Chapter Four
I tighten my hands in Ajax’s mane. Rising out of the mist below us is a sight like no other. I have seen Mount Olympus once before—part of it, at least. It was the most arduous journey I have ever undertaken, and one I barely survived. No mortal is supposed to be able to scale those slopes and live to tell the tale. The mountainside was deep in an enchanted winter, but right at the peak, across the river that ringed the summit like a moat, I had a glimpse of a heavenly city, bathed in springtime. Eros says it is spring there eternally. I remember how its columns soared, its domes glistened, the dazzle of marble and gold. The very highest towers seemed built only of glass, winking and shimmering in a sunlight so pure, I could not focus on more than one tiny piece of it at a time.
Now approaching from above, it seems even bigger and more dazzling. I was in Corinth once as a girl, and thought it vast. I thought that to see Athens or Sparta would truly leave me speechless. How laughable all those mortal endeavors must be to this, the home of the gods. Under the dawn rays it sprawls, shimmers, mesmerizes. Not just an acropolis of towers and temples, but also fields and pastures, great rolling meadows of purest green.
But it is as dangerous as it is dazzling, and I know in my bones we should not be here.
No, Ajax , I think, as he begins to swoop downward, following Hermes’s path. But it’s no use, and the blood thumps in my skull as Ajax pitches downward. When I force myself to open my eyes, I see we’re not making for the center of the city, but more toward the outskirts. Olive groves: a haze of white and yellow trees in blossom. The wind whips my hair, stings my cheeks.
“Home sweet home,” Hermes smirks.
We shouldn’t be here, I think, as Ajax touches down.
*
The figure in the gardens wears a silver-gray chiton, and carries a basket over one arm. As she hears our approach she straightens and turns, and then there is no mistaking it, just as there is no mistaking any of the gods for anything less than they are. It’s in their stature, their bearing, their stride; in their face, their eyes, their unnerving beauty. But more than all of that, it’s something in the air around them, an energy that pulses and radiates. Something that makes it hard not to bow one’s head, drop one’s gaze, bend one’s knee to the ground.
But my days of bending the knee are over. As far as I’m concerned, gods are simply kings by another name—and I have never yet met a king who did not abuse his power.
“Well, well. Aphrodite’s errant son.” Athena turns a cool, silvery gaze on us as we dismount. “And his mortal consort.”
The blood rushes to my face. I realize I’ve been half-hiding behind Eros, and I make myself step away a little, and stand more firmly.
“You look terrible, cousin.” She fixes her gaze on Eros. “I had expected to see you diminished. And yet I had not thought the effect would be so marked.”
I can feel Eros beside me, his mixture of anger and shame. It seems the goddess is blunt in her words.
“I thought the same,” Hermes observes. “Just because he’s consorting with a mortal, doesn’t mean he has to look like one.”
“He’s not consorting with me.” I find my voice. “I am his wife.”
“Wife?” Hermes sounds amused. “ I was not invited to the ceremony.”
I glare at him.
“We were wed under the Old Laws.”
“Good for you.” Hermes smirks again. Athena makes an impatient noise.
“Enough, Hermes. We have other matters to discuss.” She gestures to a small ring of stone seats, nestled in the ground under the shade of the olive trees. “Sit, cousins.” She turns to me. “The three of us must speak a while. Wander the orchards if you like, but do not go far.”
Eros shakes his head.
“Whatever it is you wish to discuss, you may discuss in front of us both.”
Athena looks at him.
“These are the affairs of the gods.”
“She is my wife. She will know what I know.”
I feel a small flame of satisfaction from Eros’s words. Hermes raises his eyebrows, looking from one of us to the other. He plucks an olive from the tree above, and drops it in his mouth. Trees that fruit and flower at the same time: we are in a god’s garden, to be sure. Another moment passes, and Athena shrugs, and throws a grudging look my way.
“Sit, then. All of you.”
I remember how unsurprised she was to see us. She and Hermes have been conspiring to bring us here, it seems. But to what end?
“It’s your brother,” Athena says flatly, and her clear grey eyes find Eros’s.
“Deimos? Tonight’s attack—was that him?”
Athena and Hermes glance at each other.
“We cannot be sure. But it seems likely. They say he is building a following in many places—pockets of lawless men, gangs that come from nowhere, and chaos follows in their wake. These followers have sprung up in many places,” Athena frowns. “But we suspect that bloodshed and pillaging are not their only motive.”
He’s been looking for us.
“But what happened in Thasos tonight is not our main concern,” Athena goes on. She fixes her gaze on Eros. “Hermes has told you of your brother’s doings. You know he has stolen the First Blade.”
Eros nods. I see the shadows in his eyes, the thoughts flickering.
“Zeus is furious, but he will not leave Olympus undefended in order to track down Deimos,” Athena continues. “Some other god must do the job.”
“Ares,” Hermes jumps in, “has volunteered. After all, Zeus seems to hold him accountable for his son’s actions. He stands to face a terrible punishment on Deimos’s behalf. Only a great show of loyalty will restore him in Zeus’s eyes.”
I suppose it is not a surprise that Ares has taken Zeus’s side over his son’s. Stealing the blade was a rash act; Deimos cannot have expected his parents to voice support for him. But as I look at Eros’s face, I feel a piercing sense of unease. There’s more. He’s hearing something they’re not saying.
“You want me to join my father on the hunt.”
Athena and Hermes glance at each other, and I feel my heart contract.
“You can’t! You’re the one Deimos wants dead.” I turn to the others. “It would be madness to send him on such a mission.”
Athena looks Eros in the eye. “And yet, your father has asked for you by name.”
“And Zeus will certainly reward you,” Hermes adds, “if you restore his knife to him.”
Athena sees my horrified face, but still she shows no shame at what she’s proposing.
“If Deimos really is after you, then having you on our side will help to draw him out,” she says. “Remember, you are vulnerable either way. If you keep hiding, Deimos may still track you down. But if you volunteer, you will have your father at your side, and he will do all he can to protect you. What’s more, you will be in Zeus’s highest favor. That is what you have wanted, is it not? An alliance with Olympus? To have your trespasses forgotten; to be back in favor, your worshippers restored?”
Eros frowns. My heart quickens.
“But not at such a price,” I say. “Don’t you understand? With that blade in Deimos’s hands, Eros might as well be mortal.” I remember Deimos’s bloodshot eyes; that keen, merciless fury. “Besides…you are not as strong as you were.” It’s an understatement, and he knows it. “You’re in no fit state to go on such a mission.”
Athena sighs. She barely bothers to glance at me.
“Once Ares’s followers hear you ride at his side, they will extend their worship to you, too.” She looks at Eros. “And any man you ride with in battle will pray to you. Your strength will grow again, and fast.”
I can feel Eros’s hesitation. I want to force him to look at me, to tune out any voice but mine. How can he let himself be tempted by these promises, when he knows what could happen?
“Tell me you’re not considering this,” I plead. He raises his bright eyes to mine.
“But don’t you see, Psyche?” A deep furrow carves across his brow. “He was already close to finding us. He will try again, and again.” He looks at me. “We will never be safe from him. You will never be safe from him. This way,” he continues, “at least I will have Olympus’s might behind me. I will have the best of its armor, and the protection of my father’s sword. What protection will we have if we live as fugitives?” He sighs. “It is as you said, Psyche. While he holds that blade, I am little better than a mortal. What protection can I offer you then? But this way, if we succeed, we can be free of Deimos for good.”
“And if you fail-” my voice quivers.
“We will not,” he says. I stare at his face, so reasonable, so unemotional. He is brave, I know that. But today, I wish he were not quite so brave.
“Besides,” he looks at Athena. “You have something else to offer me, don’t you? In exchange for my service.” His eyes drift to me, and Athena’s gaze follows. She nods.
“In exchange for your service, we undertake to keep Psyche here on Olympus.”
I stare back. How is that a boon? Olympus is the last place I want to be.
“It is where you will be safest,” Athena says. “Deimos will not come looking for you here. And if he did, I would be sworn to protect you.”
“No,” I say. “Eros, no . I do not wish to be hidden away here, while you run off to risk your life. I’m not staying here without you!” I hear my voice rising as I lose my composure. That is a disadvantage: Eros always keeps his cool, and by the look on Athena’s and Hermes’s faces, I think it runs in the family. But I want to stamp my foot, I want to scream and rage. I cannot abide their cool logic, the bloodless words, how they weigh the prospect of my husband’s death as though it were just another bead on the abacus.
Athena looks at Eros. “Does she always argue like this?”
He turns to me, and just for a moment, his eyes show a ghost of a smile.
“Always.”
I set my jaw. Yes, I’m stubborn, and it’s why I’m still alive. He should know—he’s just the same.
Eros sighs, and puts his hand on mine.
“I’m sorry, Psyche. But better risk my life than both of ours.”
My throat closes; I feel my heart fluttering as I look around at them, the trio of gods who think they know better than me. I have been cooped up in a god’s great palace before—and no matter how sumptuous it was, no matter how many times I was told it was for my “protection,” a cage is still a cage.
“You cannot make me stay,” I say. And yet the words feel hollow on my tongue.
Because I know they can.