“Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you, but you’re five foot nothing,” Lucian drawled. “You never had an edge.”
“Five footone.” I huffed. “And I remember actually making you work for it when we fought, oh great dark sorcerer.”
“I’d drained myself of most of my power, already fought my brother, and the only thing you actually managed to defeat was a tray of roast potatoes.” He paused, tilting his head. “Which was a tragedy. I haven’t made you pay for those yet.”
Kleos sank onto his lap. “You’re not adding Silver to your list of feuds because of roast potatoes. You like Silver.”
I was fairly certain that Kleos was the only person in the universe capable of making his face soften into apout.
My hearing caught approaching footsteps, and I made myself stand. “Well, lovely to see you guys, but I’d better get going.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lucian drawled. “You’re staying for dinner.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but he played a dirty game.
“Homemade pasta. The truffle sauce is quite literally out of this world. I get them imported from the fae realm.”
I was no fool, so I sat back, grumbling something about having to feed Amavi.
Lucian scoffed. “We have a demon and an angelic fox in the manor already; you really think we aren’t prepared for another set of fangs?”
He proceeded to prepare bowls for all three critters. By the looks of it, he fed Zazel fresh tuna, and Phobos, a mixture of freshly cooked vegetables and raw steak. The third bowl he found was made of pure gold, and encrusted with pearls. Apparently, that was the kind of thing gathering dust at the back of the Regis cupboards.
“You’re going to spoil her,” I said as Amavi cheerfully jumped off my lap to wobble-hop where he put it down for her. “I don’t even eat that well.”
“You can afford to now,” Kleos reminded me.
Our afternoon trip to the bank hit again. I had a brand-new, freshly printed pure gold card and checkbook in my wallet, and the banker informed me that a thousand golds per week would be delivered to me for daily expenditures. That was the policy for clients with a balance like mine. I could refuse the allowance or return whatever I didn’t spend at the end of the month, but the banker shrugged and informed me that this was just part of the interest I earned and wouldn’t in any way affect the extent of my vault.
“It’s the bank’s policy to invest ten percent of its long-term holdings—unless the client wishes otherwise, naturally. Your account makes gold every day.”
I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I would never have to worry about money again. I could catch a plane to the Champs-Élysées and shop in Chanel rather than buying vintages on eBay. I could quit the Guard and be a woman of leisure.
I had no desire to do that. Either because being a protector was my vocation, or because it truly belonged to me, was earned by me, Edith Silver—not Artemis. I still didn’t understand what it meant to have an ancient goddess’s power inside me. Whenever I dreamed of long-past lands, people, the echoes of wars and hunts, it felt removed from me, like watching a movie I couldn’t fully make sense of.
“It’s weird,” I admitted with a wince. “The vault, the gold, all of it.”
“But not the hellhound or the arrows?”
I wrinkled my nose. While I’d been confused enough about having a third account, all surprise disappeared the moment I entered the safe.
Bloody Apollo. I had no idea what game he was playing, but I knew, to my marrow, that this was exactly his style. Moving in the shadows, leaving gifts and curses alike. He was a schemer to the core.
“No doubt there’s a reason, and we’ll find out soon enough. I’m not worried about Apollo.”
Cas was another story entirely.
Kleos shivered. “You’re literally insane.”
I remembered that in the cave near Delphi, she’d had a healthy amount of fear for the god. I hadn’t, even from our first meeting. She’d thought that made me completely reckless at the time, but I was no Gideon. I’d felt a healthy dose of terror of Python just before. Later, I was bloody petrified by Zeus and the other Olympians, with good reason. But Apollo never scared me, even when I caught the flame in his eyes when he wanted to be dramatic.
“And the sky’s blue,” a voice boomed, seconds before literal sunshine entered the room.
I groaned, averting my eyes.
Lucian had to turn, visibly recoiling at the golden aura surrounding Gideon. “Keep it down in my house, you lunatic!”
“Sorry, sorry.” The brightness dimmed, though he remained rather shimmery. “I don’t control it well yet.”
