Chapter 53 All Fired Up
I JUMP BACK WITH A startled scream, terrified that I’ve set the entire Athena table on fire.
Thankfully, nothing else catches fire—not even the tablecloth—and the crown itself burns fast and hot before it crumbles into a pile of smoldering ash. Only the tiny little owl is left. I think about trying to retrieve it, but it’s ruined for me now, anyway.
Plus, all the students on this side of the table are staring at me. Even worse, their shock is giving way to understanding, and it only takes a few seconds before they start pointing and laughing at the girl who had her gift rejected by Athena in the most spectacularly horrific way possible.
I knew Athena hadn’t chosen me for her hall, but there’s a long way from that to hating someone so much that you destroy their gift the moment they give it to you. Tears flood my eyes—part hurt, part embarrassment—and all I can think about is getting back to my table—and my friends.
But Rhea has other ideas. My brother’s new best friend and maybe girlfriend just happened to be sitting directly across from where I tried to put the crown down. And she isn’t about to let my utter humiliation pass without taking a swipe at me.
I’ve just started backing away when she springs up from the table and walks around the end to plant herself right in front of me.
“By the gods, you’re pathetic,” she sneers, stopping me in my tracks.
“Pathetic Penelope, so jealous of her brother and the rest of the Athenas that she has to come over here and beg for our attention. Only you’re too pathetic to even do that right, isn’t that so? ”
“I wasn’t trying—”
“Don’t lie!” she snarls. “We all saw you trying to get Athena to notice you.”
“I just wanted to give her a gift—”
“Is that what that thing was?” Her laugh is cruel. “No wonder it burst into flames. Why would she want a gift from anyone as pathetic as you?”
“That’s enough,” a familiar voice says from behind me.
Shock shoots through me at the sound, and I whirl around to make sure I’m not mishearing things.
It turns out I’m not, because Kyrian is standing right behind me, glaring at Rhea. I’m so shocked to see him here—and in an actual uniform, complete with a black brocade tie—that all I can do is stare up at him with my mouth open.
Which makes him grin, even as he taps a fingertip on his chin—a silent reminder to close my gaping mouth. One I appreciate, considering it’s just another thing for Rhea to use against me.
But she’s not looking at me now. She’s staring at Kyrian with wide eyes and bright pink cheeks. “Who are you?” she demands.
“Someone you don’t want to piss off,” he answers with that lopsided grin that always does funny things to my stomach and my knees.
“Hey, don’t talk to her like that.” Suddenly Paris is on his feet too. But he’s defending Rhea from Kyrian.
Hurt slams through me. He’s my brother, my twin brother, and yet he stayed silent when she was going after me. But one harsh word from Kyrian aimed at Rhea—to defend me—and suddenly Paris is willing to get involved.
It’s awful. Embarrassing and hurtful and absolutely awful. What changed since he became an Athena? I know we’ve grown apart these last few months, but I never would have imagined he would take someone else’s side against me. Especially when that someone is a real jerk.
“What’s happened to you?” I whisper, completely blown away by this new version of my twin.
For one startled second, Paris’s eyes meet mine. Something sparks in their depths, but it’s gone so fast I don’t even have time to identify it. And then he’s glaring at me, just like Rhea. “Go back to your table, Penelope. You don’t belong here.”
He isn’t as loud as Rhea, or quite as mean, but his words cut me so much more deeply. Partly because I’m afraid he’s right and partly because he knows just how hurtful they are to me.
This time I can’t blink the tears back and I whirl away, unwilling to give Rhea or Paris the satisfaction of knowing they hurt me. And just that thought—just the idea that my brother actually wanted to hurt me—nearly brings me to my knees.
“Hey.” Kyrian grabs my upper arms to steady me. “Are you okay? Don’t worry about what some jerk says—”
“That jerk is my brother,” I whisper.
Kyrian’s grip loosens, his face going slack with shock at my words. So I take advantage of it, breaking free and running toward the nearest exit as fast as my wobbly knees can carry me. Thankfully, the rain finally stopped a little while ago.
“Penelope, wait.” Kyrian follows me, but I throw an arm out, gesturing for him to stop.
“Leave me alone,” I tell him. “Just for a few minutes. Please.”
His face clouds up at my words, his eyes turning the dark green of a forest at midnight. But he doesn’t argue with me. Just says, “Okay,” and steps back. “But only for a few minutes.”
I nod and then slip through the curtain of fairy lights and run straight out into the night.
I don’t stop until I get to the cluster of bushes that surrounds the amphitheater. Only then do I let the tears fall freely as I try to process my brother’s betrayal.
“Hey, Penelope. What’s going on? Are you all right?”
I turn to find PT standing next to me, a lighter in his hand and a concerned look on his face.
“I’m fine,” I tell him, dashing the tears away.
“You sure?” His kind eyes study my face. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Not unless you want to help me kick my brother in the privates,” I sigh.
“Ah, sibling trouble. I know it well.” He nods to the bench a few feet away. “Want to sit down and tell me all about it?”
“Not really.”
“Fair enough.” He grins. “Want to sit down and talk about something totally unrelated? I’m not feeling so great and could use a little rest.”
“What’s wrong?” I step back and look him over from head to toe. “Are you sick?”
“Nah, just tired.” He moves to the bench, and for the first time, I realize he’s favoring his right side.
“Did you pull a muscle?” I ask as I sit down next to him.
He puts a hand to his side. “Something like that.”
“Do you want me to get Dr. Henning? I saw her in the Stoa—”
“This isn’t anything she can help me with,” he answers, and it occurs to me that he looks a lot more tired than he usually does. And also, his bun has slid halfway down the side of his head. “Now, why don’t you tell me what your brother did to get you so upset?”
“I’d rather you tell me how you hurt your side,” I counter. “It seems a lot more serious than what my brother did to me.”
“I don’t know about that. This is just an old injury. I’ve had it for centuries.”
“Oh, I’m—” I freeze. Wait, did he just say “centuries”?
“Mine’s not important,” he continues. He holds up the hand he was just resting on his side, and fire dances along his fingertips. “It seems to me that yours is brand new.”
For a second, I’m too transfixed by the flames just hanging out there on his skin to register anything else. But then I notice there’s blood on his fingertips, just beneath the flames.
And just like that, it all comes together for me.
PT.
The fire in the cauldron he keeps trying to relight.
The blood.
The pain in his right side, right where his liver is.
The injury he’s had for centuries.
Suddenly his kind, tired eyes and that COEXIST necklace of his make a lot more sense.
Because PT isn’t just a donut salesman and a terrible cauldron-repair guy. He’s a Titan. In fact, as far as humanity is concerned, he’s probably the most important Titan.
He’s the person who created us. The person who gave us fire. The person who has spent an eternity of nights chained to a rock as a giant bird ate his liver as punishment for his gift to humankind.
And he’s also the person Pandora and her box were created to punish.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were Prometheus?” I whisper.