13. Where The Plan Finally Comes Together （And The Empress Realizes Too Late That She Had The Power All Along…）
WHERE THE PLAN FINALLY COMES TOGETHER (AND THE EMPRESS REALIZES TOO LATE THAT SHE HAD THE POWER ALL ALONG…)
The gala was one for the books. At least, that’s what it was advertised as. Zeus was pulling out all the stops. The best wine, the best liquor, the Michelin star chefs, the decor, and the orchestra, the entertainment fit for the Gods.
Hera looked around the massive ballroom and was tempted to reach for the lighter in her clutch. One tiny little flicker, and the entire thing would go up in flames. Now, that would be entertainment.
He gave her a careful look when she arrived, mostly observing the fact that she had nobody on her arm. Hera chose not to rise to the bait, knowing what was in store for him tonight. Or what was in store for her tonight, for that matter.
The thought left her oddly numb, but for one strange emotion she was unaccustomed to dealing with.
Regret.
She had spent the week with Nemesis. In bed.
In the kitchen, where neither of them was particularly adept at cooking, the endeavors were passable and hot, and the sex was hotter.
At Central Park, where Nemesis played volleyball with the bears who delighted in winning.
Hera had sat on a fluffy blanket and pretended to be reading and not watching the game at all.
They spent their evenings discussing the minutiae of the plan. Hera found herself pretending there as well. Pretending she actually cared.
It was that revelation that made her sink deep into this unfamiliar territory.
Regret.
Eons spent plotting. Millenia wasted on bitterness. And she could’ve been doing this. Nemesis. Warm blankets. Her bears singing quietly in the background as they went about their day.
Hera almost jumped as a touch landed on her shoulder.
“Sister. Melancholy tonight, I take it.”
Hera returned the hug and shook her head. Her tears were too close. And her sister was too near. Words would fail her, she knew.
“I think he will want to propose. And I am strangely afraid of it.” Demeter’s hand did not leave Hera’s skin.
“Why afraid?” Hera snagged another flute from the passing server. She wasn’t sure she wanted Demeter to continue speaking.
“What will happen to you?”
Hera moved her shoulders restlessly. It had taken all of the surrounding her posse this long to stumble over this little nugget of paramount importance.
What did actually happen to the discarded wives who still carried symbolic titles once the husbands took new ones?
Why had nobody asked who’d assume the real crowns?
Hera wanted to scream the question in Demeter’s face. She wanted to throw it on the floor and watch it break into a million pieces. Wanted everyone to cut their feet on the sharpness of their edges.
Instead, she merely shrugged. It wasn’t Demeter’s fault nobody gave a flying fuck about Hera, or Hera’s fake royalty, or the fate of it once a new Empress was crowned.
And speaking of fate. Hera patted Demeter’s trembling fingers and moved farther into the ballroom. The Fates had been invited; Zeus always extended the courtesy. And Hera had double checked, just to make sure. It would be her last gala, her last day in fact, if the plan did come together.
She wondered if the Fates would give her any time, or if it would be over the moment Zeus’s heart would break.
As Nemesis came into view, Hera felt the ice around her own heart give a painful thump.
That strange and aching feeling rose in her throat.
Hera would miss her. This wild, implacable, righteous being who held her in cold hands and yet gave her the most warmth Hera had ever felt in her long-wasted life.
As if catching her staring, Nemesis looked her way and lifted a champagne flute in a salute. Hera smiled, trying to hide the burning in her eyes. In her chest. The die had been cast, the deal had been made, the thread of her life had been measured. The Implacable had only to cut it.
“You are awfully pensive for someone about to see her life’s work hit its apogee.”
“You and your long words, Muse.”
Clio shrugged and smirked.
“I find that most don’t understand short words either. They hear what they want anyway.”
“Are we talking about humans?”
“Humans, gods, not so different. We just wallow in our miseries longer.” Clio cleared her throat and turned to face Hera fully. “What is this I hear about Artemis needing help, Your Majesty?”
Her tone was slightly strained, and Hera had to bite the inside of her cheek to hide her smirk.
“Just a small favor I require. I imagine it’s nothing you, of all the Muses, cannot handle.”
Clio’s gaze was razor sharp.
“Of all the muses? Who else did you ask?”
Hera’s inner glee rose exponentially.
Why were all these deities so easy? Fun, but easy.
“Oh, just a few others. Are you concerned the muses of the arts will outpace you when it comes to matters of the heart? After all, you and Athena did fail…”
Hera let the sting of the jab work silently and watched Clio’s eyes darken.
“No, no. I’ll do it. I told Nemesis I would. Stop asking the artsy muses. They’re all airheads anyway. Artemis is too… serious for them.” The muse turned a second before Hera registered the commotion. Someone was screaming on the other side of the ballroom.
“Helios, they really can’t invite anyone anywhere anymore.
” Clio shook her head and departed, looking determined to investigate.
Hera dampened the impulse to follow. Nemesis didn’t need more audience for her nefarious plans.
And Hera felt slightly nauseous just thinking that she would be seducing Zeus’s girlfriend right about now.
Turned out, she did not need to move, as the ruckus came to her instead.
“For crying out loud, would you for once do as I say!” Zeus, in all his raging glory, stopped dead in his tracks as the person he was pursuing took the spot Clio had recently vacated next to Hera.
His face underwent an entire array of transformations before settling on a surprised expression.
“Hera.”
She merely glanced at him, then looked back to the wide ballroom in front of her.
If not for Sabine Goddard breathing heavily by her side, she’d feel no need to even acknowledge his presence.
As it was, Hera chose to twine her arm with Sabine’s.
As signals went, it was a lighthouse beam, and Zeus’s distrust turned back to rage.
“So you are behind this! I should have known!”
“I have no Earthly nor Olympic idea what you’re yelling about, and if you don’t lower your voice and change your tone, I’ll not speak to you at all.”
She felt Sabine’s fingers tighten on her forearm. Still, her words must’ve been warning enough. Zeus settled down, visibly deflating.
“Hera, can you please demand that this damn cupid undo whatever it was she did with Nemesis and my future wife?”
Hera waited for the pain of confirmation to hit her in the chest. Instead, she looked on, a sensation of total calm descending upon her.
The Fates must be near. It was probably what dying felt like.
Being utterly indifferent to your husband marrying someone else.
And why was Nemesis targeted by arrows? Surely Sabine would not?
Belatedly, it occurred to Hera that she had allowed the Cupid enough leeway in their plan that the Queen of the Perfect Match could’ve very well shot her… Vengeance.
“Cupid! Explain yourself! Did your arrow hit Nemesis?” Hera whirled on the expressionless Sabine, who merely smiled.
“It did not.”
Hera stared. Zeus growled. Sabine smiled wider. “Well, it wasn’t for lack of trying, but she did something I’ve never witnessed before. She caught the love arrow mid-flight and broke it into pieces. It was impressive. And hot.”
Aphrodite was suddenly by her side.
“I can attest to the hot.”
“So who shot Nemesis? And who shot me? I think someone did, because I feel… I feel faint. And wrong. I have been feeling wrong for some time! Months!” Zeus was all but purple now, his eyes unfocused.
“Who shot, who shot, who shoooooooot!” The bears picked up the question and sang it to the tune of I Shot the Sheriff. Hera would’ve laughed if not for the sickening suspicion that she had just done something that could never be undone.
Unlike Zeus and his penchant for ignoring the Cupids and manipulating Aphrodite, Hera knew the true power of those pesky feathery sticks.
She had blessed many a marriage built on those matches.
If Nemesis had been shot, had Zeus’s intended been the other target?
She shivered, and the thousands of candles illuminating the ballroom flickered out.
Hera inhaled deeply and waved her fingers.
The candles did not catch fire. She felt her hands grow cold.
Her vision wavered at the corners. Sabine’s hand on her forearm was suddenly joined by Aphrodite’s.
Hera took another steadying breath, her vision cleared, and she waved her fingers again.
The wicks sprang to life, the ballroom alight once again.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nemesis lean down toward the smiling, clearly enamored blonde.
Hera trembled. Aphrodite wrapped an arm around her.
Athena, perhaps catching some of the undercurrent—the Goddess of Wisdom could sometimes be slow, especially in the company of her very, very pregnant wife—finally chose to speak up.
“And here I was wondering what had gotten into you that night, my darling wife. Sabine, are you sure you hadn’t simply missed?”
“I very much intended to shoot Nemesis. I just couldn’t. Not for lack of trying.” Sabine’s smile was sly.
“So Nemesis was never pierced by a Cupid’s arrow?” Hera felt it necessary to cover all the semantics.
“I did not say that.” Sabine looked around, and her smirk grew warmer.
“She can’t say that, because while she missed—wow, never thought I’d be in the situation to state that about my wife—I didn’t. Nemesis didn’t see my arrow. No disrespect, I’m sure she’d have caught it otherwise.”
Abby Angellini-Goddard glided closer and kissed her wife gently on the lips before nodding to their present company.