Chapter 22
Sebastian
“You nervous?”
“No.”
“Okay, scared.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I don’t believe for a second you’re excited about this.”
“Despite what you may think, Nikolas,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest while he snipped the thorns off flowers, “I feel perfectly fine.”
“I think that’s bullshit,” he said casually, his focus on the stems in his hands. “What did Calpurnia have to say about it?”
“She also called bullshit.” Though I’d developed a slight fondness for Calpurnia, the way that one would feel about an older neighbor who bothered you with treats and invasive questions, but she wasn’t right all of the time. Like now, for example. “I hate to break it to you both, but I am not worried about what the other gods are going to do to me.”
“I don’t know,” Nikolas said, shrugging one shoulder. He knew them as well as I did, as a former god himself. “I think you might have to be on the lookout for an attempt on your life.”
“Nah,” I said, shaking my head. “No heirs, remember?”
Nikolas looked up at me skeptically, saying so much in just that look. He could choke on seaweed before I addressed the layers of questions in that expression. Despite that conviction, I still added, “For now.”
“Why?” Nikolas asked, moving to gather the flowers in a bunch. He ripped off a piece of ribbon with his teeth. “Waiting for the perfect junior Apollo to stumble across your path?”
I shook my head. I knew exactly who I was going to instate, I just hadn’t gotten around to it yet. The Oracle’s message had lingered, staying with me like my own shadow, and I knew it was time.
Besides me coming back as Apollo, it was really the one thing Persy had been tasked with during these six months. And with little over a month left…
It was time.
A sick, twisted part of me wanted to dig my heels in and say fuck it and refuse to do it, even if that kept me locked away here for the rest of my life. That didn’t seem like the worst torture I could cook up.
Unfortunately, I knew I had to listen to the Oracle in that regard. The image of the world without any art or beauty or music wasn’t something that would leave me anytime soon. And seeing how distraught Persy was …
No, that wasn’t an option.
I needed to select heirs. I needed to come back as Apollo.
The first step in that journey was the Council meeting, which was certainly not making me nervous.
“Get off my ass and finish that bouquet before Kostas thinks you’ve lost interest,” I said to Nikolas.
His face immediately drained of blood. “You don’t think he would?”
I had to smile at the sheer horror in his voice. “Nikolas, you know what you’re doing.” I’d met one woman he’d dated for a while, and I remembered their relationship seeming like a good one. “Don’t freak out.”
“This is different,” he argued, fussing over the flowers. “This feels bigger. Like, permanent or something.”
Oh, he was fucked. I would be watching him get married within the year.
I walked over and clapped a hand over his shoulder. “Give Kostas my well wishes. I’m off.”
Nikolas nodded. “Tell Daphne I say hi.”
“Not your brother?”
Nikolas smirked, shrugging one shoulder. “Him, too.”
I would be hard pressed to say it out loud, but the slow regrowth of Nikolas and Lukas’s relationship made me happy for him. I saw how much lighter it made Nikolas first hand.
The brotherly teasing was a greater sign of their relationship than anything else.
“Don’t eat lunch,” I said as I walked out the door. “I have it on good authority you have a feast waiting for you when you drop off those flowers.”
Nikolas straightened, but I was gone with a laugh by the time he called after me. Kostas had dropped by this morning in a semi-panic, asking Persy—and me, technically, while I stood by and fed her—if we agreed it was time he formally ask Nikolas to be in a relationship.
They were both taking things slow, both careful of the reason they ended up in Prometheus in the first place.
I looked down at my watch, silently cursing when I realized I was going to be late. It would be entirely inappropriate for me to try to hunt down Persy at this stage.
I didn’t care all that much about the actual Council meeting. It would pass as normal.
But there was someone I needed to talk to, the thought of which made guilt and nerves twist through my stomach. The only thing worse than the idea of trying to rebuild that bridge would be walking in late, so I forced myself to gather a portal to Olympus and step through.
Thankfully, the Council hall was in the fancier part of Olympus. Adrian’s house was built into the background, the grand, limestone halls fading into a homey decor the further back you went.
But the Council hall looked like a temple, with towering columns and glistening marble fit for the gods. Normally, voices sprang off the walls, echoing loudly through the hallways, the voices of over a dozen gods fighting with each other.
This time, there was nothing but hushed whispers and quiet chatterings. I pushed through the large wooden doors to the room, expecting to find myself among the first to arrive given the noise.
What a shock it was, then, to find that I was dead last. Every single throne except for mine was filled with a god who was staring at me with a range of expressions from wide-eyed to carefully neutral.
“Happy Council,” I said, in an attempt to break the tension, walking over to my throne. I sat in the middle, right across from Lukas and Daphne’s joint throne. Adrian was at the head of the long, wooden table, carved from one of the oldest trees in the Mediterranean. On the other end of the table sat Rose and Dominic on a longer bench, painted the darkest black and decorated with gold. A wedding present that I remember had caused quite the ruckus between them.
Apollo was in the middle, across from the gods of the sea. There was balance there. The skies and Underworld juxtaposed, the sun and the seas oriented the same.
As I took a seat, no one, not even our lovely king, made a move to speak. Silence wasn’t anyone’s style, which made me think that they were being intentionally polite.
“Alright,” I said, leaning back in my chair casually, resting my arms on the curved sides, meant to represent the bend of a bow. “Who threatened you all?”
That was clearly what happened, or someone would have made a comment about my idiocy already. I looked around the table, waiting for someone to give it up, but no one met my eyes, finding the glass in front of them or their hands incredibly interesting.
I slid my gaze to the one god I knew had no problem speaking their mind, no matter how much of a grumpy asshole it painted them to be. “Dominic, care to share?”
The Roman god of the Underworld shook his head, moving his arm over the back of his throne and around his wife’s shoulders. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Bullshit. I moved my eyes over the entire table, meeting the top of heads more than I met eyes. I had half a mind to say that forced bashfulness wasn’t a good look on anyone with that much power. “We all may be different, but we all share an absolute inability to keep our mouths shut. You are all being far too normal about this. Who threatened you?”
Every eye in the room swung towards Adrian.
He held his hands up in surrender. “I simply passed along the message. I certainly did not come up with it.”
Persy.
Jupiter almighty, that little muse was fucking stubborn. She would never stop defending me, but I couldn’t find a bone in my body that had a problem with that.
“While I appreciate her well-intentioned warning, I do believe the purpose of all of this is to return to normalcy. And I know damn well you all keeping silent and acting nonchalant is not normal. Not to derail your plans, Jupiter,” I said, with a nod at Adrian. He caught his impressed expression at the last moment. It was the closest I’d come in years to truly honoring his position. “But I think we’d all do well to just address this now.”
Adrian raised his eyebrows, rolling his lips together to hide a smile. “Go ahead.”
I leaned back in my chair, getting a better view of the gods sitting to my left and right, Mia Ceres, the goddess of the harvest, and Jason Dionysus, the god of wine. The privileges of having a seat in the exact middle. My gaze landed for a moment on Luce, sitting next to Lukas, but I couldn’t pay too much attention to them right now. That was a much longer conversation.
“Everyone get your jokes and comments out now,” I said, motioning everyone along with my hand. “Then I’ll explain myself.”
“I mean what the fuck is your problem?!”
“Did Adrian try to kill you yet?”
“Were you really drunk all the time or was it an act?”
“How’s Persy?”
Every question was lobbed at me so fast I couldn’t tell who said what, though I was pretty sure it was Jason Dionysus who’d asked me about being drunk. He was right. It was an act to get people to think they could be more loose-lipped around me without consequence.
I actually stayed pretty far away from over-consumption of alcohol, especially after seeing what it did to my father.
Only two of those questions I would bother answering. I wasn’t liable for what I did if I answered that last one. “For one,” I said, looking at Gus Mercury, the youngest of us and the messenger of the gods, who I was pretty sure had asked me about Adrian. “Yes, Adrian did try to kill me, though I don’t have the scar to prove it.”
I looked over to Adrian, expecting to find him smirking, but he looked rather surprised. I guess he didn’t expect me to heal.
“And secondly,” I said, turning to address the whole table. “I took on my parent’s poor grasp for power. Why I did it is my own, but I can assure you all it won’t happen again. I’m rather content as Apollo.” I waited a few quick beats while everyone stared at me in silence before I finally broke. “Come on, no one has something to say?”
It was Luce who saved me, shrugging their shoulder nonchalantly as they ran their hand over their bow. “Well, I think that’s as good an apology as any. So long as any residual doesn’t affect the rest of us, I think we can find it in our hearts to forgive you.”
I breathed out, feeling all too relieved. When that happened, I tended to self sabotage. “I had someone on my side in each of your courts. Some rather high up.”
Luce didn’t so much as flinch. “You would have been an idiot if you hadn’t.”
Mia Ceres decided to jump in, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “We’ve known for quite some time. Hard not to when a random guard or advisor all of the sudden can’t remember chunks of time.”
Right. The antidote Daphne had made for the tattoos caused memory loss. I needed to formally apologize. Finding out someone you trusted had loyalties elsewhere was a betrayal. “I apologize.”
“Oh, Fates help me, did he just say sorry?” Jason Dionysus gasped from next to me. That was the exact reaction that I could handle. I could only take the earnest apologies for so long.
“Shut up,” I barked back, though the words held no bite. Jason just laughed in return, a big, booming laugh fit for the god responsible for the best parties the Mediterranean had ever seen.
Adrian, in all his kingly glory, decided now was a good time to jump in. “That offers a great transition into what I’d primarily like to talk about today.”
Despite all controlling their own parts of the world, every god straightened in Adrian’s presence. I could respect his power and authority, and that respect had been a long time coming, but I stayed leaning back in my chair.
“We are stronger than ever,” Adrian began, resting his hands on the back of his throne. He hardly ever sat at these things. “Thanks to a few good moments in the public eye.”
“Reyna,” someone muttered under their breath, trying and failing to smother it with a cough.
At that very moment, thunder boomed outside. “If you plan on speaking my wife’s name, do it so I can hear what you have to say and decide whether or not I should kill you for it,” Adrian said, his voice just as thunderous.
“He doesn’t fuck around where she is concerned,” I said, the words jumping out before I could stop them. It would be a comment I’d normally make, but I was still treading on thin ice here. “Trust me,” I added for good measure.
To my utter shock and horror, Adrian laughed.
My gaze swung to the other end of the table, finding Dominic smothering a laugh under his own hand.
Wait, that wasn’t right. I wasn’t supposed to make any of them laugh. They were supposed to be angry and resentful and spend this time reminding me how badly I’d fucked up.
Though I’d done a spectacular job of doing that myself, it was expected that they’d pile on. Even without Persy’s warning.
It seemed that Adrian had changed course from the brunch, deciding he didn’t quite fancy ripping my head off just yet. I didn’t know if that would change after I instated heirs or not.
“As Sebastian can easily tell you, don’t fuck with Reyna,” Adrian said, his voice full of unwavering authority. “Unless you’d like me to conveniently decide to lose control of lightning, shut it.” Adrian rolled his shoulders back, resetting what he’d meant to say. “We have had some good years, but we need to make sure it stays that way.”
His eyes slid to me for a second. If I wasn’t mistaken, there was something like apology there. “The fact that Sebastian was able to gain supporters means we haven’t been as thorough in our attempts to smooth over my birth as we thought. I want everyone to be more aware of their patrons” concerns, and if you can’t fix it come to me.”
I snuck a glance to the entire table, finding everyone nodding in agreement. I’d expected some sneers in my direction, but found none.
“It is also our responsibility to make sure that if something like this happens again,” Adrian said, this time making his glance at me obvious. I held my ground. I had no intention of doing this again. “It is not for reasons attributable to our leadership or power. Now, any grumblings from any of your patrons?” He asked the room.
Everyone’s eyes swung to each other, finding nothing. Well, I guess this was my duty, then. “I haven’t been as tapped into my old circle,” I began. “But if there was any remaining disgruntlement, it would be from family members.”
“Have you heard anything?” Luce asked, knowing from personal experience how horrid my family could be.
“Andrew pitched a fit,” I explained, my skin rolling with rage at the thought of my uncle. “I haven’t heard anything else yet, though.”
“They may be waiting for the right time,” Rose said from down the table. “It’s been quiet while you haven’t been as active, but they might come crawling back out when you return to the spotlight.”
I had zero intention of ever returning to the level of fame I’d cultivated before this whole mess. I wasn’t someone who preened under attention. I simply loved the gifts my power fueled, and attended public events that supported them. It was nothing more than a coincidence that people viewed art galleries and musical performances and grand hospital fundraisers as the social events of the year. In fact, I found it rather annoying.
“What are you suggesting?” I asked, catching on to the undercurrent of Rose’s words.
“She’s saying you should start engaging more publicly again. See who comes out of the woodwork when you do,” Dominic said, seamlessly complementing his wife’s words.
Ugh, that sounded like fucking torture. But if it meant I could sign this whole thing away and burn it, fine. “What did you have in mind?” I asked Adrian, knowing he was probably the mastermind behind all of this.
Based on his small grin, he had been the one to come up with this insanity. “Start small. Maybe an Apollo gallery—”
“He already did that,” Dominic interrupted. Bold of him, regardless, but I had a feeling I knew what he was insinuating. I had half the mind to jump over the table and strangle him for bringing that up, though I knew that wouldn’t help matters. It was my fault that he and Rose and walked in on me and Persy when I had her practically pressed to a wall.
“Anyway,” Adrian said, drawing out the word while he looked between Dominic and I in confusion. “I didn’t hear any news of that outing, so do it again publicly.”
There was no arguing with that tone. Even I knew that. Still, I asked, groaning, “Is that really the best option?”
“Yes.” Well, Adrian surely intended that word to leave no room for argument.
“Oh, don’t put up such a fuss,” Luce teased from across the table. “You used to love these things.”
“I was drunk at these things,” I countered. While Luce smiled, I continued, “But yes, Adrian, that is probably a good idea.
“Great, that’s settled,” Adrian said, not even bothering to hide his smug grin. Before I could make a comment about it, he was off to another matter. The rest of the meeting flew by before my eyes, the standard updates and check-ins surprisingly comforting.
I liked being a god, that had never been at issue. I just had to get back to it.
Adrian was clapping his hands and signaling the end of the meeting in a blink. That also meant I had to tackle the other task for the day, which sent my stomach tightening.
As everyone stood to leave, a few came over and clapped me on the shoulder or said goodbye with a sly comment, but it was all too normal. Persy’s warning, backed by Adrian’s attitude, had worked, it seemed.
Once everyone had left, I looked to Luce, who seemed to already know what I was planning to do. I nodded at them, silently asking for a moment. They returned the nod, motioning for me to lead the way outside.
Good. I needed the sun for this. There was a large expanse of grass outside the Council room, backing up into cliffs that were still dusted with snow from the winter.
Luce trailed easily. They’d always been light on their feet, their spirit as high as their cheekbones and as bright as their blue-black hair, styled in short curls. When we finally made it outside and I got a breath of fresh air, I thought for a moment I could handle this.
“You don’t have to say it, you know,” Luce said, a laugh in their voice as I walked into the open field, covered in wildflowers.
“I really do, Luce,” I said, finally turning to them. A younger sibling I’d neglected for the better part of a decade, leaving them to deal with their grief over Penelope alone. “I handled this all wrong.”
Luce nodded. They were never the type to let me get away with anything. “You did. I really could have used you.”
Guilt twisted my stomach into a knot. “I was … they made it seem like it was his fault,” I said, not even bothering to explain that I meant my parents blamed Adrian. They knew. “And if that was the case, it made me think we could have done something.”
Luce breathed out, gazing into the distance with a far off look, like they could see Penelope in the moon, still hanging in the midday sky. “Maybe. I don’t think we’ll ever know if we could have done something for her. I think the better thing to do is honor her memory.”
I breathed out, grief joining the guilt. “She would fucking kill me for what I did to you,” I said, through a laugh.
Luce laughed as well, sounding for a moment like the young child I’d grown up with. “Always dramatic, Sebastian.” They stepped closer. “You have, and always will be, my big brother. Yes, you hurt me. Yes, I still think you’re an idiot for trying what you did against Adrian. But that won’t break down centuries of Apollo, Diana, and Artemis relationships on its own.”
Luce hugged me before I could stop them, wrapping their arms around me tight. “Let’s just move forward.”
“Okay,” I said, returning their hug, feeling like a teenager again.
When Luce pulled back, they narrowed their bright green eyes at me. “Besides, I’d like to reintroduce myself to Persy now that I know she has you wrapped around her finger.”
I opened my mouth to contradict that statement, but nothing came out.
“Aha!” Luce exclaimed, jumping back and pointing their finger at me in accusation. “I knew it!”
“Whatever,” I grumbled, refusing to give them an answer.
That only made Luce laugh harder, almost doubling over from the force of it. “Oh, Oracle help you.”
“She’s the one who started this.” Now I just had to say that, didn’t I?
Luce was crying now, they were laughing so hard. “I’m coming to Prometheus tomorrow. I have to see this in person.”
“You are welcome anytime,” I said. “But you have to be normal. She doesn’t return the sentiment.”
Luce stopped laughing, straightening, but didn’t say anything further. They just nodded slowly, like they communicated exactly what they were trying to say. “You tell me when, and I’d like to see your life there,” they said after a moment.
That I could handle. “I will,” I said, reaching out for a final hug. That wasn’t as brutal as I thought it would be. That had been happening a lot, people giving me grace.
It made me want to honor that gift. Rise to it and make sure it wasn’t in vein.
And it all started with Persy and a hand delivered meal, cradled in her perfect hands.