Chapter 49 The Prodigal Son #2
‘Really?’ her voice quivered, low and dangerous.
‘Or is it that there are no more apples for you to give?’ Outside, a cloud drifted above the window, and the light dimmed.
She shivered, ready for the violence she always waited for.
‘Gold that grows bears no fruit … You may keep the tree hidden, but you cannot hide the truth from me. It has been centuries since you gave Hermes his apple. It was rotting, its gold dull. I always wondered why you made him divine at such a young age … It was the last fruit the tree bore, wasn’t it? ’
She tensed, waiting for the inevitable explosion.
Zeus stared at her then lowered his gaze to the child. He reached out to brush a curl from the boy’s forehead. ‘You came with news.’
Hera sagged, steadying herself against a pillar.
‘Did you not hear what I said?’
‘Deliver your news or be gone.’
She drew a breath. ‘Metis is dead.’
Zeus stiffened.
Hera wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, the lie she had practised tumbling from her lips, ‘Poseidon told me he planned to fly to Delos in search of Prometheus’ girl, for he believed Metis might aid her.
Forgive me, I know you cared for the woman.
I wished to shield our brother from your anger, so I kept his secret.
But when he did not return, I flew to the island myself.
’ She paused. ‘Poseidon has vanished, his sea-monster slain, and I discovered Metis’ body buried beneath a heap of stones …
Who else could have done this but the Titan girl? ’
Zeus’ chest heaved. He rose to his feet, his gold-flecked eyes clouding like a storm-swathed sky. Hera was struck by the strange urge to grab the child and run before he could unleash his fury and destroy the room.
‘Metis, Hades, Persephone,’ he said slowly, his former love’s name weighted with just as much reverence as his brother and niece.
‘Yes,’ whispered Hera, tears escaping down her cheeks.
Zeus nodded to himself, focusing on the child at his feet. He placed a hand on the boy’s head and ruffled his curls. A smile played about his lips.
Heart drumming, Hera took a step forward. ‘One of your brothers is slain, the other vanished. At this very moment your children are scattered across Greece searching for the girl. If they find her, they might well meet the same fate. What will you do?’
Zeus tilted the boy’s chin. ‘I failed with Perseus and Heracles; I will not make the same mistake with you.’
‘Zeus?’
The King of the Gods lifted the child into his arms. The boy laughed.
‘Do not shut me out,’ Hera whispered. ‘Not now.’
His gaze snapped to her. ‘You forget that I made you, I made all of you. I am master of the Hesperides tree. I am the one who brought you to the holy mountain and fed each of you an apple. Every Olympian life is mine.’
‘Then how did she gain her powers?’ Hera whispered, finally daring to ask the question that had gnawed at her ever since the girl had destroyed the oracle at Delphi.
A shadow passed over her husband’s face.
She sucked in a breath. ‘You really don’t know, do you?’
Zeus set down the boy and prowled towards her. Hera backed away until her shoulders bashed against the cool marble of a pillar. Zeus pinned her to the stone, taking her face in his hands. She shuddered as he pressed his lips to her mouth.
‘I remember the first day I saw you,’ he said against her skin. ‘A terrified little thing. Helpless and alone. Who dried your tears, Hera? Who begged their parents to take you in?’
Hera shuddered.
‘Who vanquished their monstrous father so we might rise up from the dirt?’
‘He wasn’t monstrous,’ Hera breathed.
‘Say that again,’ Zeus said softly.
Hera’s courage failed her.
‘Without me, there are no gods.’ He released her, the imprint of his fingers stinging like a scald. He smiled. ‘Do not fear, my queen, one of my children will be our salvation.’
‘Which one?’ Hera rasped.
‘The one that survives.’
Before she could respond, the peals of a bell rang through the sky palace. For a wild moment, Hera could not remember what the sound signalled; it had been so long since she’d heard it.
A guard flung open the door. ‘Your divine majesties, Argus, the watchman, has rung –’
‘That much is clear,’ said Zeus, striding towards the door as a couple of the blue-clothed nymphs darted inside to tend to the child. ‘Why?’
‘Someone has arrived on Pegasus.’
‘Poseidon?’ Hera ran after her husband.
‘No, my queen,’ the guard replied as the three of them paced down the pillared corridor, ‘a mortal.’
Hera’s mouth tightened, her mind whirling with possibilities. It was forbidden on pain of death for mortals to approach Olympus unless escorted by one of the Twelve. Who in all the world would dare to break their sacred rule?
Hera’s blood was pounding by the time they emerged onto a cloud-swathed terrace, lined with rows of trimmed cypress trees, a gilded fountain pouring intricate swirls of water along rivets in the stone floor.
Surrounded by a ring of spear-wielding guards was Poseidon’s snow-white horse, Pegasus. The beast Hera had lost after her altercation with the Titan girl on the Caucasus Mountains. She moved closer, eager to see who it was that knelt upon the floor.
‘Step back,’ Zeus commanded the guards.
They obeyed, and Hera gasped.
The man raised his grizzled head, the effort of that alone sending tremors through his emaciated frame. He looked at them through eyes of sea, sunk into shadowy sockets. He was so changed, Hera almost didn’t recognize him. Almost.
Heracles’ gaze settled on Zeus, then his cracked lips parted to croak one word.
‘Father.’