Chapter 33 #2
The courtyard itself was buzzing, though, according to Sephy, intimate by divine standards—maybe fifty guests scattered among artfully arranged tables draped with flowers.
Jasmine curled up the Grecian pillars that ringed the space, its sweetness riding the warm evening breeze, almost enough to make me lightheaded.
Torches burned pink flames at the top of each column—yes, pink, because apparently normal fire wasn’t pretty enough here—casting a glow that made the whole place shimmer in a dreamlike haze.
Between the flowers, the lights, and the perfectly placed ornamental trees, it was exquisite… almost too exquisite.
And yet, standing there in the middle of it, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Aphrodite’s court wasn’t just beautiful—it was a stage.
I muttered under my breath, ‘If this is the warm-up, I don’t even want to see her version of over the top.’
Si’s mouth twitched, that rare, dangerous almost-smile curving like he couldn’t help himself. He leaned just close enough for me to feel the heat of him and murmured, ‘Careful, little assassin. She might hear you.’
Sephy laughed, covering it badly with the back of her hand, amusement dancing in her eyes. Hades, on the other hand, lifted one regal brow, his entire expression the dictionary definition of disdain. One look from him and I snapped my mouth shut so fast my teeth clicked.
We moved down the marble steps and into the courtyard where some of the Underworld’s inner circle were already gathered, along with a few of Poseidon’s acolytes. Conversation buzzed, wine flowed, and somewhere in the corner, more laughter spilled like music.
We hadn’t even made it two steps into the courtyard before we were intercepted. Hecate, Thanatos, and Charon materialised from the crowd like shadows with wine glasses, each of them wearing expressions that ranged from amused to downright unreadable.
Hecate’s eyes, sharp and glinting with mischief, swept over me. Then she caught sight of the faint shimmer along my skin—the golden glow of Poseidon’s bond mark pulsing faintly, an aura beneath the torchlight.
‘Well, well,’ she drawled, her lips curving in a wicked smile. ‘So it’s true. The cantankerous sea god finally put his mark on someone. Poor Erebus—he’ll be devastated. He was already composing poetry about her hair.’
Poseidon stepped in close, his voice low and cutting, storm-dark eyes locked on Hecate. ‘Erebus can recite poetry to the shadows he crawled out of. Cordelia is mine.’
The last word rolled like thunder, final and absolute.
‘Possessive. How very on-brand for you,’ Hecate purred, sipping her wine with wicked amusement.
‘Protective,’ Poseidon corrected, his gaze never leaving hers. The storm in his eyes flickered, daring her to press further.
I groaned and threw up my hands. ‘Great. Keep this up, and we’ll end up on Olympus’s version of a reality show: Which God Owns the Mortal?’
Thanatos nearly choked on his drink, Charon muttered something about “always the drama,” and Hecate’s grin only sharpened.
Hades appeared at my shoulder then, looking as if he’d aged three centuries in three seconds.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled, long-suffering.
‘By all means, carry on. Perhaps you can start a brawl before the appetisers are served.’ At which point Sephy sucked in her cheeks, and I bit my lips to tamp down a grin.
Hermes and Dionysus joined our small circle, and I relaxed a tad; they were both great company, and the chatter was relaxing.
‘Cordelia, this is my partner, Hedone,’ Hecate said as the beautiful stranger tilted her head, studying me from head to toe in a way that made me shuffle like I’d just been caught skipping class.
Her eyes were incandescent amber, warm and watchful, seeming to see straight through me.
Her skin was a deep ochre kissed with orange-red undertones, glowing as though lit from within.
Black-as-midnight hair spilled in soft waves down to her waist, glossy enough to make a shampoo ad weep.
Hedone—goddess of pleasure, delight, and all the things polite people pretended they didn’t think about. Daughter of Eros and Psyche: love and soul. Which made her the living embodiment of sensuality itself. No pressure.
She turned out to be a riot and had us all laughing with stories about Sephy and her ball-busting attitude when Hades had kidnapped her. Sephy’s eyes gleamed with pride.
Si walked off deep in conversation with Hades, leaving a smug-looking Hecate sipping her wine, but as soon as her mouth curled into a devilish grin, I knew I was in for a treat.
A guy appeared looming in front of me; he looked like he’d been carved out of raw aggression and too many gym hours.
Blond buzzcut, jaw cut sharp enough to slice marble, shoulders broad and brutal as a battering ram.
His white shirt clung to muscles stacked in layers, and he radiated the kind of smug self-assurance that made me want to roll my eyes clean out of my skull.
‘Ugh,’ Sephy muttered. ‘That’s Ares.’
Ares. God of war. Super.
I stuck my hand out anyway, because manners. His grip swallowed mine, rough and unyielding, and he bent to press his mouth against my knuckles—lingering just long enough to make me want to bathe in antibacterial gel. I gave a subtle tug, reclaiming my hand.
‘Nice to meet you, Ares,’ I said, gracious enough for the crowd watching.
‘Likewise, Cordelia,’ he replied smoothly, though his grey eyes flicked over me like I was a shiny new weapon he was considering adding to his collection. The smirk playing at his mouth screamed jackass.
‘I hear you’re an assassin.’ His eyes glittered with something disturbingly close to delight. ‘Come and stand with me,’ he added, his tone leaving no room for refusal.
I blinked at him. ‘Tempting offer, but I’m allergic to testosterone overdoses. Bad for my skin.’
His smirk sharpened, amused rather than insulted, which somehow made him even more of an ass.
‘And I’m Apollo.’ The beautiful man elbowed Ares out of the way and offered me his hand.
Sephy shrieked and threw her arms around him, and he swung her around as she giggled.
Apollo—god of the sun, and a bunch of other things I couldn’t recall.
With his golden curls, boyish charm, and a smile bright enough to light the whole damn courtyard, he had a way of lifting my mood without even trying.
Talking to him felt effortless—slipping into sunlight after too long in the dark—and before I realised it, we’d all been chatting for ages.
The crowd stirred, and then applause rippled through the courtyard in a wave. I turned—and promptly forgot how to breathe, because striding down the steps towards us was the singular most stunning woman I’d ever laid eyes on.
Her hair shimmered in a thousand shades of gold, spun sunlight braided into silk.
Her skin glowed, warm and flawless, bronze dipped in starlight.
She was tall, willowy, and moved with the kind of elegance that made you want to hate her on principle—but good luck with that, because she was also captivating as hell.
She wore a gown of pale pink, so sheer it made my own evening gown look practically monastic.
The fabric clung to every inch of her, whisper-thin, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.
I could see the outline of her breasts, the curve of her hips—and, gods help me, if I looked any lower I was going to need holy water and therapy.
Every gaze in the courtyard followed her like moths tracking flame, and of course, she aimed herself straight at us.
‘Persephone, my darling.’ Her voice was low and sultry, honey with just enough gravel to scrape along your skin. She embraced Sephy warmly, then gave Poseidon and Hades the kind of nod that made two of the most powerful gods in existence look like footmen.
And then her eyes landed on me.
Heat crept up my neck. Fantastic. I, who had stared down assassins and monsters, was about to melt under the gaze of the goddess of love. I bobbed a little curtsy—awkward, too quick—and hoped to every deity present that my cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.
Her gaze lingered on me, a smile ghosting across her lips as though she could read every nervous thought running through my head.
‘You have the mark of a god, yet you’re not a goddess.’ Aphrodite purred, eyes glinting with amusement.
‘Nope,’ I said, too quickly, too bluntly. My mouth got ahead of me—as usual. ‘I’m an asshole.’
Sephy gasped, smacking my arm. ‘You’re not an asshole.’ She paused, then winced. ‘Well… not all the time.’
The goddess of love threw her head back and laughed, a sound rich and warm enough to make most of the men in the courtyard lean a little closer. Her smile lingered on me, though, all mischief and appraisal.
‘Oh, I do like her,’ Aphrodite said, her voice dripping with amusement as though we were her new favourite entertainment. ‘Sharp tongue, sharp eyes. No wonder Poseidon is in such turmoil.’
Before I could roll my eyes, a shadow fell across me. Si, as straight-faced as ever, slid in at my side as if he’d been waiting for this moment.
‘Cordelia,’ he said evenly, his hand brushing the small of my back, grounding me while his voice carried for the whole courtyard to hear, ‘my intended consort.’
The world tilted. My brain short-circuited. Consort?
My jaw might’ve actually dropped. No warning. No discussion. Just casually announcing it like we were at some divine press conference.
I managed a strangled, ‘Uh—what?’ under my breath, but he just stood there, all smug authority and ancient power. A pulse of heat shot through me, traitorous and wild. I wanted to slap him. Or kiss him. Or both, probably in that order.
Aphrodite’s smile went full cat-with-cream, and Sephy was definitely choking back laughter.
Fantastic. I was apparently engaged in front of half the pantheon and hadn’t even gotten a ring, a heads-up, or a glass of wine first.