My body jolted out of its own volition, and the previous night’s conversation echoed in my ears. Hera had made her opinion of Zeus and his allies abundantly clear. She wanted him gone, and she’d do whatever it took to make that happen. Apollo and Hephaestus insisted all the monarchs had loved Hestia, but what if Hera hadn’t loved her enough for it to override her hatred of Zeus?
It was the only thing that made sense. Hera had done this.
“This Titan filth came here and killed Hestia.” Zeus’s voice actually cracked when he spoke Hestia’s name.
Funny,I wouldn’t have expected him to care for anyone but himself.
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. Now put down the sword before you accidentally stab yourself with it,” Hera snapped.
“Don’t you tell me what to do. Hestia is dead, and—”
“Tire of her already, did you?”
A strange crackling sensation skittered across my skin. The pressure between my shoulder blades vanished, and an eerie silence pressed down on the room like a lead weight. Sensing Zeus had shifted his attention elsewhere, I slowly turned in place, careful not to move too quickly.
Zeus was staring Hera down. A long wooden sword shook in his hands, the hilt gilded in gold. His voice was dark and deep, the bottom edge of his bushy beard scratching his ruffles on his white shirt. “What I’ve tired of is you and your jealousy.”
Hera laughed. “Jealousy? Oh, you poor thing. I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot column.”
“My memories of you bouncing up and down on my cock say otherwise,” he said with a sneer.
Hera bristled. She stalked toward Zeus and flicked the end of his wooden sword with her sharp nail. “That was before I learned what a bastard you are. Now leave the neophyte alone. She hasn’t done anything.”
She sounded more certain of that fact than she should. I tried to catch Hera’s gaze, but she was too busy glaring at Zeus to notice. Had she truly done this? And if so, was it down to simple jealousy, or was this her first play in her game against Zeus?
As they stood there, glaring at each other, Artemis bustled into the room with an onyx urn and quickly gathered Hestia’s remains. When she was done, she gently placed it on the table. Everyone stood there staring at it for a good long while.
“All right, we can return to this later,” Zeus eventually said. “We have to go to the amphitheatre. Erebus is expecting us for the sacrifice.” He whirled back toward me and shoved a finger into my chest. “You doanythingI don’t like during the ceremony, Orpheus is dead. Do you understand me?”
I swallowed and nodded once. It was just as I’d suspected. They’d go after Orpheus, since they couldn’t retaliate against me.
“Good. When we’re done with the sacrifice, I’ll decide what to do with you.”
He tossed his sword, and Poseidon caught it before it hit the ground. Together, they strode out of the megaron, barking for everyone else to follow. Silently, I fell into step beside Apollo and Hephaestus, careful to keep some distance from Ares, who walked near the front with his head down.
I pondered my predicament. If I could get Orpheus out of here, I might be fine. As long as we were on this island, Zeus would have to stay his hand, or else it would ruin the sacrificial ceremony. He was clearly intent on doing whatever it took to make sure Nekros didn’t fail, and he seemed terrified of angering his god…I could use that to my advantage.
We weaved through the maze of corridors. Orange light splashed across our faces, cutting sharp edges even sharper. In the distance, the crash of thunder tore through the twilight, quickly followed by the crackle of lightning. The doors in the distance pulsed with the light, and cool air washed inside.
Dionysos appeared on my left, his head cocked. “Curious. Erebus doesn’t normally send storms during Nekros.”
Erebus was considered the god of night. He could control the skies once darkness washed away the sunlight.
“He won’t be happy about Hestia’s death,” Apollo said from my other side. “He was fond of her, just like we all were. If this sacrifice doesn’t go smoothly…”
“He’ll retaliate, even though she wasn’t one of the thirteen,” Dionysos finished for him.
A dark thought for a dark night. When we stepped out on the front steps, a tunnel of wind whorled around us, tossing my ginger hair into my face and whipping my gown against my legs. I tipped back my head to gaze up at the inky sky. There was no sign of stars, but a full moon blazed red behind the clouds.
Hephaestus let out a low whistle. “It’s a blood moon tonight.”
“Odd. It was a full moon just last night,” Dionysos said with a frown. “This, plus a storm? What is Erebus up to?”
An eerie chill caressed the back of my neck. The blood moon hung low overhead, and the soft slash of rain looked like droplets of blood. Fitting, I thought. It was as if the storm knew how this night would go, and it wanted to reflect the brutality back onto us.
Silently, I followed the Olympians down the hill toward the amphitheatre. The towering structure hunkered menacingly in the dark, the jagged wall rising and falling like a broken set of teeth. Centuries ago, these ruins loomed tall and pristine, the onyx stones polished daily. I’d heard you could even see your reflection in them.
That was before the Olympians had attacked this place. Circe had done her best to fight back, aided by Medea. Their magic, amplified by the power embedded in the soil here, had been too volatile to control. When they’d used it against Zeus, it had exploded into the amphitheatre. One side of the structure had almost completely crumbled while the other side lost chunks here and there along the top.
