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Chapter Thirty-Five

Hebe

I don’t know if it’s the overwhelming passion for discovery surging through me or if it’s just the love for my people that will never change. Either way, I’m not appeased with Prometheus’ assurances that there’s nothing more I can do. And despite what I am told, I need to try crossing over Zeus’ threshold before I accept that it will not be me who steals the Fire.

But since I will never get my husband’s blessing to run my test, I require his lessons.

It takes four more “prompts,” for Prometheus to finally let me become a bird— specifically, a turtle dove. Every time before this when I reverted, he looked at me like he expected me to collapse from exhaustion— especially after the lynx form. However, I still have as much energy as I began and I feel like it will never let me rest.

Who needs rest though when one can fly. Honestly, I could flap around this room for the eternity ahead of me and never become bored.

Prometheus seems to sense that, because he pushes away from the wall he was leaning against. “You can revert now, Hebe.”

I fly another lap around the room.

“You’ve already been a bird longer than any of your other forms, which is quite impressive. But don’t you want to move onto your next lesson?”

And become something else furry, four-legged, and completely useless to my mission? I want to learn anything Prometheus has to teach, but all my lessons before this one were getting repetitive. There is so much more I can be. There is so much more I must be.

“ Hebe . I miss your masterful skills of conversation.”

I shake one of my feathers on his head for that before flying another lap.

Prometheus tries to grab me the next time I fly over him, but I easily remain out of his reach. His half-lidded eyes tell me he will not risk turning into something better equipped to chase me down. He hasn’t the energy.

“Hebe, my bride beyond death, my love for life—”

I forget to flap for a moment and nearly plummet.

Prometheus notices, of course, and goes back to leaning against the wall as he smirks up at me.

He has a right to be smug. Flight isn’t as engrossing after my husband just confessed to loving me . Never in my life has someone admitted to such a thing. I assumed my kin cared me, but I was never confident considering my father who should have loved me most of all abandoned me.

Everything in me— from my once delicate mortal heart to my Primordial power surging through me— wants to do exactly what Prometheus wants. I could happily revert, disregard my linen garment and all my responsibilities, and teach us both more about kissing.

But if I dream of becoming a warrior, I must not be strong only during trials; I must also defy temptation.

Prometheus huffs, blowing his hair back out of his eyes. “ Fine. If you revert and show me your pretty face again, I’ll teach you how to shift with your clothes.”

Chirping happily, I dive toward my discarded linen cloth and grasp it between my tiny claws. Then I flap into the adjoining room filled with spears, bows, swords, and other beauties I would love to learn about. If I weren’t so overwhelmed with discovering my new powers, I’d be dragging Prometheus in here for explanations and histories on all of them.

But I must focus on the most important lessons, like shifting with clothes and opening a rift. Not that I can see Prometheus giving me a lesson in the latter willingly considering how long it took him to teach me how to fly. It’s like he’s terrified that if I leave his temple, I will face another gruesome fate. I understand his fear after the horror he must have witnessed, but I have never been as powerful as I am now.

I revert with barely a thought. Then I wrap the linen around me so that my arms are on the outside before hurrying back into the map room.

Prometheus beams when he sees me, his eyes gleaming as brightly as the amber around his neck. “There’s your face! I was beginning to miss it.”

“Oh, yes, it was my face you missed.” I shift my linen a little higher.

“It was your face I missed the most .” His gaze drops to my neck and shoulders. “But I am hardly displeased with any glimpse of my power flowing through you.”

Rolling my eyes, I stride toward him. Prometheus seems to find his wall quite comfortable now that he’s gotten his way and doesn’t help close the distance.

By the time I reach my husband, I can no longer fight my grin. “You said something a moment ago . . .”

“I did?” He smirks. “I suppose I did. Something along the lines ‘Of all the confounded mortal catastrophes, I’m so glad you’re mine.’”

“You really love me?”

Prometheus gazes down at me. “More than I’ve ever loved anyone else— except myself, of course.”

I suppose that’s poetic. I’ve never been loved except by the one who’s never loved. He’d probably choose someone else to adore if he had the experience to know better.

Prometheus snakes an arm around my waist to tug me closer to himself and his precious wall. “And you?”

I lean against his shoulder, which is as firm as the wall, but warmer and much more pleasant. “I’m waiting for my promised lesson.”

“You’re ruthless in pursuit of knowledge. I wonder where you get that from?” Prometheus kisses my temple— where one of my veins glows with his magic, I’m sure.

Shaking my head, I wrap my arms around his broad torso. I did my best to avoid noticing before, but my husband truly is a gorgeous man. And now my beauty almost matches his. “ You complimented me. I think that means I’m supposed to kiss you .”

“If you insist.” Grasping my arms, he breaks my embrace. Then he crouches so that we’re eye-level. “Anywhere you wish.” Prometheus puckers his lips.

I can’t help the giggle that escapes, and he can’t stop his grin— though he quickly resumes his puckering.

With another roll of my eyes, I comb my fingers through Prometheus’ hair, trying not to ignore the lingering stench of smoke. Then I kiss the tip of his nose. “There you go, exactly as you deserve—”

Growling, Prometheus presses his lips to mine.

After his passivity before, I am not prepared for passion— especially considering how exhausted he’s been acting.

I hurry to follow his lead, surprised by the skill of a novice. My husband is a fast learner.

Everything in me burns to learn more, too. I cannot imagine how much more the need burns in Ptometheus since he is fully consumed by the Primordial magic my body has only just discovered.

Despite it, Prometheus is the first to break away, resting his temple against mine. “Now say you love me.”

I shiver at his husky voice. “What if I don’t?”

He traces a finger down one of the veins that moves all the way down my arm. “Then lie to me, Little Flame.” He grasps my wrist and runs his finger across a glowing vein. “And I’ll make every word ring true.”

“H-how?”

Prometheus draws my wrist up to his lips and kisses where he was just rubbing. “We’ll discover together.” He tugs me closer, so that his breath wafts over my skin. “And it will certainly please you.”

My eyes drift close. Fighting Zeus’ lion was not as difficult as resisting this man.

But my people need me, and I will sacrifice whatever it takes to save them— even this moment. “You agreed to teach me how to shift with my garments.”

Prometheus groans. “You are a determined woman.”

I kiss his cheek and rub his smooth jaw that I have grown strangely fond of. “For the compliment.” Then I pull away. “But no more until you honor your bargain.”

“And you’re a cruel.”

“You bargained .”

Prometheus leans toward me. “But I didn’t say when .”

I press a finger to his lips. “I don’t want to scandalize one of your acolytes.”

“I have no acolytes in residence.”

Startled, I step back. “Shouldn’t you call them in? To protect them from what is coming?”

Prometheus turns from me.

I frown. “You don’t have any acolytes, do you?”

“None have chosen me. You might think I’m selfish, my eternal flame, for not fighting harder for mortals. But the truth is, I have served mortals for centuries— leading them toward the light and teaching them how to improve their lives. Yet they’ve found new ways to destroy one another, so I wash my hands of those who care more about slaying their enemies than protecting themselves.” Ire laces every word.

“I see now.”

He turns back to me. “You do?”

“They turned their backs on you long before you did the same to them.”

“They turned on you , too! They sentenced you to death . Why do you still fight for them?”

Because my whole life has been dedicated to contributing to a community that did not have a place for me. It is a habit. I barely had a choice. Yet I did choose, because despite it all . . . “I love them. For better or for worse, I love them. I don’t expect you to understand.”

“I think I do,” Prometheus whispers as he studies me. “It’s one thing I wish I didn’t discover, but I have.”

Swallowing hard, I look away. A husband’s adoration is more than I ever dared to hope for.

But it would be selfish in me to relish in it while the world burns for my failure.