Bel half grimaced. “I’m pretty violent.”
“I saidindiscriminately.” He glanced behind them to make sure the soldiers were keeping up. “Think back to when I met you. You and Cat were the only two Magoi royals left in Thalyria who could’ve truly vied for control of the continent. Between the two of you, you could’ve left the land in ruins in the pursuit of power. Instead, Bellanca Tarva helped Catalia Fisa make a difference.”
Bel kept her wary eyes on the horizon. “And?”
Carver leaped the rivulet running toward the sea which marked the lowest point of the valley. Bel sprang across it just after him, and their boots squished in the muddy grass as they headed toward the hill that would take them back to Atlantapol. “Atlantis is a mission for you, but it’s also a reward. You served Zeus well in Thalyria, but you had no place deserving of you there. You’re meant to be a queen, so he gave you a kingdom.”
Bel visibly shivered, goose bumps popping out on her arms. “Maybe.” She burned a little brighter to chase away the chill. “He just didn’t count on Hera and her schemes.”
“No.” His mouth flattened. “He counted on gaining the gratitude of Atlantians to dominate in this War of Gods.”
“And will he?” The strong, resounding voice crashed over them just before Hera split the air above, appearing from out of nowhere.
Carver sucked in a breath, his heart kicking like a horse as the goddess dropped on a fast wind. She landed in a crouch, one hand on the ground, a wave of power flattening the grass. She straightened to her full height, and the wind suddenly died, leaving an echoing silence. The air grew thick and heavy with her presence. Just steps away, Hera stared at them, shimmering with magic, with stern beauty, with rage and determination.
Her cold eyes flicked over their small army, then she looked straight at Bellanca. “Decision time, Firebringer.”
Bel stared back. Carver’s heart pounded. Awe and fear rose in equal measures, but so did anger. He used to believe in Hera’s compassion, grateful for the strong and healthy family he’d always known. His parents’ happy marriage. His mother’s ease in childbirth. Now he looked at Hera and saw an imposter, and she’d failed Atlantians worst of all.
Fire snapped in Bel’s hair and slid down her arms. Sheburned, though her words came out ice-cold. “Hera. We meet again.”
The Shard of Olympus pulsed with glacial light, drawing the goddess’s hard, blue gaze. “Zeus risked bringing and keeping soulmates together. He must’ve counted on reaping a great reward, although I’m not sure any of us foresaw it playing out in Atlantis.”
“The Fates are tricky sometimes.” Flames engulfed Bel’s hands—so hot the air around her wavered.
“They answer to no one. I used to think it kept an eternal existence interesting.”
“And now?” Bel ground out.
“Now I make my own fate.” Hera’s frigid smile contrasted sharply with Bel’s searing heat. “Starting with Atlantis.”
Bel didn’t answer, and Carver looked over his shoulder. The soldiers huddled together, awestruck terror on every face.
He turned back around, dread hollowing his stomach.
The goddess stepped closer. “The two of you look so frightened. But why?” Flinty confidence glinted in her eyes. “The choice is simple. End Punishment in my name, save Cleito, and live happily in your castle. My offer is good.”
Heartache and fury bled across Bel’s features, mottling her pale face with splotches of red. “You could’ve had my sympathy, my support, and you squandered it with curses and threats, with kidnappings and not caring who you hurt.”
Hera’s countenance darkened, sucking the light from around her and leaving a shadow that nearly reached their feet. “Tread carefully, Firebringer. Think before you speak.”
“I have thought.” Bel lifted her chin. “My duty is to humanity. So is yours, but you seem to have forgotten it.”
Hera stiffened. Her face pinched, and she blinked rapidly, a low growl on her lips.
“You can still stop this from getting any worse.” Carver drew Hera’s attention, though her angry stare didn’t quite land on him at first. “You’re powerful. Revered. Having the highest throne on the mountaintop doesn’t change how many people worship you. Answering their prayers does, being there for them.”
The goddess’s gaze sharpened, her dark energy focusing on him. “This isn’t about humans; it’s about me.I’llcontrol my immortal life.I’lldecide what I do, with whom, and when. I’ll answer to no one.”
“That can never be true,” Bel shot back. “Hera—goddess of women and families. Don’t you answer tothem?”
Hera’s gaze went abruptly vacant again. A snarl and a shake of her head was her only response, but power and anger condensed around them, hanging in the air like a blanket of doom. In response, Bel gathered magic to her like a storm. Her amulet brightened, and Carver felt its primal force thump under his tattoo.
Foreboding filled him, battle so close its impending violence screamed a soundless warning in his ears. “Zeus is ever watchful. Over his worlds, over Mount Olympus, over mortals, monsters, and gods. Do you really want that burden? Capturing his throne might take more freedom from you than you gain.”
Hera’s eyes flicked over him, heavy with scorn. “Does the third son in line to a village farm lecture an immortal queen on the onus of ruling worlds?”
Carver snapped his mouth shut. Heat crawled up his neck, and he steadied his sword. “Then whatwouldyou do with the high throne of Mount Olympus?”
