Chapter 5 Hera
Hera
“Everyone is looking for you.” It’s such a silly thing to say, but though I expected her to come here, I didn’t expect her to pop out of a stall like a damn magician.
“I know.” She’s wearing a pair of fitted jeans, a tank top, and a leather jacket. Circe moves to the sink next to me and leans forward to swipe her thumb under one eye. “I told you that I’d reach out when I was ready. I’m ready.”
It takes a single breath to get my head on straight—or as close to it as I can manage. She’s here, which means I have an opportunity to twist this situation to ensure my family remains safe. She wouldn’t seek me out if she didn’t want something. “I’m listening.”
“Good girl.” Her lips twist. “I’ve been watching you for a while—a Hera who refuses to be broken by their Zeus. A warrior in your own right. Recruiting Poseidon was a clever move, even if it didn’t quite work out the way you wanted.”
My skin heats. She sounds admiring, but this is obviously a trap. Why else craft a compliment that stings so sharply? “You’re saying a lot without saying much at all.”
Circe laughs softly. “You’re Hera. You know what this city does to those who can’t fight back. Would you have married Zeus if the safety of your family wasn’t in the mix?”
“No.” There’s no point in lying. I did what I had to.
“Only one of the Thirteen is voted on by the people. Historically, the rest are pulled primarily from the legacy families, each more rotten than the next. The best and the brightest are supposed to be the ones who lead the city, no matter what part of the city they come from, but that’s not how the system actually works.
All the Thirteen care about is their own power, not the responsibilities of a good leader.
” She speaks with a practiced air, as if this is something she’s said many times before.
“A good leader,” I echo. I almost laugh. “A good leader like you, I suppose.”
She shrugs a single shoulder. “Why not? I’m intimately acquainted with how the majority of our citizens live, the ones who aren’t invited to those glittering parties in Dodona Tower. The ones Olympus is built on the backs of. I was one of those people.”
I was relatively young when Circe became Hera for such a short time. I don’t know what it was about her that had Zeus marrying her instead of adding her to the list of his more traditional victims. Olympus has always been willing to overlook the sins of the Thirteen, and Zeus especially.
The only person who dared challenge him was Hercules, his other son, after the horrible events with Leda.
There was no justice for Leda. Hercules was run out of town and hasn’t been seen since.
I know he’s still alive because there’s a text thread in my husband’s phone from a little less than a year ago.
Zeus asked Hercules to come back now that their father is dead.
Hercules asked if Zeus—Perseus, then—intended to take the title.
When he affirmed that he did, none of the rest of his texts gained a reply.
I don’t know what my face is doing, but apparently it’s response enough for Circe.
She drags her fingers through her short hair, ruffling it attractively.
“The Thirteen are a holdover from a different time. We need to move into the future—a better future. Olympus should be ruled by a government that actually represents the people, under the guidance of, well, me.”
“Strange how you don’t need to be elected in this utopia you paint,” I murmur.
Her smile disappears. “Did I say that?”
I brush that away. I’m not interested in arguing semantics with her. We’ve already been in here too long. It’s only a matter of time before Nephele comes to ensure I’m okay. “You obviously want something from me. Tell me what it is.”
“Direct. I like that.” She turns to face me and props her hip on the sink. “Originally, I had intended to wipe Olympus clean of all evidence of the Thirteen and their bloodlines, but as information has come to light, it seems best to change course.”
I motion for her to get to the point. “And?”
“I’m prepared to spare your family—as long as they are willing to renounce all claims to their respective titles and leave the city.”
Renounce their claims. I burst out laughing.
I can’t help it. “Might as well wish for pigs to fly. It’s about as likely to happen.
” My mother worked her entire life to become Demeter and she has no intention of giving up that power until her soul is yanked right out of her chest. Persephone carries the heir to the Hades title the same way I carry the heir to the Zeus title.
Worse, she loves her husband with a ferocity I’ve rarely seen from her.
She won’t abandon him. And Hades would never abandon his people.
“Then they’ll die.” Circe says it simply, as if it’s fact and not an obvious threat.
“I respect you and what you have done to survive and protect those you care about, but I won’t let you stand in my way.
” Her eyes flick down to my stomach. “I’m not interested in killing children—unborn or otherwise—if I have any other choice.
Take your family and leave Olympus. I won’t chase you down, but if you ever return, your lives are forfeit. ”
Terminating my pregnancy was the first thought I had when I saw that plus sign on the test. The idea of perpetuating the monstrosity of Zeus nearly had me making the appointment.
But this eventual child isn’t just Zeus’s heir, Zeus’s child.
They aren’t even just a step toward securing power and protection for the people I love.
They’re mine. “I don’t like it when people threaten my family, Circe. It doesn’t tend to end well for them.”
“Doesn’t it? Zeus is still alive, after all.” She smiles and turns away. “It’s in your hands, Hera. Convince your mother to leave Olympus. Hades as well, since I’m feeling generous. If they stay, they will die. I cannot stress the severity of this reality.”
The way she says it, it’s as if a force of nature is coming for Olympus, instead of the machinations of a single vengeful woman and her followers. I glare. “You’re outnumbered and outgunned, and yet you’re talking as if your victory is a sure thing.”
“It is.” She adjusts her jacket.
“You’ve made a miscalculation. All I have to do is scream and my team will come rushing in to eliminate any threat against me. You won’t be doing anything if you’re dead.”
“Cute.” She pulls out her phone and types something on it. “Check your texts.”
I almost bobble my phone getting it out of my pocket, and when I look at the screen, I wish I had dropped it. There’s a video through the lens of what looks like a sniper scope, peering into a window and showing a woman…
Ice freezes my veins. Not just any woman.
Persephone is pacing around the room, holding a phone to her ear with one hand and pressing the other to her blatantly rounded stomach.
She’s roughly fifteen weeks pregnant, but since she’s having twins, she’s showing as if farther along. “What the fuck?” I whisper.
“Next.”
Another video pops up. It’s similar, except it’s Eurydice sitting on Charon’s lap and laughing at something Orpheus is saying. She’s wearing the same thing she was in the video call we had earlier today, a white T-shirt with a funky geometric graphic on the front.
“And to be thorough—one more.”
I don’t want to open the next text, but I have no choice.
The third video is of my mother, her arms crossed over her chest and her face set in her best “I’m not mad, I’m disappointed” expression as she lectures Eros and Psyche.
He sits on a chair and Psyche stands behind him, kneading his shoulders.
I tuck my phone carefully back into my pocket, feeling like I’m moving in slow motion. “You’ve made your point quite effectively.”
“As they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. I’d say a video is worth even more.
I’ll be in touch.” Then the brazen bitch steps back and waves me at the door.
“Get going now. It would be awkward to explain to your guards why you’re having meetings with a mysterious woman in the bathroom. Someone might ask questions.”
Part of me wants to charge her, to call my team to fulfill my threat. I don’t. I stand there, my stomach roiling, until I have to rush back into the stall and lose what little I managed to eat today.
Circe tsks. “Darling, you’re going to need a stronger stomach than that to get through what’s coming.”
“Fuck. You.” I climb unsteadily to my feet and move to the sink to wash my mouth out as best I can, all while she watches with those sharp, green eyes. “It will never work, you know. You won’t win.”
“I already have.” She shakes her head almost sadly. “Now, get going.”
I stalk out of the bathroom. Nephele jumps at whatever she sees on my face, her eyes wide. “Is everything okay?”
“Peachy.”
Circe is threatening my fucking family.
I knew they were in danger, but I should have realized Circe wouldn’t risk bargaining without ensuring she’d come out on top.
No doubt she’d arranged for those snipers to pull their respective triggers if she didn’t walk away from this meeting.
Going through all this effort might be a compliment, but it doesn’t take away the fear rotting away my insides at the impossible task she’s set before me.
Hades and Demeter, two of the titles least likely to abdicate and flee the city, ironically for similar reasons.
My mother loves being loved and damn near worshipped.
Hades couldn’t care less about the perception of power, but he’s content to use it to protect the people of the lower city.
Both of them leverage their respective positions for the greater good.
My mother has expanded the food provided to the city almost exponentially in the last decade, purchasing land owned by various families and companies and bettering the systems and working conditions.
She takes her job deathly seriously, and even her plots to set her daughters up with powerful people have been misguided attempts to both protect us and ensure her end goals are fulfilled.
Yes, that benefits her first and the city a far second, but it does benefit the city.
Conversely, Hades spent most of his life embracing being the boogeyman of Olympus in order to ensure no one fucked with the lower city. Even now, he’s willing to miss an opportunity to leverage his position to amplify his power because that would mean leaving his portion of the city unprotected.
I can’t think of a single thing that would convince either of them to leave. They’re both far more likely to laugh me out of the room and then try to kill Circe personally. If it could be done, they would have already accomplished it.
No, fuck that. I didn’t marry godsdamned Zeus, didn’t spend months in his bed, didn’t conceive his future child, for it to end like this. Absolutely not.
I yank my phone out. “Give me a few.”
“Um. Sure.” Nephele falls back a few steps to give me the illusion of privacy.
It’ll have to be enough. I should probably move away from the bathroom doors, but a small, petty part of me is happy to let Circe stew in there a little longer. I dial Persephone, punching through her Do Not Disturb without hesitation.
She answers, breathless. “Callisto? What’s wrong?”
I have to close my eyes at the bittersweet sensation of hearing someone say my name. Not one Hera among many, but Callisto Dimitriou, singular and unique.
“Callisto?”
I wish I could avoid involving Persephone.
Her situation is a perfect inversion to my misery.
She loves her husband, her new role as queen of the lower city, loves the children she’s currently pregnant with.
She deserves all the best things, and I’m about to drop a bomb on her life.
“I need to see you. It’s important. An emergency. ”
She clears her throat, and when she speaks again, she sounds more like herself. “Are you safe?”
No. Not even a little bit. I haven’t been for a very long time. “Please, Seph.” The childhood nickname slips out despite my best efforts. “As soon as possible.”
“I can’t cross the barrier.” She lowers her voice. “I want to see you—you have no idea how much I want to see you—but it’s not just me I have to worry about anymore. It’s Hades and our people and—”
“And the babies.” I press my hand to my stomach, to the pawn within. A future child not created from love, but from necessity.
“Yeah. And the babies.” She pauses. “I can’t let you cross, either. I love you, Cal, but I also know you, and as much as I trust you, I understand that you’re playing our mother’s game now.”
“Not on her behalf,” I snap.
“No, not on her behalf.” Persephone is silent for several beats. “I guess we needed the lessons she taught us after all, didn’t we?”
“I guess we did.” I close my eyes. I should have expected the conversation to go like this, but Circe rattled me more than I want to admit.
I have no idea how a sniper—two—got into the lower city.
They must have already been there when the barrier went up.
“Can we meet on one of the bridges? I have to talk to you and it has to be in person.” She’ll have to hear me out that way, won’t be able to sever the conversation by hanging up.
She hesitates long enough that I suspect she’s going to reject the idea, but she finally says, “Tomorrow. I’ll call you later with the plan once I’ve made the proper arrangements.” Another pause. “Unless Zeus did something and you need sanctuary?”
“No.” The absurdity of it makes me laugh. No matter how much I hate my husband, he’s never actually hurt me. In fact, he takes such care with me that it makes me want to scream. I’m not breakable—I never have been—and I certainly don’t need to be protected by him.
But some things I can’t admit aloud, not even to Persephone.
“Tomorrow, then. I’ll wait for your call.”
“Okay,” she says. “Be safe.”
Not a chance of that. “You too.” I hang up and take what amounts to a steadying breath.
Or at least I try. Nothing is going like it should.
It was one thing to take personal risks with myself to murder my husband and establish myself as regent to the future Zeus of Olympus.
The only one in danger if that plan went wrong was me, and my life is something I’m willing to risk.
My family’s lives, on the other hand? Absolutely not.
Circe made a mistake threatening them, but damned if I can see a route through this that doesn’t end in blood and grief.