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Chapter Twenty-Four

Prometheus

E ven though I have the Tablet in my hand, I feel like it’s slipping away.

Atum beams at my wife like he has any right to do so after he gave her to me . “You would really be willing to risk your life to steal Zeus’ Fire?”

Hebe begins to nod, but I grab her chin and turn her to face me instead.

“It wouldn’t just be your life you’d be risking,” I say. “While Zeus might incinerate you on sight simply for the audacity of being mortal in his presence, it depends what disposition you find him in. And if his mood is sunnier . . . he may take you hostage, which is far worse. Zeus has had centuries to determine the best ways to make a soul suffer for crossing him.”

Fear passes over Hebe’s expression as she processes the bitter truth. But then her determination shines through all the fiercer as she grabs my wrist. “Then so be it.”

My stomach drops. Why did I have to get a bride with no sense of self-preservation? “This is foolhardy. You’ll almost certainly perish.”

“But they may possibly survive.” Hebe closes her eyes in resignation, her hand still on my wrist. I’m surprised she hasn’t pushed my hand away.

Unless . . unless she likes me touching her.

I can use that.

Ignoring the three earnest gazes on us, I lean closer to Hebe, dropping my voice to a whisper. “It wouldn’t just be your life and your suffering you’re risking . . . my heart would also be in danger.”

Her eyes fly open and lock on mine. Hebe searches my gaze frantically, as though she can find any trace of the greatest lie I ever told her.

Despite the deceit, I am fond of her, if only because she is mine. Well, that and because heroically saved my life and is the key to discovering new knowledge in more than one way.

So, it is indeed fondness she finds in my gaze. And hopefully it is my desire to return to the exploration of mortal bonding traditions that she sees rather than my grip on the Tablet.

“We’ll give you two a moment,” Atum says, breaking my focus.

I turn to find the High Priestess already hurrying toward the doors. Atum grabs Sia’s arm and drags the flabbergasted Entity behind him while the man gapes at us.

It seems that my being affectionate is not something he ever saw coming. If only Sia’s original perception of me was accurate, because I wish I did not care for my mortal bride so much.

True, I could probably take another if she died. But I’ve already grown fond of Hebe’s brand of beauty now that she’s bathed— especially now that we’ve bathed together . And my new bride would likely not be as brave as Hebe— which would be both a blessing and a curse. I doubt my new bride would be as clever. And what if she talks a too much?

“Remember that you must not bond yet,” Atum calls. “She must remain fully mortal for this to work.”

As if he has a right to dictate how I behave with my bride that he gave to me and now seeks to take away.

Fully mortal . . . If we bonded now, not only would I finally know the secrets I’ve sacrificed so much for, but might I also spare my wife?

The doors close behind our former companions, leaving my wife and me alone in the room.

“Prometheus?”

There is something in Hebe’s tone of voice I’ve never heard before. There are surprise, curiosity, and softness, which I know. But there’s something else— something that seems to match the strange burning in my blood that began the first time Hebe touched her lips against my skin.

I turn slowly to find Hebe studying me with a hooded expression. It is like she wants to trust me but can’t quite bring herself to.

She is wise, my little wife.

“Prometheus . . .” She lightly places a hand against my cheek, which shouldn’t be so startling. After all, I’m still touching her chin.

But was there a time before this that Hebe touched me for a reason other than necessity or my goading?

“Hebe,” I answer, not sure what else to say. Are we just whispering each other’s names now? Is that another mortal bonding tradition?

“You’re kinder than I thought you’d be,” she finally says. “Maybe you’re not a good man, but you are more than I hoped for.”

I blink at her. “Thank you?”

“You’re also a survivor. That takes its own kind of courage.”

Is she trying to somehow convince me that it’s a good idea for her to try to steal from Zeus? Because that will never happen. “That may be true, but—”

“And you are clever. No one could say otherwise, friend or foe.”

I stare at her for a moment before the cleverness she just complimented finally catches up with what is going on. “Are you . . . flattering me?”

Hebe arches one eyebrow as if asking why it took me so long to realize that.

I’m not sure I know why, but I suspect it has something to do with her proximity. The fragrant oils she used remind me of our shared bath from before everything took a turn for a worse. Back when it was just her and me and nothing in between . . .

“I suppose that means I owe you something.” A slow smile stretches across my face. “Well, two and a half somethings, anyway.”

“Why a half?” Hebe leans closer.

I close the distance between us, my temple resting on hers. “The first one was only a partial compliment and you know it. You’re fortunate I’m giving you half a kiss.”

“Oh, yes. Very fortunate.”

My smile grows with her sarcastic tone, and seconds stretch by.

Hebe studies me. “Well? Are you going to repay your debt, or are you just a common trickster who is all talk and no action?”

I want to protest that I’ve never kissed before and that I need a moment, but discovering new abilities is my favorite thing. Olympus only knows why I’m stalling when Hebe has shown me clearly what must be done.

Dropping my hand, I pull away from her enough to reorient myself. Then I close the distance between us again. This time I press my lips to her cheek, just like she did for me.

Hebe’s skin is soft, and it is no struggle to hold my mouth against it.

I’m not sure how much pressure to apply, so I end that kiss and take her hand.

Her darkening gaze studies me as I draw Hebe’s wrist up to my lips, imitating her actions earlier this day.

“And . . . the half?”

Lowering her hand, I lean in again.

Hebe’s eyes widen before her eyelids begin to lower. She doesn’t move as my hand moves from hers to splay across her back. Then my lips brush over the corner of her mouth.

My free hand continues to clutch the Table that led us to this moment. It hums with unknown knowledge.

I pull away. “There you go. Your half a kiss.”

Hebe’s eyes flutter open, but I don’t meet her gaze, directing my focus toward the Tablet instead.

“Prometheus?”

Ignoring her, I run my finger over the letters engraved onto the Tablet and let its knowledge envelop me.