4. Where The First Bullet Point Of The Plan Is Accomplished （And The Empress Finds it Satisfactory… And Hot…） #2
“Baby?” The woman next to him gave him a strange look and grabbed his muscled arm. The God of Thunder shook his head as if trying to come out of some kind of bewitchment. Sabine Goddard failed to hide a decidedly evil grin. Hera’s stomach clenched with acknowledgement.
Zeus finally clenched his fists and bellowed, ruining the moment. Obviously. “Ahem… I say… Hera! Was there not to be some kind of entertainment here tonight? Or is your dancing supposed to be it? I admit, we have all gotten a bit tired of that. It has been quite long after all…”
Nemesis’s eyes had gotten impossibly colder, shards of ice, sharp enough to cut.
She lifted Hera out of the dip and set her gently on her feet before letting her go.
Hera blew her bangs out of her face, missing the chill of those fingers, the strength of those arms, suddenly uncomfortable with being the center of attention.
Since when? Since when are you?
“I believe the poker tournament is about to start!”
Erato’s voice was loud, the bears proceeded to intone “Po-po-poker face!” along with the Muse, leading the way towards the side room and the club split into the dancing crowd who were not bothered by the exclusive tournament, the rich but not rich enough patrons who crowded in to observe and the richer than everyone else who got chips were seated by the reverential bears at their respective tables.
Hera exhaled. At least some things were still running well.
“Are you joining us, Your Majesty?”
Nemesis lifted her hand to her lips, and Hera felt the earlier heat slowly rise up her neck. She was grateful for the candlelight. A glass shattered in their proximity. Hera watched Zeus drop the pieces on the floor and blow on his fingers, blood marring her precious carpets.
“Are you playing then, Nemesis? Be ready to lose everything!” His voice was gruff, probably clouded by pain.
Before Hera could reach out and, out of sheer habit, heal his palm, Nemesis stepped closer to him, extending her hand, almost forcing him to shake it, her high boots stepping into the mess his blood was making on the floor.
Hera chose not to dwell on the symbolism.
“I’ll see you at the tables, old man.”
“How dare you—” Zeus yelped as Nemesis visibly squeezed his still bleeding palm.
Aphrodite bowed her head to hide a snicker. Sabine Goddard’s eyes were dancing with little devils. Hera found herself delighting a little at the Cupid’s reactions.
Nemesis sidestepped the God of Thunder, who hissed as her hand left his, and preceded the shortest bear to the poker tables, the smile on her face never wavering. Zeus cursed, grabbed Poseidon’s pocket square, nearly ripping it out of the blabbering fool’s jacket and followed, hot on her heels.
A few hours later, most of the tables had been cleared, as the patrons had either won, lost, or given up. Four of the big winners sat around the central table, the crowds surrounding them, packed like sardines.
“The minimal buy-in at this stage is a million dollars.” Hermes volunteered to run the game, and Hera was grateful. He always made it fun. And occasionally fair.
The first cards were dealt, despite the last participant’s chair still being empty. Hera looked around the room. Who was it?
Apollo, seated elegantly at the table, shook his long mane of hair and looked into his handheld mirror before picking up the cards.
“Whatever you say, Messenger. A million, or ten, nothing is a match for this coif.” Hermes rolled his eyes and looked to his right.
“Fine by me.”
Zeus’ voice was gleeful as he dropped a massive stack of chips on the table and took a long gulp from his bourbon glass. When he picked up his cards, his face lit up.
“Aphrodite?” Hermes pursed his lips at Zeus buying and bluffing his way through nearly every game and looked at the Goddess of Love, who was patting her stomach.
“Oh, of course. We wouldn’t miss this, right, little one?” The smile was too sweet, too fake.
“No magic, Dite.” Hermes attempted a stern voice. Aphrodite made an insulted face.
“As if I would cheat in a game like this!”
Hera almost laughed. They all would cheat in a game like this.
Any game, really. She flexed her fingers, feeling the undercurrent of being among tens of powerful beings.
Still, her own power prevented them from rigging the games.
Hence, Zeus dropping millions just to endure and survive round after round, the less rich players were thus discouraged from even trying to play.
Standing next to Hera, Erato snickered, whether at Dite trying to convince anyone of her sincerity or at something Hera chose not to dwell on—this was the Muse of Smut, Hades, well, Demeter, only knew what she could be laughing at.
Hera gave her a stern look, and the Muse lifted her hands, palms up.
“I’ll be good, I’ll be good. I’m just used to cheering during bloodbaths.”
Hera blinked. Bloodbaths? Then she turned as the fourth player made her presence known by pulling the chair out and sitting down. Nemesis nodded at Hermes and steepled her fingers in front of herself. She did not touch the cards.
Zeus growled. Apollo looked at the table uncomprehendingly.
“Isn’t this a little too rich for your blood, Revenge? You’re not exactly known for… possessions. Aiming a bit out of your league? Forgetting your station, lesser Goddess?”
The bears’ collective gasp was drowned by Zeus dropping his tumbler on the table, bourbon splashing over the rim. Hera did not bother with the cleanup. Something in Nemesis’s eyes left her motionless, trapped in her spot behind Aphrodite, watching both of them glare daggers at each other.
“Worry about your own finances, Zeus. Last I heard, you couldn’t even afford the payments on your yacht.”
Hera stilled. She knew this was not true, but it did suddenly bring the damn yacht front and center. Zeus predictably bristled.
“That yacht is my pride and joy, woman. Mind your business. And your game. You’re not known for being any good at games anyway.”
Nemesis’s face was full of confusion.
“Are you implying I’m not a good poker player?”
Zeus grinned.
“Too cold. Too risk-averse. So no, you’re not better than me.”
Aphrodite gripped the edge of the table. Erato clenched Hera’s fingers. Hera just watched the exchange as one watches a tennis match.