3
Eros
Two weeks later
“Bring me her heart.”
“My chest is healed up just fine. Thanks for asking.” I don’t look up from my phone as my mother paces from one side of the room to the other, her skirt swishing about her legs. Knowing her, she chose her clothing today to maximize her dramatic flouncing.
She’s nothing if not a showwoman.
The phone isn’t the distraction I’d like it to be.
In the two weeks since the party, the speculation and gossip about me and Psyche Dimitriou hasn’t died down.
If anything, our refusal to make a public comment about it has only fanned the flames.
There’s nothing Olympus loves more than a good story, and the children of two public enemies hooking up is nothing if not a good story.
The truth doesn’t matter when there’s a compelling lie to be told.
Not to mention the photographer got a stellar shot.
In the picture, we’re standing so close, nearly in an embrace, and she’s looking up at me in question. And me? The look on my face can only be described as hungry . I wouldn’t have done something as foolish as to kiss Psyche in that hallway, but no one looking at our image will believe it.
“Stop playing with your phone and look at me.” My mother spins on her tall heel and glares down at me.
She’s fifty, and though she’d skin me alive for saying as much, no wrinkles or gray hair betray her.
She spends a fortune to keep her skin smooth and her hair a perfect icy blond.
Not to mention the countless hours with her personal trainer to accomplish a body twenty-year-olds would kill for.
All in the name of her title, Aphrodite.
When one has the role of the matchmaker of Olympus—the peddler of love—one must meet certain expectations.
“Eros, put down that godsdamned phone and listen to me.”
“I’m listening.” My bored tone betrays my waning patience, but I’m already tired of this conversation. We’ve had some variation of it about a dozen times in the last two weeks. “I already told you what really happened.”
“No one cares what really happened.” She’s almost screeching now, her carefully curated smoky tones going high and sharp. “They are dragging your name through the mud by attaching it to that upstart’s daughter.”
I don’t point out that the title Aphrodite has no more legacy than Demeter’s.
The only titles in Olympus that pass from parent to child are Zeus, Hades, and Poseidon.
The rest of the Thirteen come to them as adults, in ways both aboveboard and clandestine.
My mother can’t stand the fact that she was appointed by the last Aphrodite, while Demeter was chosen through a citywide election.
The people chose Demeter, and she’s never let my mother forget it.
“It won’t be long before the next scandal hits. Just be patient.”
“ You don’t tell me what to do, Son. I give the orders, and you obey.” She stops in front of me and glares. “This is your mess. If you’d done the last job properly, you wouldn’t have been photographed with that girl .”
“Mother.” I don’t know why I’m arguing. Once my mother goes on a rampage, it’s all but impossible to divert her.
It’s one of the reasons people step so carefully around her.
Even I have to step carefully around her.
She might present our relationship to the public as adoring mother and loyal son, but the truth is far less appealing.
I am Aphrodite’s knife. She tells me where to go, what revenge to exact, and I follow along like a fucked-up toy soldier.
My input is never asked for and sure as fuck never heeded.
I told her that we needed to wait to deal with Polyphonte instead of rushing into things the night of that party, but Aphrodite pushed the subject.
She always pushes the fucking subject.
“Her heart, Eros. Do not make me ask again.”
I swallow back my irritation, but only barely. “You’re going to have to be more specific, Mother. Do you literally want her heart? Do you have a silver box all picked out for it? Maybe you can stick it on your mantel next to my graduation photo.”
She makes a sound suspiciously like a hiss. “You are such a little shit.” This is the Aphrodite she doesn’t show anyone else in Olympus. Only I get the dubious privilege of witnessing what a monster my mother truly is.
But then, I’m not one to throw stones on that subject.
I don’t see a single scale or fang.
I nearly flinch at the memory of Psyche’s soft voice. I really thought she was smarter than that; she’d have to be a fool to move in nearly the same circles I have for ten years and not call me a monster.
I make a show of turning off my phone screen and giving my mother my full attention. “You’ve decided on this course of action, so don’t be shy now.”
Another person would flinch in the face of my mild tone with the threat of violence threaded beneath it.
Aphrodite just laughs. “Eros, darling, you really are too much. After that stunt Demeter pulled last fall with her other daughter and Hades, she really thinks she can bypass me completely and set up Psyche as the next Hera. Over my dead body. Or, rather, over hers .”
My chest goes strangely tight, but I ignore it. “If you’re so furious at Demeter, then do something about her, rather than the daughter.”
“You know better.” She flicks that away with her fingertips. “Both mother and daughter need to be taught a lesson. Demeter has been throwing her weight around, thinking she’s anything other than a glorified farmer. This will bring her down a notch.”
Only my mother would consider the death of a child to be bringing someone down a notch.
But then, she’ll do anything to maintain her power.
Aphrodite is responsible for a number of things, but her most popular task is arranging marriage between the rich and elite within Olympus.
The Thirteen and their families, yes, but also those in the wider circle of influence that never quite make it into the parties at Dodona Tower.
With Demeter inching in on her territory, it’s no wonder my mother’s head is about to explode.
She arranged all three marriages for the last Zeus—the fucker kept killing off his wives, which suited my mother quite nicely as she loves a wedding and hates everything that follows.
Securing a new Hera for the new Zeus is her top priority, and it seems like Demeter is determined to launch Psyche into the position of Hera without consulting Aphrodite.
I try to picture it, but my mind rebels at the thought. All I can see is the line of concentration between Psyche’s brows as she bandaged me up. Surely someone foolish enough to show kindness to the son of their enemy is the same kind of someone who will be eaten alive in the position of Hera.
I clear my throat. “How’s Zeus doing these days?
Does he not like any of your eligible options?
” Up until a few months ago, he was Perseus, but names are the first thing sacrificed at the altar of the Thirteen.
Once upon a time, we were friends, but Olympian life has a way of forcing people apart.
The older we got, the more Perseus became embroiled in training to become the next Zeus.
And me? Well, my life took an equally dark path.
We’re still friends, I guess, but there’s a distance there that neither of us can quite recover.
I don’t even know where to begin to try.
I let the thought drift away. Perseus has been Zeus’s heir for his entire life.
He knew he’d take the title when his father died.
If it happened a bit earlier than anyone expected…
well, he’s more than capable of handling it.
It’s not my problem. It can’t be my problem. After all, I didn’t kill the man.
“Don’t change the subject,” she snaps. “Ever since Persephone ran off and shacked up with Hades, Olympus is unbalanced. Now Demeter thinks she’s going to pair up another daughter with another legacy position?
What’s next? Marrying off that feral older daughter of hers to Poseidon?
” She huffs. “I think not. Someone needs to check Demeter, and if no one else will step up, then we’ll have to. ”
“You mean I’ll have to. You might be demanding a heart, but we both know that I’m the one doing all the work.
” I have no desire for someone to start calling for my head, so I try to keep the murders to a minimum.
It’s so much easier to remove an opponent with a well-placed rumor or simply observe them until their own actions provide the ammunition for their downfall.
Olympus is filled to the brim with sin, if one believes in that sort of thing, and no one in the Thirteen’s shining circle is without their fair share of vices.
Except, apparently, Demeter’s daughters.
They’ve tried hard to stay out of the spotlight, and it even worked…
at least up until a few months ago. Ever since the old Zeus decided he wanted Persephone for his own—for all the good that did him—Olympus has gone rabid for the Dimitriou sisters.
After all, Persephone’s story seems like an epic one for the ages, the kind of shit the gossip sites eat right up.
Zeus drove her right into Hades’s arms, which in turn brought Hades out of the shadows of the lower city. No one saw that coming.
Zeus and the rest of the upper city like to pretend Olympus stops at the River Styx.
Hades was something of a dirty little secret only the Thirteen and a few choice others had knowledge of.
Now he’s out in the open and the entire power balance of Olympus is in flux.
It will be months yet before things settle, possibly longer.