“No?” I felt a caress of soft wind as he closed the distance between us. “You seemed to have plenty of questions in your eyes only a moment ago.”
“Questions for you? No. Now leave me in peace.”
Pulling a breath into my lungs, I started off down the corridor, but Ares grabbed my arm before I was even a footstep away from him. His hand tightened around me, holding me in place. With a frustrated grunt, I tried to pull away from him, but his fingers were like a vise.
I whirled on him, glaring. The earlier blood sang in my veins, and an intoxicating ache shot through my canines. My tightly held control snapped. Lips curled back, I showed my enemy the glint of my sharp teeth, daring him to attack me.
Ares scowled right back. “I see the truth in you, Selene. You aren’t as perfectly composed as you want everyone to believe.”
I twisted my hand so that my fingers grasped his wrist, just as his grasped mine. Before he could react, I tugged him closer. And since he clearly underestimated me—most did—it worked. He lurched forward a step, which brought his face within an inch of mine. Curly silver hair tumbled into his burning eyes, and his breath was hot on my skin. It smelled like blood.
“Unless you’ve followed me out here to fight, release me,” I said.
“And what if Ihavefollowed you to fight? Hestia deserves the thirteenth crown, not you.”
“Go on then, Ares,” I hissed up at him. “Take your wooden dagger and stab me in the heart.”
“Oh, if only I could.” He tilted his head, brought his lips close to my ear, and whispered, “Didn’t you hear what Demeter said? A Titan must always wear the crown of Troy, and you’re the only Titan left. Or do I have that wrong?”
Heat bled into my cheeks. Ares was playing with me, and I didn’t enjoy feeling like a doll. With my free hand, I gripped his arm and ripped my other one free, stumbling away from him while my heart pounded my ribs. The top of his white shirt fell open, where he hadn’t bothered to button it past his naval, and the edge of a tattoo peeked out from behind the ruffles.
Curious, I stared. It was notoriously difficult for vampires to keep tattoos. With our fast healing, our bodies usually rejected the ink before it could fully take, the black oozing from our pores like blood. Two dark lines swirled toward his neck, curling like the wisps of flicking torchlight.
Ares tugged on the edge of his shirt, and the tattoo slid out of sight.
“How did you get that?” I couldn’t help but ask.
His lips curled. “Share your secrets with me, and I’ll share mine.”
Tensing, my eyes darted toward the megaron doors. They were still open, spilling light and music down the corridor. Nearly drowning out the melancholy strings was raucous male laughter. Coming from Zeus, no doubt. Even with his keen vampiric hearing, he’d never hear this conversation because of his own bloody noise.
“I’ll never share anything with you, Ares, least of all my secrets.” Now free from his grip, I stepped back and put ample space between us. He watched my every step with hawkish eyes, his body coiling like he was ready to pounce. A gleam of hunger lit his crimson eyes. I kept walking backward, facing him. Only when I reached the far end of the corridor did I dare turn my back on him.
As I twisted away, Zeus’s thunderous voice echoed down the hall. “Ares, get back in here. We’re having another drink! I want to hear that story again. You know the one.”
I paused, arching a brow, and whispered my words just loud enough for Ares to hear. “Go on, be a good boy. Your master is calling.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, my stomach turned. I’d let Ares get under my skin. All the preparation, all of Orpheus’s advice and lessons, all the things my mother had taught me about survival in this brutal world. I’d forgotten it all, even if only for a brief moment.
I expected Ares to punish me with a knowing smirk. He’d been trying to get a rise out of me, and he’d won. But instead, his gaze grew distant. Frowning, he looked over his shoulder and then turned without a word. No jabs. No taunts. No victorious smiles.
He walked away, heading back inside the megaron. I was left alone in the corridor—at long last. A line of torches lit up down the corridor to the right, leading into a tunnel of darkness. I had no idea where my rooms might be, but I didn’t want to stay near the megaron any longer, just in case Zeus called for me next. And so I took off down the hall, following the path of light.
12
SELENE
The torches led me through the palace maze. I turned down one corridor, then the next. I went up a carpeted flight of stairs, curving bannisters engulfed in cobwebs and dust. When the torches led me past furniture hidden beneath faded black sheets, I began to wonder if they were playing a little trick on me. Another game built by the Olympians to make my time here as miserable as possible.
But then they flared, bright and hot, outside a seemingly innocuous door just past the covered furniture. When I drifted past it, the torches on the other side of the door remained off. Seemed like a fairly good sign. I stopped, tried the knob. The door creaked as it swung inward.
When I stepped inside the room, a few candles flamed to life, spilling pale orange light across a marble floor and a velvet settee swallowed by a mound of black pillows. My wooden trunks packed with my crown and my clothes were lined up beside the door, waiting for me. Gold-lined portraits of the Olympians adorned the walls—one of Zeus, slightly higher than the others. His crimson eyes seemed to burn through the canvas.
With a shudder, I turned. A columned archway led to another room, where a four-poster bed backed up to a wall dripping in thorny vines. Beyond it, curtains fluttered in the wind. The floor-to-ceiling window had been left open, leading to a balcony with a view of the indigo sky. Sunrise would arrive soon.
The rustle of wings drew my attention. I rushed toward the balcony, my heart lifting, and a small black bird soared through the open window. My raven curled his talons and settled on my shoulder. When I felt the familiar weight of them there, I crumpled onto the edge of the bed, nearly sobbing from relief.
Hector was a steadying presence, an anchor amidst a barrage of new scents, new sounds, and new faces that belonged to vicious kings and queens playing a game I knew I did not fully understand. Back in Troy, I’d never gone anywhere without him. To be apart for even a few hours had felt torturous. Nearly as torturous as not shoving a wooden blade into Zeus’s black heart the moment I’d laid eyes on him.
