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Chapter Thirty-Seven

Prometheus

I recline on one of my mismatched dining couches and stare at the clay ceiling above me. Is my strength even regenerating? Will it ever fully recover, or did I put too much of it into Hebe? I cannot tell.

I cannot tell anything beyond the vague premonition that something is not right.

Zeus cannot harm us here with my protections in place. Beyond my temple . . . well, Zeus won’t be happy about my rushing off before vowing fealty. However, after what happened to Hebe, I can no longer delude myself that she will follow me into Zeus’ service.

I’m not certain I could even look at Zeus again after the destruction he caused. It’s better that I don’t— because if I did, I might try to do something that will make me the focal point of Zeus’ wrath.

No, it’s best that Hebe and I remain in my one temple. Zeus will eventually forget about me, and Hebe will no longer remember her people— except for the ones I’ve agreed to let wander around my home.

Eventually she’ll forget even those in the years after they pass. Mortals have such short lifespans because of their curse. It’s a shame their lives will be cut even shorter now because of Zeus, but it is not my concern.

When all is said and done, and the Fire is used up, then Hebe and I can revert to Atum’s original plan. We’ll show the Primordials that mortals can become Awoken, not just Ascendant, and that we can live together. The Primordials will have already sated their bloodlust by then and might even be glad for an excuse to let the remaining mortals live.

And that will please Hebe. Mayhap then she will even return my love.

Folding my hands, I let my eyes close so I can recover faster.

But something still doesn’t feel right.

Groaning, I swing my legs off the couch and check the entrance. The doors are still closed with no trace of tampering.

Mayhap Hebe needs something? We’re still discovering which mortal needs she still has.

I climb the stairs to the room I left Hebe in and peer inside. It is hard to see through the shadows, but the nest of linens I made for her looks . . . empty.

“Hebe?” I call.

She doesn’t respond, so I step inside.

Hebe isn’t not there.

I charge back out of the room. Did she take a form she can’t revert from? Surely, she didn’t run fly out or something foolhardy like that. “Hebe!”

There is no response, but I feel a strange energy in the air like a rift.

Charging back into the room, I reach out my arm and I feel it. I reach out and rip open a rift I didn’t create.

On the other side is Atum’s temple. So this wasn’t an abduction.

It’s a second heist attempt.

“You are a determined woman,” I mutter. Clenching my fists, I step through the rift.

If I could die, that woman would most certainly be the cause.

Hebe isn’t in Atum’s temple. I didn’t think she would be, but I had hoped she would remain in safety until she determined whether or not Zeus was in residence. Unfortunately, my Hebe is no planner. Courage took all the place of strategy in her soul.

And so that is how I find myself flying into Zeus’ temple for the second time in as many days.

Unfortunately, I do not have as much energy as the last time, and end up reverting to my default form mid-flight. I crash onto the stone steps leading to the temple.

Groaning, I push myself to my feet and glance around, terrified I’ve caught Ares’ attention.

Worse, Aphrodite glances at me from the dining couch I sat in before. Up close, her beauty is almost overwhelming. Not like Hebe, who may not seem lovely at first glance. But on closer inspection, she has an understated beauty for anyone who cares enough to discover it.

There is no escaping Aphrodite’s comeliness, though. Silver ornaments adorn golden curls that brush across the ground every time she moves. Everything about her is feminine in a way I cannot quite put to words. It is almost obnoxious.

“Well, hello there.” Aphrodite purses her very full lips. “Have you come to join us at last, knowledge seeker?”

“Yes, actually.” I stand even though I feel like collapsing. “I had to delay for . . . reasons.”

Aphrodite sits up, the jewels draping from her wrists jingling with the movement. “You fell in love.”

I stumble in surprise. Is it that obvious? It’s bad enough that Hebe knows when she doesn’t requite me. But my enemies knowing is even worse.

When I lift my gaze, Aphrodite is holding a kylix toward me. “I can offer no relief, but take some ambrosia.”

“Thank you.” I throw it back, my power surging with the hope of it renewing.

When I place the empty kylix on the table, I find Aphrodite standing next to me. Her expression is uncharacteristically somber as she studies me.

“You understand now,” she whispers, placing graceful fingers on my forearm. “War may force us to fight, but love directs us to the cause we will champion.”

With that, she strides past me, moving toward the back gardens she frequents so often. Her pink peplos flutters with her graceful movements and cloud of floral perfumes lingers in her wake.

“You have come to join us?”

At the thundering voice, I whirl around to find Zeus standing before me at the entrance of the golden tower. His signature blue himation is draped over a golden chiton.

I nearly choke on the ambrosia I just drank, and then lean against the table, hoping I look casual. “I told you I was returning after I retrieved my property from Atum.”

Zeus narrows his eyes that seem strangely brown in this lighting.

“It barely survived your Fire demonstration,” I add, somehow keeping the bitterness out of my voice. “Quite a remarkable weapon you have. If I had not already set my heart on allying with you, I would have decided to do so the moment the world was engulfed by flames at your command.”

“Well, I am glad that you have come to your senses and chose my side after all this time.”

I pretend to be nonchalant, like I’m not terrified that Zeus will lash out for wasting his time like he doesn’t have an eternity ahead of him. I also have to act like I’m not worried that Hebe will come stumbling out with the urn of Fire. Where is she, anyway? Has she gotten caught in one of the traps without me to guide her?

“As I have told you before,” I say, rolling my eyes as an excuse to scan the perimeter, “I was just biding my time until I could ensure Atum’s Tablet of knowledge was useless in this fight.”

Except, it no longer is. It is the key to uniting Primordials and mortals forever. Hebe and I will be an eternal reminder of Atum’s dream realized too late.

“Very well.” Zeus doesn’t look convinced, but he gestures toward his table. “I have no time to play host to a mere Entity. There are more important concerns that I must address. Help yourself to the ambrosia and leave me in peace.”

“Happily,” I call, reaching for another kylix as Zeus turns away.

Instead of responding, he just strides into the golden tower.

I drain another kylix of ambrosia and then make my way to the silver tower. Surely, Hebe is clever enough not to have gone into one of the rooms I warned her against while I was disguised as the Nymph. But I can only hope that she’s in the silver tower and not the golden one.

My fear intensifies with every empty room I check and every trap I find still set. Where could Hebe be? Surely, she didn’t take an insect form that I might have stomped on by mistake—

“What do you think you are doing?!”

At Zeus’ booming voice, I whirl around just as a bolt of lightning illuminates his looming form. It’s bigger than a moment before, and his eyes are brighter. Power radiates from him.

Has something enraged him since last we spoke? Am I about to become the scapegoat for his anger?

Despite my terror, I casually lean against the doorway. “I was just trying to guess which chamber would be mine now.”

“Now?” Zeus arches one golden brow. “Have you finally decided that all your accounts with Atum are closed so you can belong solely to me?”

I open my mouth to point out that I already said as much, if not in so many words. But then a realization strikes me like one of Zeus’ thunderbolts.

Primordials can’t change their eyes, and Zeus’ are blue.

I know exactly where my wife is. And not only is she in grave danger, but also, she knows exactly what sort of man she wed.

Even if we both survive these next few moments, Hebe will never love me.