Page 6

Chapter Five

Prometheus

M y new bride’s eyes widen in surprise before narrowing.

“Do they just stare at each other silently all night?” I ask when Hebe still doesn’t respond.

“We sleep on opposite sides of the house,” she snaps. “It’s symbolic.”

I wait for her to add what it’s symbolic of, but she doesn’t seem to know either.

Since the silence is becoming suffocating, I shrug. “Well, our marriage has already met an obstacle, because I don’t sleep.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope.” I lean across the back of the dining couch, studying Hebe’s pinched face. “We Primordials— well, we Entities and all the Firstborns except one— are above such things. We are not confined by your mortal weaknesses.”

“You act like you are offended by such things.” Hebe drags her dark hair off her shoulder, and the smell of souring wine drifts toward me.

“There is a reason other Primordials want you exterminated. Your many vulnerabilities are obnoxious.” Of course, that’s only one reasons, but the last thing I intend to tell my latest nuisance is that mortals have discovered a way to kill Primordials. Ascendancy doesn’t seem to be common knowledge yet, and far be it from me to spread it around.

“You don’t like how we have to fight to live, so you seek our demise?”

“ I don’t.” I slide my hand over the smooth top of the dining couch as I close the distance between my new bride and myself. “Obviously, I’m on the side of the one Primordial advocating for your sake, or else I wouldn’t be married to you.” For the moment, at least, I’m on the mortals’ side.

Instead of shrinking away from my approach, Hebe stands her ground, even when I step close enough to be overcome by the stench of the wine souring on her skin. “I know that Atum is on the side of the mortals, and that you serve Atum, but that doesn’t mean you are for the mortals— at least in your heart.”

“My heart?” I snort. “There isn’t a single Primordial who has a heart except for Atum, who is the most mortal of us all.”

“No heart?” Confusion flashes across her face. “How is that possible?”

Before I can explain metaphorical speech to the savage, she presses her tiny hand against my chest. Her palm is warm through my chiton , and her fingers graze my collarbone.

“I feel a heartbeat.” Hebe looks up at me with a wrinkled brow.

“I meant that we Primordials have too much power to allow ourselves to be soft.” I step away from her touch that is certainly too soft. “You’ll understand soon enough if Atum’s experiment works and you inherit a portion of my Primordial birthright.”

“How will that work?”

“I have no idea. A Primordial has never taken a bride before— let alone a mortal one.”

Her mouth parts in surprise. “ None of you have wed before?”

I know mortals are rumored to have duller senses than we enjoy, but this one’s hearing is terrible . “Not a one. I delight in being at the frontlines of a new discovery, even if it unfortunately includes you .”

Instead of taking offense, Hebe rolls her eyes. “I didn’t exactly get the first fruit of the field either.”

My eyebrows lift in surprise at her audacity. Mayhap she isn’t the dullest of her people after all.

Stepping forward, I grasp Hebe’s jawline.

She gasps in surprise but doesn’t pull away as I twist her face to the left and then the right.

Hebe’s brows are thick and dark, like the ringlet curls falling around her face. They contrast her bright brown eyes. The rounded nose would be more aesthetic if it were angled, but mayhap Atum’s precious bonding process will give her some of my beauty as well as my power.

Not that it matters. Once I swear fealty to Zeus, I will no longer have to tow around a mortal bride. I don’t mind seeing what may come of this marriage until then for curiosity’s sake, but everyone knows a mortal’s first vows belong to Death.

And he is a jealous husband who will return for them in the end. I’d rather not be anywhere near Hebe when he does come. Hades can have her, but he certainly cannot have me .

Distance is especially important because of the reason this war began. A mortal terrified of Death’s approach sacrificed the Nymph, whose companion he had became, to Death in his stead. Now he has somehow stolen her immortality while her once-beautiful body decays.

I don’t agree with Zeus’ crueler methods—and his freakish menageries of strange beasts has always struck me as odd. But after the first Ascendant was forged from the death of a Primordial, we both think that mortals ought not run around slaying those meant to live forever.

Well, honestly, I just agree that Zeus shouldn’t be doing anything to hurt me , which is precisely what will happen if I do not swear fealty to him. I have to give some begrudging admiration to the first Ascendant for his ingenuity.

“If none of you have wed before,” Hebe whispers, her face still caught in my fingers, “how do we know anything about how this so-called bonding is supposed to go? We have only the marriages of these ‘Fae’ to guide us?”

“And a sacred text.” My hand drops to Hebe’s neck. There is a strange pulsing there, like a heartbeat. Do mortals have two heartbeats? Or are their hearts so strong it can be felt throughout their bodies? “Another Primordial— Hades— was gifted special knowledge from the Creator when he was reassigned to the newest realm— the Underworld.”

Hebe gasps and stumbles backward, out of my grip. “Surely, we’re not going there .”

“Oh, I’m never going down there again if I can help it. But another Entity loyal to Atum— Sia— is the Guardian of one of the entrances to the Underworld. He saw a very special Tablet and stole it. It’s stored at one of Atum’s temples. That is where we shall travel.”

And once I have that information, there is nothing more for Atum to teach me. There will be no further need for me to waste my eternity with him.

Especially with Zeus growing more powerful and bloodthirsty with every decade. It won’t be long before he starts directly targeting the Primordials who cross him. I do not want to be among their number when that time comes.

It’s not my fault that Atum has no wrath for me to fear or that he keeps spending all his strength to save mortals. He leaves nothing of himself to protect those of us with lives long enough to be worth preserving.

“Until then, Atum would have us honor every mortal marriage tradition in case it will help the bonding process be more effective.” I take several steps backward. “Thankfully, your tradition of wedding nights will not be difficult to fulfill.”

Hebe says nothing as I make my way to the ladder. There is likely nothing interesting above, but I cannot help but want to look.

Especially since Hebe remains below, and I fully intend to avoid her every moment I can. Especially until . . . “May I advise, my dearest wife, that you take this time to bathe? Otherwise, I’ll be forced to continue this tradition beyond our wedding night.”