When Hera returned to Olympus, she bathed in water scattered with rose petals, had her nymphs massage her skin and hair with scented oils, then donned her finest imperial purple gown. She finished her masterpiece by placing her golden sun crown upon her shining curls, then looked at the nymph waiting by her dressing table.
‘I am ready. Take me to him.’
By the time they’d reached the cherrywood door in thesouthern quarter of the palace, Hera’s fingers had tightened into fists. Something inside her knew he would be here. Despite the danger closing in around them, and most of his children being scattered throughout Greece searching for the Titan girl, it all came back to this.
She nodded at the nymph, and the woman opened the door.
The room smelt sweet, like honey. Sunlight poured in from a round window hollowed into the apex of the brightly patterned ceiling, shining on a floor lined with colourful cushions. The muscles in Hera’s neck tightened at the sight of the murals painted across the circular walls: Heracles decapitating the many-headed Hydra, Perseus saving the princess Andromeda from the jaws of the great sea-monster Cetus.
Marble pillars guarded these scenes, between which nymphs in pale-blue tunics stood vigil over two figures in the centre of the chamber.
Cheeks flushed, Hera dragged her gaze to the centre of the room.
Zeus lay across the cushions, reclining on his elbow. A child of around three years sat before him, playing with the fringe of a crimson cushion. The boy’s auburn hair curled around his ears, his olive skin was lightly freckled, and his eyes were wide pools of cerulean.
Zeus always claimed the children he had brought to Olympus were cast in his image, but Hera could only ever see their mortal mothers.
Her husband looked up at her. ‘You never come here.’
‘I have news.’
Zeus’ gaze flicked to the nymphs.
‘Leave us.’
As one, they rippled from the chamber, their footsteps echoing off the marble walls.
The child watched them go, then his ocean-blue eyes fixedon Hera. His lip trembled. He crawled towards Zeus, nestling into the crook of his torso. Gently, the King of the Gods nudged him to standing.
‘This is Hera, the Queen of Heaven. You must bow before her.’
The boy blinked, looked once more at Zeus then clumsily bowed, before burying his face in Zeus’ chest.
‘She scares me,’ the child mumbled.
Zeus laughed.
The warmth in his face almost shattered Hera.
‘Has he shown any indication of powers yet?’
Zeus’ brow darkened. A rod of satisfaction pierced her spine. It was petty of her, but wounding her husband was so tempting when every breath she took in this child’s presence was an insult.
‘He is still young. I have several new methods yet untested.’
She wanted to scream at him, demand to know how he could, after all these failed attempts, still labour under the delusion that he could pass on his powers to a mortal son.
‘You have seven divine children,’ she spat. ‘Why is that not enough?’
Zeus rose to his feet. ‘Because, wife, as I have told you before, their powers do not come from me. The Hesperides tree still holds the secret to what we are. It is the last hurdle to cementing our divinity. The Mother’s final yoke around my neck.’
‘Really?’ her voice quivered, low and dangerous. ‘Or is it that there are no more apples for you to give?’ Outside, a cloud drifted above the window, and the light dimmed. She shivered, ready for the violence she always waited for. ‘Gold that grows bears no fruit …You may keep the tree hidden, but you cannot hide the truth from me. It has been centuries since you gave Hermes his apple. It was rotting, its gold dull.I always wondered why you made him divine at such a young age … It was the last fruit the tree bore, wasn’t it?’
She tensed, waiting for the inevitable explosion.
Zeus stared at her then lowered his gaze to the child. He reached out to brush a curl from the boy’s forehead. ‘You came with news.’
Hera sagged, steadying herself against a pillar.
