Chapter 8
Sebastian
One would expect to sleep soundly after spending a month on a bed that forced you to fold your legs at an odd angle and in a cell that clanked loudly with whips of wind and forced long-repressed memories from the recesses of your mind.
But I’d simply traded that hell for another form of torture.
Persy was, apparently, a rather restless sleeper. I heard every sigh that left her lips, every time she turned over in bed, every time she got up and did Fates knew what around her room before dropping back down on the mattress.
By the time the sky started to lighten behind the distant peaks of Olympus, I’d decided I was done. I hauled myself out of bed and walked out of her house with a care I refused to acknowledge. She’d been quiet for over an hour and was likely still asleep. I wasn’t being kind for making my steps silent.
Especially since she’d probably fucking thank me again.
Nope. We were avoiding that.
And because she insisted on being kind in a way that made me feel like snapping something’s neck, she’d given me the perfect place to flee and leave her to take hold of precious moments of restful sleep.
If I had to hear her toss and turn, knowing she wasn’t getting any sort of good sleep, I would start to descend into madness. That was the horrid thing with being the god of medicine. You knew exactly how something as simple as sleep could damage someone’s health.
Persy needed to sleep. She had too much on her plate to lose precious hours of rest and recovery to whatever was keeping her awake. If she kept at it like this, she’d snap or start to wither away into––further––insanity and because we were living together, I would have to be the one to see it happen.
And then I would probably have to help her.
And then she would probably thank me, her eyes growing soft with gratitude.
Fuck that.
It was a much better solution to simply leave the house.
I pushed through the doors of the studio a second later and was immediately assaulted with the smell of paint and fresh canvas, which sent an unwelcome wash of comfort through my chest.
I didn’t do comfort. When you were around things you loved, things that gave you peace, that left room for your thoughts to get away from you. For long-repressed emotions to sneak their way back in and threaten to throw up all over your carefully crafted plans.
It was only the need to escape from Persy that made this okay.
I was also intelligent enough to know that I had failed. Persy would have to literally flay my skin open to get me to admit it, but this coup was never my plan.
It was shoved upon me, and yes, I had taken it on willingly after…
I led it. I had the evidence of it inked into my body for the rest of my life. I did it because I could. Because who wouldn’t make a grab for power, using threats and manipulation to get what you wanted, if the opportunity presented itself?
But the cost of taking Adrian’s power was death.
Over the the last few months it had spiraled until one day I woke up and had the blood of hundreds on my hands.
I assumed it was my power that stopped me from just accepting that people had to die to get what I wanted. What my parents had wanted.
No rightful god of medicine could sit by and watch as people bled out for me. Succumbed to injuries I caused.
No rightful god of art could be okay with letting life get snuffed out, taking the opportunity for just a few more pieces of creativity to come into the world.
It was done.
I hauled a large canvas onto an easel and opened up one of the boxes of oil paintings carefully displayed on a large table.
A scoff scraped my throat a second later.
Apollo-brand paint.
Of course, she did.
Everything in this room was Apollo-blessed, even the pencil in my hand that was practically begging me to snap it.
Thoughtful little thing, wasn’t she?
The worst part was that I didn’t think it was a trick. It was one of the easiest ways to manipulate someone. Get them to think you cared about them and they were more likely to trust you. Listen to you.
Accept your help.
I was sure Persy leveraged that natural kindness in her job, but it was clear it came from a genuine place and that made it all the more dangerous.
It was the type of kindness that followed you. Made you think about it for weeks. Or while you were setting up paint on a palette, dropping white, black, blues, reds and other basics onto the ceramic.
My forefinger was brushing against something slightly raised. Securing my grip, I turned the palette over and made an incredulous sound in the back of my throat. The ceramic palette was painted with a gold sun, depicted with sharp, geometric lines extending out to the rounded edges.
Fates help me, she was a menace.
I forcefully pushed the image of Persy’s face out of my mind, focusing in on any other source of inspiration. I stared at the blank canvas, trying to sort through the assault of images slamming into me.
This was the problem that had plagued me for so long. This used to be so clear, a realistic picture popping into my head that felt like a wild animal slamming against a trap until I let it free by putting brush to canvas.
I twirled the pencil between my fingers, spinning it in circles while I willed my mind to focus in on one constant piece of imagery. Something I could grab onto.
It was mostly whites and golds with tinges of light, violet-gray. But there was something in the center, a landscape with sunset pink and orange that snuck through.
It was an image that didn’t make me completely nauseous.
And one that didn’t need an underlying sketch. That made it easier, less pressure to get the base right and freedom to take the landscape where it wanted to go.
Tucking the pencil behind my ear, I picked up a larger brush and loaded it with a mix of paint and set it to canvas.
The first strokes moved smoothly, without pain. If I was capable of relief, that would have been the emotion I felt.
In what felt like a few blinks, the canvas had turned from a stale beige to a mellow, muted sky.
“I waited as long as I could to disturb you, but you have a visitor.”
I was a god. I did not flinch or jump in surprise. The muscles in my back simply chose that specific moment to clench and tense, despite the sweet voice that had spoken.
I slowly lowered the brush, feeling a little trickle of protectiveness over the painting slither through my chest. I squashed it as quickly as it arose.
It was a childish reaction.
Let alone the fact that Persy was sure to snoop on her own. Though she’d probably call it research. She could see the painting.
“Who is it?” I said, wiping off my hands with a towel as best I could. The forearms of my shirt were shot, but that was what happened when you painted with your sleeves pulled down to your wrists.
Persy smiled, her eyes darting over my shoulder to take a look at what I’d painted. I leaned a hip against a table, one off to the side.
“A god,” Persy said distractedly.
“I’ll wait as long as you need, love,” I said, with a clear smile in my tone.
Persy nodded and smiled softly, but then blinked several seconds later, realizing what I’d said. “Wait, what?”
I smiled, pushing off the table and taking a few steps towards her. Another example of my poor moral code, I liked how she stiffened when I approached. Like she was bracing for me. “I’ll wait while you take a look at what I was painting. I know you want to.”
Persy seemed to forcefully drag her eyes away from the canvas and to me. “I don’t want to intrude. It just looked really familiar. I was trying to figure out what it was.”
Her honesty should have been refreshing, but all it made me want to do was beg her to lie to me. “It’s the hills and sky behind your house,” I said, giving her the answer.
Bad idea. Once it clicked, she went off like a firework, brightening and clasping her hands under her chin. “Oh, it’s so perfect! Would you consider letting me keep it after you’re done?”
For some reason, my mouth had gone completely dry. “Why?” I half-croaked out.
Persy smiled, even though there was color blooming on her cheeks. “I mean, it’s perfect. Let alone the fact that it’s probably my favorite view here. To have more than one version, and one this good, would be just…” Persy trailed off, moving her hands slowly back and forth to communicate that it was more than she could put into words, but after a moment she found the words she was looking for. “An honor.”
I had multiple paintings hanging in our most revered museums. My work had been praised by countless critics as being a revival of the Apollo style and emotion everyone loved so much. And yet, hearing that it would be an honor to hand it over to her was the greatest compliment I’d ever received. “It’s yours,” I said, before I could fully process the thought. And then, in an attempt to regain some footing, “It’s made with your materials anyway.”
“True,” Persy said, smiling and nodding her head in agreement. “But it”s your talent. I’m glad you’re using it.” And then there was that precious moment I’d come to look out for where Persy’s eyes went slightly unfocused and I knew she was about start off on a new path. “Anyway, as I said, you do have a visitor. I waited as long as I could, but you have to come with me now.”
“You could have just disturbed me.” She owed me nothing.
“Oh,” she said it as if the thought had simply never occurred to her. “Well, I did appreciate the bit of time alone. I didn’t sleep well.” I know, I heard, I wanted to say. “So it was nice to be able to have a slower morning.”
Noted.
I looked back over Persy’s shoulder towards the house, looking for whichever god decided to make an appearance. “I hope you don’t mind, but I ate some of the breakfast you left.”
My eyes shot back to Persy’s. “I made it for you.” The same thing I’d said last night. I enjoyed cooking and so it was only natural I took advantage of her beautiful kitchen, especially since I didn’t have anything better to do.
It had nothing to do with the fact that her ardent support of her other chef made me itchy.
“Thank you,” Persy said, the words somewhat less grating than they’d been a few days ago. “It was really good.” Another compliment that registered like a physical attack on my system.
Suddenly, I couldn’t stand a minute longer standing here, staring at her while her hair glowed with soft light from the dim morning sun. I jerked my chin towards the house. “Lead me to my death, love.”
Persy’s eyebrows shot together in immediate concern before she realized that I’d been joking. “Right.” She turned and I followed her, reminding myself that it was not even remotely important for me to figure out where on her back her hair fell to. “I moved your first meeting with the doctor to tomorrow so you have time to work today. After that, it’s you and I for the rest of the day. We’ll—”
I stopped listening. Because a god who was too smart for most people, complete with auburn hair that glowed like the sunset was standing on our back porch, arms crossed.
“Daphne?” I asked, shock clear in my tone. “That’s who volunteered?”
Persy turned to me and nodded, her grin bright like she had no idea why I’d be shocked. She was going to make me explain, wasn’t she? “I intentionally poisoned her. For multiple months.”
“I know,” Persy said, her smile splitting but never falling. “I think you two should be able to get an antidote going in no time, don’t you think?”
I could have an antidote ready in less than a minute, but no one needed to know that right now. “And if I choose not to help her?”
Persy’s nose scrunched up slightly in distaste. “Well, that would be rather disappointing.” I waited for her to add something about the consequences to come if I didn’t help, but she just left it at that. That she’d be disappointed.
I didn’t give a shit what disappointed her or not. So why was I processing that as a perfectly logical reason to help? “I’ll work with her,” I grumbled. Didn’t mean I had to be happy about it.
Persy brightened at my agreement. Well, if that was going to be her reaction I would possibly, maybe consider changing my ways to be slightly more agreeable. Only by an inch though.
“I can tell you guys are talking about me!” Daphne called from across the expanse of grass.
“Sorry!” Persy returned, her voice barely rising above her normal tone. It was nothing but a tease when I first said it, but now I was realizing that she really didn’t yell or use a harsh tone with anyone.
Just me, it seemed.
Not something to be proud of, but pride trickled in regardless.
Persy scurried over the stones nestled into the grass with the grace of a gazelle, picking up the fabric of her long skirt just enough for her feet to have the room they needed.
By the time I made it to the back porch, Daphne and Persy were already deep in conversation about something. I hadn’t realized how close Persy had grown to some of the gods. It wasn’t out of the norm. She was only a year or two younger than Daphne.
In the years that I’d grown distant from my friends—her brother included—she’d grown closer.
“Hello,” Daphne greeted, one eyebrow rising sarcastically as I approached.
“Daphne.” I didn’t like how quickly she cut to the core of people. It was why I had kept my distance from her the most.
She looked me up and down slowly, cataloging my stance. “Nice to see you.”
I scoffed, not even trying to hide it. “You don’t have to lie, you know.” If I was her, I’d be halfway through a plan to make my life as painful as possible.
“It is,” she said, shrugging one shoulder. “Partially because I’d like to figure out why it took me so long to guess. Right now I’m settling on hope for our friendship.”
“Guessing at all is impressive,” I said casually, even though that was a little piece of the story no one had bothered to tell me. I’d figured that they’d worked it out, being able to catch me by surprise and all, but I didn’t know Daphne was the one to do it.
Daphne let out a short breath of laughter, then turned to Persy. “Are you gonna hang around or do you have work?”
Persy’s eyes drifted to me for a quick beat before she answered. “I’ll leave you two to get to work. I’m gonna go meet up with Niky.”
I caught my groan at the last minute. I didn’t care to hear any more about her fucking boyfriend—even if he was a former friend of mine—than I needed to.
Daphne smiled, full of warmth. “He’s in the marketplace trying and failing to be subtle. I’m sure you’ll get a face full of flowers when you get there.”
He brought Persy flowers, huh? Guess his head wasn’t just a holding place for algae after all. Though I would have happily spent multiple minutes picturing seaweed falling out of his ears, there was something marginally more interesting drawing my attention.
After Persy hugged Daphne quickly and shot me a smile, she left us alone.
“You’re friends with Nikolas, now?” I asked, doubt clear in my voice. Daphne was openly protective of Lukas. I was pretty sure I’d seen her restrain a real urge to strangle Piper—the woman so obsessed with taking her place she was willing to join my ranks and help poison Daphne. After Nikolas’s role in that same plan, I was sure she’d want nothing to do with him.
Daphne chuckled low. “Come inside. I’ll explain while you work.”
“Ah, so you’ll just sit by sipping tea while I do everything?” I worked better alone, but that was of no consequence.
Daphne dropped dramatically onto Persy’s couch. “Don’t think I’ll be drinking anything around you for a while.”
“Fair.” I’d poisoned her by offering tainted whiskey the first time. My jaw loosened, as if my body was prepared to speak further. To offer explanation or—Zeus forbid—an apology. Instead, I settled on, “Why did you volunteer?”
Daphne didn’t look up, just waved her hands over the vials and bottles she’d brought over and scattered across the coffee table. “This is everything you should need to get an antidote going. I got close, but not quite there. To be fair, I also got fairly distracted by the quality of the tonic you gave me. I haven’t seen anything close to that level of complexity. What did you add to target the part of my power that was specifically damaged? That was—”
I grabbed the tonic I’d given her to heal the damage I’d caused, wrapping my hand over the gold-painted ceramic. I pushed my power into it with my left hand, while my right hand added a few other liquids, measuring entirely by muscle memory. Three pointed shakes later, the antidote was done.
“Here,” I said, shoving it towards Daphne. I didn’t need anyone to remind me how good I was at my job. The more people were aware of someone’s raw talent or power, the more they were tempted to manipulate it. I learned that the hard way. “Give it to Reyna. She’ll be free to speak within the hour.”
Daphne blinked down at the vial in my hand. “It took me two months to figure this out for the tattoos.”
“That one was more complicated,” I said, my tone coming out in defense of her. Surely that hadn’t been my intention.
Daphne looked up at me from where she was sitting, brows pinched. She opened her mouth, and I just knew it would be to comment on the fact that no other Apollo in history could have done it that fast.
I cut her off before she got the chance. “Now that pesky antidote is out of the way, you can tell me why you volunteered. Or why you haven’t ripped Nikolas’s head off for what he did to Lukas. Your pick.”
Daphne breathed out, the exhale sounding like a chuckle. “Zeus help me, you love a story.”
It wasn’t false, so I didn’t deny it.
“I guess they’re the same answer, really,” she began, her eyes going slightly distant. Everyone did that when they were about to launch into a story. She rested her arm on the back of the couch, folding her hand back to rest under her chin, the picture of introspection. “I made a mistake. I hurt the one person I love more than anything else in this world. There were a million little reasons behind my decision—or impulse, really—to run.” Ah, so this was about her disappearing act on Lukas. Touching. “There was an explanation. Not one that justified the hurt or the fact that I shouldn’t have run, but there was a reason for it.”
She looked at me pointedly then. “There is always an explanation for someone’s mistakes. Sometimes it’s just that they are a bad person. But sometimes,” she drew the word out, making sure even the most ignorant couldn’t miss that she was talking about me. “It’s a good person making a misguided decision.”
“You think I’m misguided?” I hedged.
Daphne scoffed at my tone. “Think what you will. The point is that Nikolas deserves forgiveness. He’s put in the work. He’s been nothing but apologetic. So yes, I chose to forgive him.”
“And Lukas knows you do this?” Lukas could go shot for shot with Daphne in protectiveness. I would be shocked if he just let her hang out with one of the people most instrumental in her poisoning, family ties aside.
“Of course,” Daphne said quickly, looking almost comically affronted at the idea that she would be lying to him. “He’s still not super happy. But that’s his family.”
I internalized my scoff. Putting too much faith in one’s family was a mistake. “How wonderful to have a sibling you care for so much,” I said, sarcasm clear in my tone.
Daphne’s eyes narrowed. “You have siblings. In the way that matters.”
“One of them is dead and the other I haven’t spoken to in a year,” I shot back, not even caring about the sharp bite in my tone.
Except I forgot who I was talking to. Unfortunately, I knew Daphne well. Enough to know her history and know that she was raised by a combative mother and dismissive father, all of which meant if you snapped at her, she would snap right back.
“And whose fault is that? You hurt Luce by refusing to talk to them,” Daphne said, breathing in. The second she opened her mouth again, I knew what was coming. If I wasn’t in Persy’s home, assaulted by the reminders of her expectation of kindness, I would have probably preemptively told Daphne that she should stop talking if she had any care for her husband’s life. Instead, I kept my mouth shut and forced myself to hear it. “You’re forcing them to lose two siblings.”
Fuck.
Guilt slammed me in the chest before I could stop it. I’d once considered Luce a sibling, having grown up alongside them my whole life.
I refused to talk about this any further, but the best I could do was grumble, “I’ll handle it.”
Daphne harrumphed, clearly wanting to talk about this more. Tough fucking luck. The only person who seemingly had the power to make me speak when I didn’t want to was off meandering about with her boyfriend, pouring all that precious, strong kindness onto him.
Fucking asshole.
Daphne smoothed the fabric of her pants, standing with the finalized antidote in her hands. She stared down at me as best she could. “I need you to know that I forgive you.”
I opened my mouth, but she waved a hand to silence me. “No. You need to hear this. We are all prepared to forgive you. Yes, some of us have some anger to work through first, but we are all want our friend back. Let Persy help you. Please. Because if you try to go for Adrian’s power again, that’s the last straw.”
I had no choice to admit that there were emotions warring in my chest. Unwanted, uncomfortable emotions, but they were there regardless. Even though I wasn’t sure Persy could do anything for me but turn me into a worse, more selfish man, I nodded, rubbing my hand over my jaw.
Satisfied, Daphne turned to leave. She made it all the way to the door before pausing and turning over her shoulder. Her eyes darted to me, then around Persy’s belongings scattered across the room. Her stare landed for a heavy beat on the kitchen, clearly noting the way I’d rearranged some of Persy’s once-abandoned kitchenware to make everything more efficient.
Something flickered across her face, an idea surely, before clamping it down with a shake of her head. She turned back to me. “If Persy bakes anything, please let me know first. Lukas is insufferable without at least a cupcake a week.”
I scoffed loudly. “Is that supposed to be a if hell freezes over thing?”
Daphne’s eyebrows slammed together. “What?”
Surely, everyone wasn’t this fucking obtuse. “Persy doesn’t bake.”
“But she—” Daphne cut herself off, gesturing towards the kitchen then stopping short as she took it in with new eyes. No leftovers, no cake stands, nothing. “She brings something new every time she comes over,” she finished, as if that answered anything.
“I don’t think that woman could bake if her life depended on it.”
Daphne’s eyes narrowed, latching onto the words I’d said rather than my tone. It wasn’t a criticism or a slight. I just simply couldn’t picture Persy wanting to do any of the things baking required.
Before Daphne could make up insane theories in her head about the status of our living situation, I pushed forward. “You should probably get that antidote to Reyna,” I said, nodding down at the vial in her hand. “We wouldn’t want Adrian to get mad you kept it from him for longer than a minute, now would we?”
Daphne didn’t even crack a smile. “Why do you hate him so much?”
Oh, there were multiple answers to that question, but she’d be hearing none of them. I shrugged, forcing my limbs to stay relaxed. Casual. “He had something I wanted.”
Daphne’s eyes narrowed, like she didn’t quite believe me. See, it was that weird glow in her hazel eyes that made me stay far away from people who thought they could figure me out.
I’d do well to apply that conviction to Persy.
That was a project for another day, because I had other shit to do right now. “Anything else you need? If not, I’d really like to get some stuff done before Persy decides to capitalize my evening.” It was harder to keep my voice harsh, because I didn’t quite believe that I was in for a completely horrible afternoon at Persy’s hand.
Fucking hell, she was working her way under my skin with alarming speed.
Daphne simply nodded, giving me grace. That was fucking annoying, because it forced me to feel guilt.
She looked down at my sleeves, still covered in paint. She breathed in, looking relieved. “It’s good to see you painting again. We’ve been in a severe deficit of your work.” She smiled, as if picturing her favorite work of mine. “Welcome back, Apollo.”
I had to clench my jaw to prevent a defensive reaction, like a shark snapping its teeth to ward off an annoyance. She was welcoming back the Apollo who was able to use his power to bring beauty and art into the world, not use it to grasp for power that wasn’t his.
I could almost hear Persy’s voice in my head, begging me to be nice. Saying she appreciated when people were. It was only the desire to prevent her from yelling at me for upsetting our friend that had me steadying my voice and forcing out a semi-polite. “Thank you.”
Daphne curled her lips, as if to restrain a laugh, but wisely chose to just nod and step back through a portal, Reyna’s antidote in hand.
The second she left me alone, I ran my hands down my face, already exhausted from a few moments of charity and kindness.
Having collected myself enough to feel an ounce more control over myself, I stomped out of the house to do something entirely selfish.