “You’re not even going to buy me breakfast first?”

She flicks her long dark hair over one shoulder. On anyone else, the move might seem flirtatious. With this woman, it’s a threat. “As I’m sure you’re aware, I don’t have time to waste with this song and dance. If I have to drag you out of here by your hair, then I will. Your father had a way to contact Circe. How did he do it?”

This, at least I have the answer to. I shrug. “It’s this deliriously clever device called the telephone. You should try it sometime.”

“You do have a quick mouth, don’t you?” She moves closer to me, and even with the new clothing now covering my body, I somehow get the sensation that she sees my wounds. I barely have a moment to tense before she grabs the back of my neck and presses her hand to my chest. Hard.

It happens so quickly, there is no bracing for it. Agony sends me to my knees, and Hera follows me down, bending to keep the pressure on my wound. “Let’s try this again, shall we?” Her voice is perfectly even while I’m fighting not to scream. “How do I contact Circe?”

“That’s enough.” Just like that, it ends. Hera’s still in front of me, still gripping the back of my neck, but the hand causing me so much pain has been removed. Poseidon has his fingers wrapped around her wrist, and he holds her touch several precious inches away from me. “Let him go.”

“I knew you were soft, but I didn’t think you were suicidal.” He releases her so she can rise to her feet and take two cautious steps backward. Somehow, it doesn’t look like a retreat when she does it, but more like a recalculation. Hera examines her wrist. “I should kill you for that.”

I don’t miss the way Poseidon half steps in front of me, shielding me with his large body. “I didn’t hurt you, and you know it. I simply stopped you from hurting him.” For all his firm words, his finger has started that tapping on his thigh again. “Icarus.”

I jolt. Has he ever said my name before? Surely he has. And yet it feels different this time. It feels, somehow, like he’s reached out and touched me. Dangerous. Ill-advised. I know better than to fall for the good-cop, bad-cop act. I’m not entirely certain Poseidon has the duplicity to pull off that sort of ruse, but I can’t entirely rule it out. It’s possible they’re manipulating me. I have to keep that in the back of my mind.

Poseidon glances over his shoulder at me. “Do you have her number?”

“It’s hardly something my father would just give out.”

He narrows his amber eyes. “So you do have it.”

Dammit, I thought that non-answer might distract him. But then again, pain is making me slow, swirling my thoughts as if they were molasses. If I give them Circe’s number, what use do they have for me?

No, I can’t afford to think like that. Circe is hardly going to entertain a compromise at this stage of the game. I don’t know her overly well, but I know enough of the moves she’s made to be sure of that. Giving them the phone number ensures they continue to believe I have information they need. They’ll call her and be shut down immediately, and then they’ll come back to me for more. This is the right move. I’m sure of it.

I stagger to my feet, ignoring the way Poseidon starts to reach out to help me. “Fine. You can have it.” I rattle it off, watching as Hera wastes no time pulling a phone out and typing in the number. I half expect her to make the call right then and there, but she slips her phone back into the pocket of her dress and nods.

“Lovely. I’ll be in contact.” She turns and sweeps from the room, and a few seconds later the front door slams to signify her exit. It’s the only outward sign of her anger. Surprising that she’d allow even that much on display. Interesting.

But I’ll consider that more when I’ve rested. Right now, I’m swaying on my feet. I start to take a step but my body won’t cooperate. Poseidon catching my elbow is the only thing that keeps me off the floor. His expression is downright forbidding as he studies me. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”

“Aren’t you glad I’m not? Look at what an asset I am. Look at how cooperative I am. Just like a good little captive.”

His dark-red brows draw together. “What game are you playing, Icarus?”

Now is the time to ensure he’ll continue to protect me. To go on my best behavior and play by the rules he’s set out. I don’t. Instead, that perverse little impulse inside me, the one that always gets me into trouble, takes the reins. I lean against him, pressing my hand to his chest right over his steadily beating heart. “I’ll play any game you want me to, lover.”

“What are you talking about?”

I blink up at him, searching his expression. Normally, when I drop some innuendo, the target of my desires picks up on it quickly enough. Most people are simply looking for an excuse to do the “bad” thing, the opportunity to take my hand and be led into the lust-filled night. And all the while, they tell themselves that it’s not their fault, that they have no choice but to go to bed with me.

But there’s none of that with Poseidon. He genuinely looks confused. Either he’s a better actor than I could have dreamed or… I push forward, testing him. “I’m talking about sex , Poseidon. Down and dirty fucking. Whatever flavor you’re into, I guarantee I’ve done it. I’d like to do it with you .”

“You’re talking about…” Poseidon’s face flares a delicious crimson. His mouth moves, but no words come out. I actually made him speechless. I don’t know if I’ve ever done that to a potential lover before. Not that I had plans to make Poseidon my lover five minutes ago, but now it seems like a great idea.

“You’re probably asking yourself why I want to fuck you.” I keep talking on pure instinct, but my mind is moving a mile a minute. This…isn’t an act. I had my doubts before, but now I’m sure of it. He genuinely isn’t playing hard to get. It literally never crossed his mind that I might set out to seduce him.

Aw, wee lamb.

“We’re not… We can’t… Absolutely not.” He’s sputtering. I shouldn’t find it so charming, but I do. Especially when he shifts back as if putting more distance between us will change the possibility I’ve put to voice. “It would be a horrible abuse of power,” he finally manages, voice strangled.

“You’re one of the Thirteen,” I say slowly, still determined to test him. “Experience says that power is meant to be abused.”

“It’s wrong.”

“That just makes it even hotter.” Oh yeah, I’m going to seduce the fuck out of Poseidon. Because he’s handsome, yes, and powerful, of course, but most importantly, because he truly is honorable. If he feels like he’s taking advantage of his captive, guilt will take residence in that impressive chest of his. It will ensure he continues to protect me until I no longer need him.

And I’ll get to have a bit of fun in the process.