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Chapter Twenty

Prometheus

T he water laps against me from the ferocity of Hebe’s retreat. “Pardon?!”

But my blood is already thrumming with the power of a bargain. We must come into agreement, or else I will find no rest. “I have heard that there are many things that a mortal might do and call a ‘kiss.’ Choose whichever method you prefer— or, since you claim to be a novice, whichever you are most curious about trying.”

Hebe inhales sharply.

And I plunge on. “I only say this because presently we must learn to bond in the Primordial way— something no one has ever done before so we have no concept of potential danger . . . And it simply seemed wiser to be prepared as much as possible by bonding in the mortal way.” I lightly splash the water. “At least for you, considering your delicate constitution. But if you are too fearful—”

“I accept your bargain.”

The words make my blood warmer, sealing me irrevocably to the bargain. But it is the simple confidence of those words— spoken by a woman so sure of herself and yet with something to prove— that startles me more than the acceptance of the bargain. I glance back in surprise before I can stop myself.

Hebe hasn’t retreated as far into the shadows as I thought. The darkness wraps around her carelessly, revealing fingerbreadths of her form I have not seen before. Her arms are wrapped tightly around her, covering her chest like she is trying to embrace herself rather than her husband like she ought.

Flashing eyes draw my gaze back to Hebe’s face, and the silent fury there reminds me of her condition for helping me. I pivot back around, but the sight of her has been etched into my mind with the same permanence as statues carved from marble.

Silence stretches between us, shaming me along with every thud of my heart that beats too loudly in a haven where no danger presents itself.

Finally, Hebe speaks. “I want to be a warrior— no, more than that. I want to be worthy of legends. I want a chance to do some brilliant feat of heroism that— even if it is the last thing I do— allows me to live forever in the memories of those who retell it.”

I stare at the wall, frowning. What a foreign concept. “What if this bonding works and you live forever? You could tell your own stories then.”

“That isn’t what I want.” With that, Hebe grasps both my shoulders. “Now, let’s get this over with.”

“That hardly seems the proper attit—”

The word escapes me, and every thought flees after it when I feel a new point of contact between my bride and me. Something so soft it must be Hebe’s lips presses against the skin between my shoulder blades.

A shiver runs down my spine, and I know of only one mortal legend that could account for this level of power. A kiss .

Hebe pulls away too soon, releasing my shoulders from her grip, but not my psyche from her spell. Is it the bonding process that has enflamed my skin and set fire to my blood?

“There. That is done.” Hebe’s voice sounds impossibly cold. “Now you will help me become a warrior?”

“A legend I have made you already as my wife, but as a warrior?” It is a miracle my words are so smooth, and it must come from a power that is greater than mine. “I certainly have no intentions to go into further danger— and since your fate is tied to mine, neither shall you.”

“But you said you would help me achieve my dream!”

I hold up a finger. “No, I said I could . The power is there. Just not the desire. Consider that an allegory of our marriage, my mortal bride.”

Hebe cries out as if I’d struck her. Then water splashes violently against my back.

Chuckling, I make my way back to my side of the bath. Then, since these waters are no longer safe, I climb out.

Ignoring Hebe’s startled gasp, I take one of the linens and dry myself off. Then I help myself to one of the chitons stacked on a stone for Atum and me.

My wife doesn’t say a single word while I dress. So, while I fasten my flame-shaped pin in place to hold up my sleeve, I turn back to her.

Hebe has retreated so far into her shadows that I don’t see her at first.

“Aren’t you going to dress, wife of mine?” I drape the invincible lion skin back over my shoulders as a cape.

“The garments are all near you.”

“So? Come get them. There is quite the selection.” I trail my fingers through the soft garments.

“Very well; I will dress after you leave.”

Scoffing, I lean against the wall, cross my arms, and arch my brows at Hebe’s shadowy form. “I’m not planning on leaving without you. Not when I need you so I can finally learn the Primordial bonding ritual.”

“Please . . .”

“‘ Please’ what, my dear?”

“Just bring me the garments so I can dress in the shadows.”

I roll my eyes as I abandon the priestess’ peplos and select one of my chitons instead. If Hebe insists on being difficult for no apparent reason, so shall I. “What have you to hide, wife of mine? You are only piquing my curiosity.”

“I’m not hiding anything that concerns you. It is only basic modesty that keeps me in these shadows. Something you evidently know nothing about.”

“Something I know nothing about?” I invade her shadowy realm and crouch by the pool. “Do tell me about this secret knowledge, little bride.”

Hebe reaches for the chiton , but I lift it just out of her reach.

Groaning, she splashes at me, but I avoid the wave.

“Since this is so important to you . . .” I smirk. “What say you to another bargain?”

“I am not giving you another kiss.”

“Of course not. I know your tradition— kisses in exchange for compliments. We can adhere to that from now on out. No, it’s something else that I desire.”

Glaring so hard, her rage almost illuminates our dark corner, Hebe crosses her arms again. “And what, pray tell, do you desire so much that you torment me in your pursuit of it?”

What I desire is for you to come out and dress by the candlelight so I can discover what your modesty so zealously protects. But I know better than to bargain for what will never be offered.

“Well?” Hebe demands.

“I want to know what you desire from me,” I ask before I know what I’m saying.

Hebe seems to understand my words less than I do, and stares at me in shock. “Wh-what?”

“That is . . .” I glance away, not sure how to salvage this. “I have never had a mortal bride— or any bride at all—as you well know. I know what you desire and see I do not factor into your previous dream. But now that a new path is before your feet with me by your side . . . what is it you want now , Hebe?”

I asked her what she wanted, knowing very well I would never be able to fulfill dreams made before she met me. But now . . . Well, I know what I desire from this marriage. It is only prudent to learn my wife’s wishes. If it is prudent to know thy enemy, it’s that much wiser to know thy closest ally— especially when that ally views you as more of a foe than a friend. Yes, it was wisdom and strategy that drove me to ask that question. No other motive is necessary . . .

“I-I don’t know,” Hebe finally says.

Scoffing, I hold the chiton higher. “You ‘don’t know’? That sounds like the sort of answer that leaves you naked in the bath for an eternity.”

“Prometheus!”

“Think for a moment and give me your genuine answer. Then and only then shall your bargain be fulfilled.”

Hebe growls, and for a moment, I think she’s gone completely feral. Until she ducks under the water.

I brace myself for another aquatic attack, but none comes. Neither does Hebe rise, though several moments pass. Mortals require more air to sustain their lives than my kind do. Has she run out yet? Is she trying to drown herself? Is my riddle truly that wretched to her?

Dropping the chiton , I reach to fish Hebe out. I did not bring her through a storm and then survive a lion just for her to expire on the brink of accessing the Tablet.

Before I can grab hold of her, though, Hebe rises on her own accord. She doesn’t even choke for breath. Hebe does gasp, though, at the sensation of my suspended hands brushing over her arms that rose between them.

Her skin feels soft from the oils she rubbed into it, and I want to continue exploring the texture. However, since I don’t need my bride trying to drown herself from revulsion again, I begin to release her.

“I want . . .”

I freeze.

“I want to learn,” she gasps, and I realize she’s speaking the answer to my bargained question. “I want to live, to see, to explore, and to experience. In short, I want everything that I thought marriage would steal from me and spinsterhood denied me. I thought death would be my way to make a name for myself, but now that I live, I want the chance to find some other way to become a legend.”

After her speech— the most I believe I’ve ever heard from her at once— Hebe stares up at me as water flows around her shoulders. Even in the darkness I can see the challenge glittering in her eyes.

“Then you are truly fortunate, bride of mine.” Instead of coming to my side as it ought, one of my hands returns to her skin and skims over the water droplets on her face.

Hebe doesn’t recoil, so I don’t retreat.

“In these war-torn days, I can guarantee little,” I add. “My power, though once great, has become limited, so strategy alone protects me from my many enemies. Death— or worse, suffering— may befall us at any moment. But in this one thing, I can assure you.”

Hebe steps closer to my ledge like she fears she will not hear me otherwise. My hand slides into her damp locks with the movement, and my fingers immediately begin exploring her curls.

“This one thing I can promise you with no need for a bargain to keep me honest,” I add in a lower voice that draws Hebe still closer like I anticipated.

“Yes?” Hebe whispers, her hands clutching the edge of the pool as she stares up at me.

Since she can longer draw closer, I lower my face to hers so she can hear my whispered vow. “As my wife, you will have no choice but to learn, to live, to see, to explore, and to experience. ”

Hebe’s lips part, but no words escape, which is hardly unusual. However, despite knowing her tendencies to silence, I can’t look away from her mouth for fear of missing what she may say. Mayhap she will even kiss me again . . .

My fingers wrap possessively around the base of her skull. “Hebe, my wife, your skin is softer than the choicest linens.”

I feel her gaze desperately scanning my face, as though there are secrets to be discovered there. Still, she says nothing.

Jealous, my other hand returns to Hebe. It brushes against her shoulder before trailing down her arm and under the water.

Hebe shivers but doesn’t pull away. Nor does she close the distance between her lips and my skin.

Desperate for anything from her, I rest my temple against her. “And I must confess that you, my bride, are the bravest soul I have ever met in my long life— mortal or Primordial.”

Gasping, Hebe releases her hold of the ledge and wraps her hands around my neck. I have finally earned my kiss.