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Chapter Nineteen

Prometheus

“W hat do you know of kissing?” Hebe demands from the dark side of the pool.

“Nothing.” I realize with some surprise that I’m still wearing my amulet. “That’s why I’m asking you .”

“I-I know little more than you, to be honest.”

“Well, what do you know?” Taking a handful of sand from a nearby urn, I rub it into my hair.

“Not much!” Hebe sounds more exasperated than usual, and I’m sure she wishes that didn’t delight me so. “When I asked, I was told it was the sort of thing that husbands and wives ought to discover together.”

“Ah.” Ducking under the water, I let the sand rinse out before rising in the center of the pool. Here, I can almost see the imaginary border between my side of the pool and Hebe’s shadowy waters.

Her silhouette startles. “What are you—?”

Not crossing the border, I hold out my hands. “We can discover together.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“Because— because I don’t desire to!”

I startle, and so does she. Then I feel my smirk grow. “Ah, so my sacrificial lamb has discovered how to defend herself rather than everyone else? Finally .”

“What do you mean? You wanted me to reject you?”

“I wanted to not be the only one fighting for your survival. Help from you is certainly appreciated on that front, especially now that I know what you are capable of in a fight.” I turn away and move deeper into my side of the bath as the water flows around my waist.

“Careful, husband of mine. That almost sounded like a compliment.”

I glance back over my shoulder. “Well, Atum may have mentioned that kisses were more likely to occur when pretty words were involved . . .”

“Oh, so this is all a ploy?” Despite her accusation, Hebe’s words are lighthearted as she crosses her arms.

“Ah, but an honest ploy. Can you fault a trickster for using the truth?”

“I can when I suspect that even the truth is a trick.”

I grin at her fiery spirit. “Then you have once again uncovered my games. You see, what I truly desire is for some assistance scrubbing my back. And since you have denied my kiss, do you have it in you to help me with this small favor instead?”

Since Hebe hasn’t railed at me yet, I add, “I have to ask since possess the one and only pumice stone in this humble bathhouse . . .”

“Very well, since you are my husband and this is a small enough favor compared to the kiss. But only on one condition.”

“Anything, Little Flame.”

Hebe stiffens at the nickname I did not mean to speak aloud. Then she clears her throat. “You must turn your head and look only forward until I say otherwise.”

Snorting, I do as she says. “Is this an attempt to entice me? You know curiosity is my strongest instinct.”

“I assure you, my brutish beau, that this is for my elevated sensibilities and not an attempt to pique your interest.” Her voice is closer, the water rippling around me from her approach.

“‘Brutish’? ‘Elevated’? My sweet burden, I think you have forgotten that you’re the savage in this relationship.”

The pumice stone scrapes my upper back. “Says the one who doesn’t even know what kissing is.”

“You claim a similar ignorance.”

Hebe offers no gentleness in her ministrations, but they feel no less relaxing despite being rough. She seems to scrub away both the filth of the journey and the tension of all that concerns me just now.

Zeus’ demand for a prompt answer. My upcoming betrayal. The bride I want to bond with, though she wants nothing to do with me.

She might change her mind when I provide for her a deliverance not offered to the rest of her kind. Or Hebe will simply resent me all the more for turning my back on a people I cannot save. It really is a toss-up since she conceals so much of herself from me.

I need to learn more about her— not only to appease my curiosity, but also to determine my next strategy. Which is difficult to do when I am not even allowed to look at her.

I’ve never wanted to gaze at her stoic face more than in this moment.

“Bargain with me,” I murmur, hardly knowing what I’m saying. Ever since we Primordials were made to swear on the River Styx, bargains are a matter of life or death. Well, life or suffering , anyway.

Hebe lowers the pumice stone. “Pardon?”

“Surely, your people know about bargains.”

“We do. We also know better than to enter into them with Olympians. That’s folly.”

I roll my eyes. “Says the woman who entered into a marriage bargain with one. If it soothes your worries, I cannot violate a vow without suffering greatly.”

“And if I break my side? What would be my penalty?”

“You would belong to me. Since you already do . . .” I reach back, my finger brushing over skin.

Hebe gasps and darts out of reach.

“You really have nothing to lose,” I add.

“What is your bargain, then, O husband of mine?” Her tone is sterner now. I’ve apparently found a new way to upset her.

If I devoted my entire eternity to discovering all the ways I can rouse her anger, I fear I would still fail to create a sufficient record.

“Tell me what you desire more than anything else life this side of the veil offers. I am not without power, and I could be of some help in your achieving it.”

Hebe snorts. “And what do you want in return for my impossible wish?”

“A kiss.”