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Chapter Seventeen

Hebe

W hen I wake up, I can’t decide what hurts more. Is it my throat screaming for water, my stomach demanding food, or my neck just lamenting how I lay on it?

Lying beside my husband was a worse fate than I feared.

The sun higher in the sky than I was expecting, but it’s still early. A slab of roasted meat and a waterskin lie between me and the dying embers of our fire. On the other side of it, I see Prometheus upright and fiddling with the lion carcass that looks very different from how I left it. Atum is nowhere to be seen.

“Good morning.”

I turn back to Prometheus and find him studying me like I’m the next puzzle he’d like to solve. Mercifully, he’s wearing a fresh chiton .

For a moment, I consider asking him if he has any other spare garments I could change into. But then he nods toward the provisions. “To break your fast.”

“I actually figured that bit out on my own, thank you.” I uncork the waterskin and take a desperate gulp of the lukewarm water. Never has anything tasted more refreshing.

Prometheus’ hands are busy piercing a lion’s claw with another, but his gaze is still on me.

Putting down my waterskin, I awkwardly wipe my chin and tear off a piece of lion meat. “I see you’re doing better.”

“Oh, you figured that out on your own, too, did you?”

I purse my lips before taking my first bite. I walked into that trap.

Prometheus flinches even though I said nothing.

“Where’s Atum?” I finally ask.

“He’s seeing if he can locate the horses.”

“Should he be doing that?”

Prometheus shrugs. “He’s still practically a mortal, but he’s no longer an invalid. If you can stand on your own two feet, my mortal bride, then so can he.” With that, my husband rises, and I realize why the lion carcass looks so different. Its skin has become a pelt that Prometheus wears as a cloak.

How long has he had his strength returned to him? It was not an easy feat, skinning that lion as much as I did, and I didn’t even begin to cure it. Though, Prometheus is the god of ingenuity, so mayhap he knows some special tricks.

My husband crouches next to me and holds out a leather band. It bears four lion claws arranged on it.

I swallow the chewy meat as quickly as possible. “What’s this?”

Prometheus arches a fiery brow. “You only slew the lion last night. Surely, you haven’t forgotten about its existence already.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I sigh. Mayhap I should have just let him get devoured and saved myself the trouble. “I mean, what is this that you have made from it?”

“A necklace. It’s a gift. For you.” Prometheus holds it up.

I blink, surprised. “Thank you.”

He gestures for me to turn, and I do. Then Prometheus reaches around me and allows the necklace to hover with the claws curving outward instead of toward my chest.

“Move your hair,” he orders. “I’d like to avoid touching it while it is so filthy.”

I lift my curls and glare back at him. “Is it my fault that my husband hasn’t taken me safely to my new home, where I can focus on my appearance rather than our survival?”

Prometheus frowns as he wraps the leather around my neck and knots it. “I didn’t mean that as an insult.”

“Then how did you mean that?”

“A simple observation of truth.” His fingers slide across the back of my neck, and my spine stiffens at his touch. “There— your gift is in place.”

I turn back to Prometheus and draw upon all my strength to again say, “Thank you.”

“Well, it seemed only right for you to have a necklace if I had one.” Prometheus pulls my family’s amber amulet up from beneath his chiton .

“You seem to have grown fond of it.”

“Fond enough to keep it around a little longer.”

I do not need him to tell me that he is speaking of more than just the amber.

Nodding, I pat the leather strap of my own necklace, careful to avoid the deadly claws. “Then I shall wear this with pride.”

A crooked smile stretches across Prometheus’ lips. “Clever pun, bride of mine.”

I blink, startled by the genuine compliment. “Thank you.”

He leans toward me slightly. “You’re very welcome.”

For a moment, we just stare at each other— with him looking like he’s waiting on me for something. When I don’t do whatever it is Prometheus desires, he leans a little closer.

Is this some kind of challenge? Should I meet his gaze until one of us has no choice but to back down? Are there consequences for losing this contest and prizes for winning? Or is this a game without stakes meant to pass the time?

“I found them!”

We both lose when we turn to find Atum grinning as he leads our two lost stallions toward us. There is a boyish glint to his eyes and a spring to his step that makes him seem younger than an immortal Primordial can be.

Strangely enough, instead of being bald like last night, he has a layer of fuzz on his scalp that grew faster than should have been possible. Then again, what do I know of Primordial hair? Other than the fact that, despite everything, Prometheus’ hair still isn’t nearly as filthy as mine.

Atum’s enthusiasm is infectious, and I cannot help but stand to greet him. “Excellent work!”

The Guardian of Life straightens with my praise, practically preening. Strangely enough, Prometheus slouches, glaring at his master like my attention is something to be desired.

“I thought it would probably be best if we reached the temple with no further delays,” Atum says as he reaches us. “I have protections in place there so that no other Primordials can harm us there.”

“I suddenly have an increased desire to reach your temple,” I say.

“That excited to bond with your new bridegroom?” Atum winks at me.

He really is a different man— well, male— when he’s not completely depleted of energy. I’m not sure I appreciate it.

Prometheus doesn’t seem to either. “At the moment, not having to fight for our survival is more than enough encouragement for haste.” With that, Prometheus wraps his arms around my waist and hoists me into the now upturned chariot like he hadn’t been completely drained of strength last night.

When I glance back, Prometheus wears a shadow of a grin. He winks. “Curiosity does lend some hurry to my steps, though. Especially since the best part of discovering something new is getting to name it.”

I stare in surprise at Prometheus opening up to me. Then I grip the edge of the chariot while he loads two sacks into the chariot. One smells like it is full of lion meat now.

“We should also hurry so we can get this meat properly salted before it spoils,” I say. “That is very time-sensitive.”

“More so than proving your union so we can forge a truce and end this inferno war?” Prometheus nods sagely. “Quite right. Very practical. I’m glad you have your priorities in place.”

I turn to my new husband in surprise. “Now you are invested with our union?”

“I’ve been curious about it the entire time.” Prometheus climbs into the chariot, wrapping his arms around me and gathering the reins like it’s the most natural thing. “It was just bonding with you specifically that I was unsure of.”

“Pardon me!” I whirl around to better face him, which I see now is a poor strategy at this proximity. Now we’re chest to chest— well, chest to lower ribcage, considering the height difference. Behind Prometheus, Atum is standing, but the space saved by his new position is now claimed by that accursed lion meat.

Prometheus’ eyes glitter with smugness as he meets my gaze. “Oh? Are you going to try to convince me that you were excited at the thought of bonding with me?” His focus drops to my lips before returning to my eyes. He arches one fiery brow, challenging me. “So much so that you wish to honor all the traditions that help you mortals bond with your spouses?”

What is he implying? What has Atum told him? What does Atum even know ?

I lift my chin, reminding myself that I faced a lion just yesterday, and Prometheus is hardly more intimidating. “We already violated one when you forced me to lie beside you last night, so what is the use?”

“You implied that was only customary of the wedding night . What about beyond that? Surely, you cannot expect me to believe that your people bond by keeping their distance forever?”

“That is the best way to keep from driving each other to violence.” I glare at Prometheus so he can feel properly threatened by what our proximity might drive me to.

He just chuckles and flicks the reins.

The horses start trotting, and I fall face-first against my husband’s chest.

The confounded man— god— whatever he is— just chuckles more.

See if I save him from the next lion.

Scowling, I whirl back around, half-hoping Zeus will send another storm so I can be frustrated at someone else for a change.