“No. I won’t have anyone going near her. We will sacrifice another,” Zeus argued.
“It’s too late for that. You and Ares are the only two left who need to drink, and Selene here has done you a great favor.” Athena snapped her fingers, never taking her eyes on Zeus’s face or her other hand off the hilt of her sword.
I passed the other monarchs and pressed the chalice into her hand. She held it up before her, and the light of the blood moon speared the clouds for just long enough to illuminate the bright, angry red inside it.
Zeus curled back his lips, exposing his fangs. “I swear to Erebus, I will kill her for this.”
“You best rethink those words unless you want to doom all the rest of us.” Athena held out the vial. “Now drink.”
Someone was watching me. The weight of a stare pressed heavily on me, and I turned to find Ares more focused on me than the blood painting the ground, or Zeus’s barely contained rage, or the way Hera was still smiling at Zeus. Triumphantly.
When she’d first told me her plan, I thought she’d had a scheme in mind, a real way to change things. And she’d hurt him, yes. She’d taken the sharpest sword she could find and she’d shoved it right through the heart of him. But she’d chosen the wrong weapon. A sword—no matter how sharp, no matter how large—couldn’t kill him. He would knit himself back together. And he would make her pay for what she’d done.
And in doing so, he would cut the tattered ribbons of peace. He would defy his god’s orders. And then…well, I didn’t know what would happen then, and I didn’t want to find out.
As Ares met my gaze, I swore he could read all this in my eyes. Because he gave me a grim nod, confirming his thoughts echoed mine.
As if we were somehow on the same side.
Instead of telling me an Olympian wanted me dead—which I’d already known—I wished the Fates had told me aboutthis—that my enemy might one day be my greatest ally, at least when it came to protecting the future of the vampires.
Zeus snatched the chalice out of Athena’s hands and tipped it back. Blood smeared across his lips. He grimaced, then passed it to Ares. Only then did Ares take his eyes off my face. After taking the drink, he set the chalice down and looked to Athena for insight on what to do next, how to handle the return trek to the palace.
How to handle Zeus.
“All right. Very good.” She nodded, her voice firm. “After the events of the past few days, I think it’s time we held a meeting to…discuss how we plan to proceed. We still have eleven sacrifices ahead of us. Eleven days where wemustmake peace, as difficult as that may seem right now. Erebus made his rules for our dominion clear. If we wish to continue to reign upon this world, wielding the power that we do, Nekros must succeed no matter what. We mustfinishthis.”
Zeus grunted. He turned, gazing at the cloud-studded sky above, like the hidden blood moon held the answers to everything he wanted to know—questions we all had. Hera had brought Zeus’s lover to the island as her sacrifice. There were no rules against that. No commandments from their god. And she had boldly owned it. So where did that leave Hestia? Could Hera have truly targeted her, too? And was she my attacker from the storm?
When Zeus remained silent, Athena nodded, taking that as encouragement to proceed. She went to the front of the gathered monarchs and motioned for us to follow her out of the amphitheatre, leaving the poor sacrificed mortal bloodied and broken on the ground. Zeus’s steps were heavy, but he followed her all the same.
And a thought occurred to me: Athena was so much more suited to lead the Olympians than Zeus. Her power was understated and controlled. The others listened to her—respected her. She didn’t have to bellow and roar to get them to listen to her. They just…did.
Even Zeus.
Twelve of us started across the mossy ground. We’d made it halfway to the wall when Hera cleared her throat from where she’d remained, standing firm in the shadow of Erebus.
“That’s it, Zeus? She truly must have meant nothing to you for you to walk away so easily. You’ve always been such a heartless bastard, and I’m glad the others finally see it, too.”
Zeus froze. I slowed and shifted to the side, out of the way. Artemis trotted up to him and whispered something in his ear, placing a gentle hand on his arm. But he shook her off, like she was nothing more than a pesky bee who’d flown far too close.
Athena started back across the muddy ground, her eyes pinned on Hera’s face. Her ebony cloak rippled behind her as she walked, dancing in the growing wind. A crash sounded—a thunderous boom. I jumped at the suddenness of the sound—the closeness of it. A cloud of mist rushed in, and a sheen of gray smudged the world, sucking the color out of everything.
I frowned up. Nothing about this was normal. Tonight’s sudden storm, and the one from yesterday. Erebus was watching, listening. And he was growing angrier by the day.
“You must stop this,” Athena hissed when she reached Hera. She snatched the monarch’s arm and tried to drag her away, but Hera was as immovable as that statue. “You fool! Don’t you see the sky? If you don’t stop, you’re going to ruin it for Zeus, yes, but you’re going to ruin it for all the rest of us, too. And whileImight not matter to you, I know you still hold some love in your heart for Dionysos and Aphrodite, at least.”
Hera merely shook her head. “Don’t you see the vampire you serve? For fuck’s sake, he doesn’t care aboutanyoneat all. Just himself. Something has to change, Athena. But nothing ever will until we take a stand against him in the eyes of our god.” She motioned at the amphitheatre’s crumbling walls, at the statue, at the sky. “Here and now, this is the best place to reveal Zeus for what he is.And I have.”
Zeus laughed. He tipped back his head, and booming laughter erupted from his chest. He continued on for what felt like an eternity. I shifted further away from him, as did the others, until he was left alone in the middle of our circle, glaring at Hera across the moss-drenched arena.
His laughter finally stilled. Then he said, “Very well, Hera. In the eyes of our god, I, the Archon of Olympians, hereby demand you endure a trial. Here and now, just as you wish. You are accused of the murder of Hestia, the protected advisor of High King Ares. And if you are found guilty of this crime, your sentence will be death.”
22
SELENE
For a long moment, no one spoke. I wasn’t sure if it was shock or fear—perhaps a little of both. In all the recorded history of the Olympians, nothing like this had ever happened. For nearly two hundred years, they’d kept their pact with each other. They played their political games, yes. And they bickered and fought. They sometimes targeted someone special to make a statement. Just like Hera had done now.
