Burrowing her gloved fingers into its milky hair, she supposed she should give it a name.
“I don’t know where we’re going, Hylas. But I’m going to find out.”
Seek out Metis, fulfill your destiny.
She knew she should listen to the voice, that her fate was tied to the destruction of the gods. But after Prometheus’s claim, the idea that Alea’s soul was not in the Underworld threatened to tear her apart.
She had to know.
There was only one way to find out for sure if Alea’s ghost was in the Asphodel Meadows. She would have to go to the Underworld. She had no idea if it was even possible for the living to visit the realm of the dead. But she had to try.
Then, once she found Alea and knew her sister’s soul was at peace, she would go to Delos.
She took a deep breath of frozen air, then gave Hylas a kick and clung on as the horse beat its snowy wings, carrying her up through beams of sunlight, beyond the clouds.
Destiny could wait, she was going to find her sister.
Epilogue
Olympus
The winged horse landed on the balcony, its hooves scraping across the polished marble as it skidded to a halt. The rider slid from its back and clattered to the ground.
A cloud of nymphs, the Twelve’s mortal servants, ran forward, twittering with concern. Their gossamer dresses billowed as they reached out and hauled Hera to her feet.
“You’re hurt!”
“My Queen, who has done this?”
“Come inside, we will tend to you.”
A gauntleted hand shot out and grabbed one of the nymphs by the neck. The girl’s eyes bulged as her twitching feet left the floor. Hera drew a deep breath, then sighed as the girl’s life-threads rushed into her body. She cracked her neck and dropped the dead nymph, the pain in her bruised limbs melting away as she stalked inside.
She unfastened her snow-soaked cloak and let it slide to the patterned topaz floor. A nymph darted forward and picked it up, before scuttling out of reach.
Hera removed her helm and appraised her reflection in an ornate mirror that spanned the entire wall. The remnants of a cut were still fading above one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. She smoothed her black curls. One of the golden strands that wove through her hair stuck up at an unpleasing angle. Despite her efforts, she couldn’t bend it to her will.
She pressed her full lips together. Normally, she would never leave her chambers in such a state, but the events of this day were unprecedented.
“Where is my husband?”
The nymphs exchanged furtive glances behind her back. Pathetic creatures.
“The King of Heaven is in the throne room...”
She could sense a “but.” He was with that boy again.
“Say it.”
Two girls pushed a third forward. The nymph quaked.
“He said he’s not to be disturbed.”
She flinched as Hera shoved the helm into her trembling hands. Then the Queen of Heaven strode out through the open doors.
Hera paced down the corridor, the clink of her armor echoing off the marble columns. The wall mosaics changed as she passed, her presence triggering them to swirl into a different pattern. You could tell which deity had last walked by depending on the scene depicted by the tiny pieces of precious stone. They always clustered to show a triumphant frieze from the present god’s life. Her son, Hephaestus, had designed it to honor their family, he’d said. She thought it was so he could keep track of them.
The current mosaic showed Hera lifting an infant Ares into the air, the sun shining behind them like his birth had brought forth the dawn. Hera didn’t bother to look at it. After hundreds of years of walking down this hall, she knew the placement of every gem.
