16. Hera’s Will
Hera’s Will
Andie & Alexander
A collar. Danae’s grand plan to help me was a collar. If it had come from anyone else, I’d have refused it. But as it was…
“I promise you, Andie, this isn’t meant to enslave you. You know I’d never do that.”
“Why not? Maybe I deserve it. For everything I said and did.”
Danae sat on the edge of my bed, the case containing the collar resting in her lap. She’d come to my chambers alone, without Helena or Cassandra or any of the priestesses who’d been monitoring my condition. Just her, my best friend.
“You said terrible things,” Danae agreed, her characteristic bluntness cutting through the heavy air between us. “At the noodle shop. In the healing room. But we both know those words weren’t really yours.”
I flinched at the memories. Calling her ‘just a Beta’ with such venom, accusing her of being a ‘bitch in heat’ over Alexander. The shame of it sat like lead in my stomach. I was so tired. Tired of fighting my own fear, of hurting people I loved, of not recognizing myself anymore.
“I’m sorry.” The words felt inadequate. “Day, I’m so sorry. You’re my best friend and I—”
“It wasn’t your fault.” Danae smiled slightly and pushed her glasses up her nose. “We can’t fix the past, Andie. We can only engineer a better future.”
“Always so pragmatic.” I managed a weak smile despite everything. “Tell me then, Day. Will this collar fix things?”
Danae opened the case, revealing the delicate choker inside. The interwoven silver and gold strands caught the afternoon light, beautiful and terrible at once. It was a symbol of everything I’d lost—my autonomy, my sanity, my control over my own mind.
“That’s the idea,” Danae said carefully.
“The collar will use a neutral House Zeus aura signature to regulate your brainwave patterns. It should counteract the curse’s effect on your perception.
” She paused, meeting my eyes directly. “But if you agree to it, don’t do it for me. Do it because you want your mind back.”
I stared at the collar, trying to imagine what it would feel like to wear it.
To have someone else’s aura wrapped around my thoughts, forcing them into stable patterns.
The idea should have terrified me. Maybe it did.
But the alternative was worse. I couldn’t continue this spiral into paranoia and rage.
I couldn’t watch myself destroy everyone who cared about me while being powerless to stop it.
A distant voice whispered in the back of my mind. “You can’t trust her. She’s working with him. They all want to control you.”
I clenched my fists, drowning out the insidious suggestion. That was the curse talking, not my own thoughts. I knew the difference now, even if I couldn’t always fight it.
My hand drifted to my neck, to the spot where Alexander’s temporary claiming mark had been. The lightning-scar pattern had faded days ago, leaving only unmarked skin. I’d felt its absence like a missing limb, that anchor to sanity slipping away.
“Will Alexander be there?” I asked shakily. “When you… when we try this?”
Danae’s expression softened slightly. “If you want him there.”
Did I want him there? The question felt impossible to answer. Part of me craved his presence with an intensity that frightened me. Another part recoiled at the thought, certain his proximity would only make everything worse. The curse made it impossible to know which feeling was real.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t know what I want anymore, Day. That’s the whole problem.”
But I did know. And much to my shame, it was him. It always had been.
With shaking fingers, I reached for the collar. “When? When do we do this?”
Danae covered my hand with her own. Her calluses felt so familiar, anchoring me to a reality that made no sense. “In the morning, if you’re up for it. I still have a few final checks. Just to make sure.”
I didn’t reply. I couldn’t. I just nodded. And when Danae finally left, I collapsed in my bed, drained of strength.
Morning came too soon.
I woke to the sound of my door opening. Helena stepped inside, her movements uncharacteristically hesitant. She wore simpler robes today, without the formal regalia of House Hera’s matriarch. Just my mother, looking older and more tired than I’d ever seen her.
The tension between us stretched taut as a wire. “Andromeda,” she murmured. “It’s time.”
I sat up slowly, my body stiff from another restless night. Helena moved closer, and I saw the shimmer of unshed tears in her eyes. That shocked me more than anything. I’d never seen my mother cry.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “For not telling you about the curse sooner. For failing you as I did. But no longer, Andromeda. I promise.”
The words should have meant something. Maybe they did. But I was too hollow, too exhausted to feel the weight of them properly. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Matriarch Winters.”
She flinched at the formal title. Good. Let her feel a fraction of what I’d been feeling.
But she didn’t argue. She simply held out her hand to me, waiting.
I took it. Not because I’d forgiven her, but because I needed help standing. My legs felt unsteady beneath me, weak from the constant drain of fighting the curse.
Together, we made our way through the temple’s corridors.
The morning sun streamed through high windows, painting everything in shades of gold and amber.
Priestesses we passed bowed to Helena, their eyes sliding over me with barely concealed pity.
I hated it. Hated being the broken thing that needed fixing, the damaged Omega who couldn’t even control her own mind.
The healing room door stood open. I could smell them before I saw them—Cassandra’s warm hearth-fire scent, Danae’s metal and smoke, and underneath it all, that storm-electric presence that made my pulse quicken.
Alexander.
I stepped through the doorway and found him standing near the window.
Our eyes met across the room, and heat stirred low in my gut.
Unbidden, the memory of our last time together flooded my mind.
The heat of him beneath me, the feel of his skin under my nails, the way he’d looked at me with that desperate intensity while I’d ridden him into oblivion.
The marks I’d left on his chest, claiming him as thoroughly as any bonding bite.
My hands itched to touch him. My nails ached with the desire to sink them into his flesh again. I wanted to leave fresh evidence of my presence on his body. The urge was so strong I had to curl my fingers into fists.
Then I noticed the other man.
He stood on the opposite side of the room, leaning casually against one of Danae’s workbenches.
He looked impossibly out of place but didn’t seem to mind it.
His expensive suit and golden hair were too perfect, too polished for this space of desperate science and last-resort solutions.
His storm-gray eyes swept over me with an assessment that made my skin crawl.
“Miss Cross.” He straightened, offering me a smile that probably charmed most people. “I’m Argos Stormwright. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you properly. My son has told me so much about you.”
So, this was Alexander’s father. The perfect politeness in his voice grated against my nerves like sandpaper. I didn’t trust it. Didn’t trust him. “Has he?”
“All good things, I assure you.” Argos’s smile didn’t waver. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal. I hope this collar brings you some relief.”
There was something almost kind in his tone, a gentleness that felt calculated and wrong. Nothing about this man was kind without an agenda behind it.
“Your concern is touching,” I said flatly. “Especially from someone I’ve never met.”
“Andromeda.” Helena’s voice carried a warning.
But Argos just laughed, seemingly delighted by my hostility. “She has spirit. I can see why you’re so taken, Alexander.” He glanced at his son. “Though I imagine that spirit makes the curse’s effects even more challenging.”
Alexander’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. The tension between father and son was palpable, another layer of unease in this already complicated situation.
I moved to the chair positioned in the center of the room, desperate to escape this conversation. I sat down with as much dignity as I could muster. I hated how vulnerable I felt, even in a room full of people who presumably wanted to help me.
Cassandra approached first, her healer’s warmth radiating outward. “How are you feeling this morning, Andromeda?”
“Like I’m about to let you put a collar on me,” I snapped back at her. “How should I be feeling?”
Cassandra didn’t take offense. She never did. “The process should be painless. The collar will activate gradually, allowing your system to adjust to the aura regulation. You might feel some initial disorientation as your brainwave patterns stabilize.”
Danae moved to stand beside her, the case with the collar in her hands. “You can still say no, Andie. This is your choice.”
Was it? I looked around the room. The lines of strain on Danae’s face screamed of exhausted determination.
Cassandra’s healing fire flickered, betraying her concern.
My mother was still watching me with guilt-ridden hope.
As for Alexander… his carefully blank expression didn’t quite hide the desperate longing underneath.
He must have gone to his father for help, as there was no other reason Argos would be here. Going to him must have cost Alexander his pride. He’d humbled himself for me, just like he had in front of Orion Maris.
“Let’s do it,” I said. “Before I lose my nerve.”
I had wanted things before. Political outcomes, territory, problems solved correctly. I had wanted Andie from the first moment I understood what she was to me. But I had never wanted anything the way I wanted the collar to work.
It was a specific, excruciating wanting that had nowhere to go. The outcome was entirely out of my hands. I was watching Danae carry the collar toward the chair, and every second felt like holding my breath underwater.