13. Chapter 13
Chapter thirteen
Theron
I t didn’t take many strides away from Correlia’s cottage before Theron realized he had no bloody clue where to go. He stalked the area around her house, far enough away that she wouldn’t see him once she emerged. He stayed hidden in the trees, realizing he didn’t care for the birds chirping but could get used to the sweet smell of sap sticking to the bark beneath his fingertips.
He leaned against the tree with a sigh. What’s taking her so long? He tried adjusting his position, but the moment he shifted, the cloak pushed awkwardly against his throat. He turned to find the brown fabric snagged in the peeling bark of the tree. “Perfect,” he grumbled, tugging at the cloth with a tiny ounce of strength he’d thought was gentle enough. But when an unsettling rip tore through the air, he winced and raised the now-tattered cloth to eye level.
A door creaked open, and a nervous chill shot through Theron as he whipped the torn cloak behind him like a child hiding a stolen sweet. At first, he saw no one, and then a glimmering figure dressed all in silver appeared like a flicker of light. His breath stilled. Her rose-gold hair was pinned in intricate knots on the back of her head, save for two soft tresses framing her freckled face in casual elegance. She looked more than a mere goddess. She was the moon on a dark, dreary night.
The trance she placed him under made him momentarily forget to follow her, until her figure was nearly out of sight. He quickly weaved through the trees, keeping his eyes on her the entire way. It was easy not to think and wonder as he focused merely on her image, but the journey to the coronation was long. He, unfortunately, had the time to wonder. To think.
Why would she invite someone like me?
Unease settled through him, sweat forming in his palms. He stopped. Maybe this is a trick. Maybe she’s leading me into a trap.
His heart pounded, and the thoughts continued piling into his mind, swarming messily and aggressively on top of each other. “Of course it’s a trap. Why wouldn’t it be?”
A lump formed in his throat. He’d be stupid to follow her there.
But . . . on the off-chance this wasn’t a trap—that she actually did want to invite him—wouldn’t he want to take the risk?
His eyes found her shimmering form again.
Without a second thought, he took another step.
Corre
What am I doing? This is a mistake.
A knot formed in the pit of her stomach. She focused on her feet as they led her to the coronation. Guilt swirled in her gut. What if something happens because I invited him?
Her heart raced. So much could go wrong. She truly was as reckless as her mother accused her of being. When something rustled behind her, she jumped and glanced over her shoulder. No one was there. She scanned the area for any trace of the God of the Underworld, but there was no one. Maybe he decided against it. Her shoulders dropped in disappointment, but she quickly corrected herself. It's for the best .
She thought of his face. The mystery behind his gaze and how he never hurt her—how he came up from the Underworld simply to speak with her.
Her heart quickened in her chest. She pushed the thoughts aside. Don’t be stupid, Corre. It could be part of a long, elaborate plan . But for what? What could he gain from hurting her? She wasn’t Zeus or Hera or even Artemis. Her duties were benign compared to the others. What reason would he have to hurt her?
The stories of Hades always made him out to be a vicious killer with no humanity, but the way he looked at himself in the mirror was so innocent. So guileless. When he wasn’t dressed to intimidate, he looked like everyone else. Corre was never one to blindly believe stories, but that's what got her into this mess. Maybe everyone was right. Maybe she was naive.
She chewed on her lower lip, hoping she was wrong about that but right about inviting him. He deserved an invitation like all the others, didn’t he?
Despite her justifications, thoughts of destruction and endless worst-case scenarios tormented her the whole way there.
She was stupid for doing this.
No, she wasn't.
Of course she was.
No, he has done nothing to show the stories about him are true. Hasn’t Mother always taught me to judge people on their actions?
Every time she thought it was wrong and that something bad would happen, she remembered how normal he looked when he saw himself in that mirror. The unguarded sadness in his eyes before she invited him in. I guess I'll just have to see what happens , she thought, but guilt tightened the knot in her gut. Maybe having him meet me there was the right call after all. I can keep an eye on him.
When she neared the slope leading up to the Square, she could see the top half of Zeus’s castle, and for some reason, it put her at ease. Could she really believe stories that originated from such luxury? Everyone said Zeus was a great god. Charismatic and caring. But she'd only met him once, and just like the stories about Hades, she wasn't sure what to believe. Not anymore.
From what she understood, Zeus was largely the one who explained who Theron was to the others on Olympus—how terrible Hades was and how he should be avoided—but it was hard for Corre to believe everything was so cut and dry. That the leader in this mansion touching the sky was to be revered, while the unknown, young god living in Tartarus should be feared.
She wondered if she was judging Zeus too harshly. After all, it was the Titans who’d given him the luxuries he now lived in. Maybe he didn't have a say in his castle or the affairs of the gods. Maybe she wanted someone else to blame other than herself, just in case her invitation was the worst mistake anyone had ever made.
The hard truth was that there was too much she didn't know, and it was making her head hurt. There was nothing she could do now, though, so she might as well move forward and keep an eye on Theron. It shouldn't be hard to find him once he arrived. He was the tallest Great One she'd ever seen. She just hoped no one else would notice his stature and look too closely at his face.
The lively chatter of Olympus was the first indication that the coronation had already begun. Corre heard laughs and the jubilant singing of whatever gods were invited. At first, she was relieved, as there appeared to be more gods than the Great Ones in attendance, but upon closer inspection, she wasn't sure if that was the case. There were countless unknown faces, but each was adorned with jewels, their bodies dressed in fine silks and fabrics that the non-appointed gods could never afford. Maybe they were the second-tier Great Ones. What were they called? Were they considered ‘common gods’? Corre hated the hierarchy, but she wanted to understand how it all worked and who everyone was.
"Welcome!" A golden-haired goddess in bright purple robes greeted Corre as she made her way through an arch of silvery vines ornamented with gemstones of every color. The archway looked magical with its garnets and emeralds, sapphires and onyx. An awe-inspiring, iron rainbow.
"Hello," Corre replied feebly. The girl smiled hazily, and though her eyes were staring right into Corre’s, they looked far away and covered in glass. She was clearly intoxicated.
"Help yourself to the feast and drinks at the base of Zeus’s castle. The rest of the festivities are set up all along the square and up the mountain at various booths." She rattled on about the different activities and features at each one. By the end, her words slurred, and she giggled.
"I'm sure I'll find my way," Corre said with an awkward laugh. "Thank you."
"Of course! Oh, welcome!" The girl said to the next visitor.
"Hello," a deep voice purred. Corre’s stomach dropped. She waited an agonizingly long moment before surreptitiously looking over her shoulder. "Correlia."
She shot him a glare. "How did you get here so fast?"
He smiled beneath the hood of the borrowed cloak. "Years of training."
She glanced around to see if anyone had noticed something off about the tall god, but luckily most of them were too drunk to care. Her shoulders relaxed.
"Well . . ." She looked around again. What am I supposed to do now? Spend time with him? I didn't think this through. She wrung her hands.
"Why don't we get a drink?" He gestured to the long table with the same jewel-crested adornments as the silvery entryway.
"Okay, but you can go on your own to the booths, you know. You don't have to follow me around."
"Don't you want my company?" The seductive drawl in his voice made her stomach knot again, only this time it was for a different reason.
"Not particularly."
He laughed. "May I remind you that you invited me here?"
"No, you may not.”
He flashed her a wicked smile and held out his hand. "Come on. There's no harm in a drink."
I'm not so sure. "Fine. But then you can examine an Olympus party on your own and head back to Tartarus." She pushed past him, ignoring his hand and not waiting for a reply. She needed a drink just as much as anyone here. Probably more.
The music grew louder as she walked deeper into the festivities toward where the drinks were being offered. Gods on lyres and drunk groups singing off-key bumbled around the large turquoise fountain in the middle of the Square. The noise intensified the more Corre thought about Theron following close behind. She couldn’t hear the blood pounding in her ears.
Everything was too loud, going too fast. She moved quicker, picking up her pace until she made it to the golden table adorned with chalices. “Wow,” she breathed, though she couldn’t hear herself over the noise. The table stretched across half of the Square, every inch of its surface covered in jeweled goblets with different elixirs sitting inside. Some liquids were a dark burgundy, others ice pink, some brown, mauve, violet, opal—some were too far away to see.
“What are these?” she asked the plump, ember-haired goddess filling a cluster of goblets across from her. When the goddess didn’t look up, Corre repeated herself louder.
“These?” The redhead finally said. “The finest elixirs my dear. Whatever you could ever want is in these cups.” She gave Corre a wink, but the answer was too ominous for her liking. Did some make you too uninhibited? Would she drink the wrong one and do something stupid? Even more stupid than inviting Hades to a party on Olympus? She grimaced. Yes, she’d already done something outrageously stupid today, but she didn’t feel like adding to it.
“Which ones are safe?” she shouted above the noise, pointing at the goblets.
“Oh, all of them, dear!” The goddess continued pouring, then turned around to fill a pitcher with more curious liquid from one of many diamond-encrusted vats.
Corre groaned. How was she supposed to enjoy herself here if she didn’t know what was safe?
“That’s a good one!” The goddess said to someone next to Corre. She looked to her left and saw Theron chugging one of the liquids in one go.
Her eyes widened. “What are you doing? You don’t even know what’s in that one!”
When the goblet left his lips, he cast her an impish smile. “What are you worried about, Correlia? Afraid I might make a fool of myself here? Or worse?” She couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but she didn’t like it. She crossed her arms and tried to come up with something to say. Before she could, he laughed. “It’s Olympian fig tree wine,” he said, placing the empty goblet on the table. The goddess with the pitcher poured more purple liquid into it.
“How do you know?” Corre asked as she watched Theron throw another one back.
“I’ve had it plenty of times to know. See?” He tilted the cup to her so she could peer inside. She leaned forward and sniffed it. The earthy mixture of berries and something bitter set her at ease.
“Oh. It is.”
“I don’t know what the others are, but I don’t feel like being more daring than I already am by being here.” When Corre looked up at him, surprised, he raised an eyebrow. “What? Did you think you were the only one at risk by my being here today? I’m pretty sure you have nothing to worry about personally. If I get caught, nothing will happen to you.” The last word went sour on his lips, and his expression shifted.
Is he worried about getting caught? She looked around at the goblets and then back at his. “May I?” she asked quickly, wrapping her hand around the chalice. His dark brown eyes stared at her in surprise. Her fingers brushed along his. He nodded, and she ignored the way his gaze made her skin sizzle, and the way it felt to have her fingers linked with his as they both held the cup. She wrapped her other hand around it too and closed her eyes, sipping the drink and letting the earthy liquid fill her being, warming her body.
When her eyes opened, she saw him still staring, and she released her grip on the goblet. “I don’t feel any different,” she said, looking away and hoping he didn’t notice the heat reddening her cheeks.
“It’s a mild wine. It’s why I took it. Olympian fig-tree wine is essentially juice.”
“How do you know so much about it?”
He hitched a shoulder and took another swig. “I guess my master was okay letting me have something this mild. I’ve had it since I was a boy.”
“Really? Hm. It must be mild then.”
He laughed. “I don’t think my master was looking out for me. I think he just didn’t want me to lose my focus. He is in charge of my training, after all.”
She nodded, but she couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. There was something about his master he was trying to mask. “So you were raised by him?”
“Yes,” he said, but the word was clipped. He let the round goddess refill his goblet. “But enough about that. Let’s go somewhere quieter. I think my head may explode.”
A smile dimpled her cheeks. “I agree.” She pointed up the trail of booths. “Let’s go over there. They usually have amazing desserts. It’s how I manage to get through these things.”
“By all means, lead the way.”
Corre let the smile stay on her face, ignoring the warning flames of anxiety she was taught to heed as she led Theron up the mountain. The higher they got, the less ear-shattering the air became, and when they made it to a booth littered with decadent palm-sized pies, her eyes brightened with delight. Everything else melted away.
“Here, try this one,” she said, plucking a small lemon tart with a dollop of meringue on top. He took it without a word, but the hint of a smile on his face made her heart skip a beat. She quickly turned away and grabbed her own.
“Mm, this is good,” he said, his mouth full of lemon meringue.
“I told you.” Her teeth sunk into the gooey pastry. She could die of happiness in this little pie. “I forgot how amazing these were.” She grabbed another as soon as the last bite was in her mouth. And then another. She could care less about any judgments from Theron. This was the only good thing about these parties.
When she heard the tall god snicker, she glowered at him. “What ?” I don’t care what you think , she wanted to hiss, but he didn’t have malice in his eyes. With one finger, he swiped something off her face.
“You have something sticky all over your cheek.”
Her face burned. “Don’t be a jerk,” she said, grumpily waltzing back down the hill, trying not to show how embarrassed she was or how hastily she was trying to make it to the fountain of water in the center of the Square.
“I’m not trying to be a jerk,” his voice came from behind. “I think it’s cute.” The burning in her face intensified.
“Don’t mock me.”
“I’m not.”
It was hard to find a place she could comfortably sit at the fountain. It was a vast, circular monument in the middle of the Square, and usually it was treated with respect. But on coronation days, there were no rules on etiquette. Corre squeezed her way between two wildly laughing gods and splashed water on her face. What a jerk. The cool water was a breath of relief to her hot skin. She let her soggy palms rest against her face until she was ready to rejoin her guest.
She groaned at the thought. I want to eat my pie in peace. I don’t care about how messy it gets. I don’t need someone ridiculing me. She sat on the marble fountain and looked back up the hill. The booth with the pies was bustling with guests. From here, it looked so small, but it was much more than a booth. It was a makeshift shop consisting of a long counter and as many pies as one could eat. In the back were two goddesses and another god preparing more goods for the partygoers.
It was the first time Corre realized that the gods and goddesses providing the drinks, treats, and favors at the coronation didn’t get to enjoy them like everyone else. They worked tirelessly so those deemed as being ‘higher class’ or ‘chosen’ or ‘Great’ didn’t have to go without for a single second. There must have been a lot of pressure on them. These gods that were often thought of as being lesser. “Common gods”—ones without grand prophecies. What made people like Corre and Apollo and Artemis, and anyone else enjoying the coronation party, more worthy than these hard-working gods?
Nothing. There was nothing. Just a scrap of paper designed by the Titans and enforced by the Great Ones. Corre leaned back, her hands curling around the marble rim of the fountain. The sprinkles of water spitting from one of its many heads was cool against the back of her neck. It was then that she realized she hadn’t heard an aggravatingly alluring voice for a while now, and panic splintered in her chest.
Her eyes darted along the square and up the path toward the dessert booth, but he was nowhere in sight. “Oh no.” She jumped to her feet and looked around, but this was the last place you’d want to lose someone. The music was growing louder, the laughter and voices more obnoxious, and there were hundreds, if not thousands, of gods and goddesses piled in the Square and mountain—some busily working and others enjoying the splendor.
Her blood turned cold. What if he was planning something ? I should have known. She ran to the other side of the Square, her eyes bolting to every god’s face. They were all too short. He stuck out in that ragged cloak. He was enormous. She had a hard time believing he could navigate through the crowd as swiftly as she could with those broad shoulders and the hood partially obscuring his face.
“Help!” A small voice cried. Corre’s blood curdled. She whipped around to find its source. “Help!”
The blood drained from her face.
A child.
She bolted toward the noise, frustrated that no one else in the Square even noticed. If they did, they didn’t care. The tiny voice cried out again. It was clearer now—somewhere in the trees. She pushed through the crowd to get to the woods surrounding the mountain.
Branches scratched at her exposed skin as she pushed them away. She swore she heard the voice coming from this direction, so she kept pushing her way through the leaves. Finally, she heard something. Voices. Other children. And then she saw him.
Corre’s mouth opened to scream out—to rebuke Theron. How could you hurt a child? But before she could, the scene played out before her.
“We didn’t do anything!” Two young boys cried up at the tall god. They looked to be about twelve years old—one had a pinched face and red hair, and the other was blonde and round. At Theron’s side was a third boy, one who was much smaller than the others and now clinging to Hades’ cloak.
“Are you going to lie to a superior?” Theron’s voice boomed. The two boys facing him grabbed each other.
“We’re not lying!”
“Yes, they are!” the boy at Theron’s side cried.
“No, we’re not, you little wimp,” the round boy snapped. When the small boy’s fist tightened against Theron’s cloak, the God of the Underworld stepped closer to the others.
The older boys shook, clinging to each other as the older god drew closer. Bending down, he looked straight into the boys’ faces. “Then how did he get that black eye?”
“I-I don’t kn-know. He’s clumsy,” the pinched-faced one stammered.
“Yeah he’s stupid,” the blonde one agreed.
Corre couldn’t see Theron’s face from here, but it must have been terrifying, because the blonde boy yelped and staggered back, tripping on a branch and landing on his backside. “Do you think hurting someone smaller makes you tough?” The pinched-faced boy backed up but didn’t help his friend. They both gaped at Theron in fear. “Do you think it makes you a god? Do you think it makes you powerful?” The pudgy boy clasped at his friend’s hand, but the pinched-faced boy shook it away. “It doesn’t ,” Theron boomed. “It shows that you’re weak. Because if you weren’t, then you would find an opponent with equal strength.”
“We’re not weak!” the redhead squeaked, and again, Theron’s face must have been terrifying, because the boy clamped his mouth shut and the other whimpered.
“Then prove it,” Theron growled.
“We can’t,” Pinched-face whimpered.
“I know you can’t. Because you’re weak. You’re picking on someone who doesn’t have a chance. Why don’t you be real gods and train until you can fight someone your own size?”
The round boy grabbed his friend’s shirt, and this time Pinched-face didn’t shake him away. They were frozen in fear as they stared up at the god. “Didn’t you hear me?” Theron barked. “Get out of here!”
The boys let out a series of final yelps and booked it out of the trees, passing Theron, the smaller boy, and Corre on their way out. She hid behind the tree so Theron wouldn’t spot her. What was he trying to do here? She didn’t understand. After another moment, she peered out from behind the leaves.
“You need to toughen up,” he told the little boy, to which the dark-haired boy nodded.
“Okay.”
“You don’t want to live in fear because of goons like them.”
“Okay.”
“Now get.”
The boy gave one simple nod and dashed away, passing Corre on the same way out as the others. Her eyebrows puckered. What just happened?
Theron lifted his hood and raked his hands through his hair, though the pins made the task less fluid than usual. “What the hell goes on up here?” he muttered to himself.
“Wow, I didn’t know you were such a hero.”
He whipped around, eyes growing wide. “What are you doing here?”
“Making sure my guest wasn’t wreaking havoc,” she said, walking out from her hiding place. “I had no idea he would be doing such a good deed.”
He scowled. “I wasn’t. I just don’t like seeing cowardice.”
“Uh-huh.” She flashed him a teasing look, which made him visibly more aggravated.
“It isn’t my fault Olympians are trained to be so weak. What do you do up here? Does everyone waste their time partying and being glutenous like them?” He nodded to the Square, and she frowned.
“Today is a party,” she said defensively. “I invited you, remember? Against my better judgment.”
“ Right .” He shook his head in disgust. “In Tartarus, we don’t waste our time with frivolous things.”
“I know. That’s why you came, isn’t it?”
He didn’t say anything—he didn’t even look at her—but his stern expression momentarily faltered.
“Come on. Enjoy some frivolousness. I think you’ve earned it.”
He shot her a look. “Don’t patronize me.”
“How was that patronizing?” she said, but he just made a huffing sound. She rolled her eyes. “ Anyway , it wasn’t. Don’t you think you should enjoy the party since you’re already here? When’s the next time you’ll get a chance like this?”
“Fine,” he grumbled, but his expression didn’t change. “I guess those pies were delicious.”
She couldn’t help but smile, despite how much he made her want to pull out her hair. “Wait until you try the cakes.”
Corre was still smiling as she led the grumpy Underworld god around the Square and the base of Mt. Olympus, but when she glanced up at him, she saw that Theron wasn’t sharing in the merriment. His body was rigid, and his face was carved in a permanent frown. Even when Corre held up one of the strawberry cakes that got her through these blasted coronations, he took it quietly and ate it without so much as a half-smile. “You’re right. This is good,” he said blandly.
“You could have fooled me.” She tried to say it light-heartedly, but the words came out tense. His expression didn’t change. “Is something wrong?”
He wiped his hand on the ragged cloak. “No, why?”
“Ever since we left the forest, you’ve seemed off. Did something happen?”
“Other than what you saw, no. And nothing is wrong.” He looked around and pointed to another booth. “What’s that over there?”
“Oh, that’s a fortune counter.” She smiled brightly, hoping it would rub off on him.
“Fortune counter?” His eyes followed the giddy group of teenaged goddesses exiting the veiled counter, the shimmering black cloth billowing out with the wind.
“You can find hints of your future there. Do you want to check it ou—”
“No.” The word was clipped. Corre’s mouth opened to say something, but he turned and started down the mountain path. “Let’s get something stronger than the fig-tree wine. I need something to get through this.”
Her hands tightened into fists. The nerve he had . . . “Be my guest, but I want to get out of here in one piece.”
“Is something wrong with drinking?” he grunted, still walking hastily to the long table of colorful goblets.
“I thought you were the one with the problem. Didn’t you say it threw off your clarity or something?” The god ignored her and stopped when he made it to a golden goblet with a black liquid simmering inside. Corre watched in horror as he slid the drink down his throat. “Do you know what that is?” By the tightness that soured his face, she assumed he didn’t.
The frustration he caused her immediately sizzled to smoke, replaced by a wicked glee.
“Why are you smiling?” he muttered, attempting to hide how much he wanted to clasp his throat and beg for water.
She suppressed a giggle. “Oh, nothing. I’m simply looking forward to seeing what happens next.”
“Is this water?” Theron asked the serving goddess at the counter. When she nodded, he emptied a goblet with clear liquid in one gulp, then turned to Corre. “What, pray tell, will happen next?”
This time, she couldn’t hold in the laughter. “You’re going to be uninhibited in the best way. That black liquid is a special potion brought out only on occasions like this so you can really let loose. In fact, I’d be surprised if you can hold back anything. Even your darkest secrets.” She leaned forward and gave him the most mischievous smile she could muster. The horrified expression bulging out of his brown eyes made it easier.
“You’re not telling the truth,” he said, but through the horror in his voice, it was evident he believed her.
“I am.” She stepped closer, until they were only a goblet-width apart. Staring straight up at him this closely, she could smell the black licorice of the special potion, and the faint aroma of strawberry from the cake. “Tell me, Theron, why did you come up to see me today?” She was surprised at her own boldness, but she wanted to know. Why did he keep appearing and showing her nothing but sarcasm and disdain? “What is your plan?”
His eyes softened, and his lips parted. Heat flashed across her skin. “I don’t have one,” he said. The words warmed her skin even more.
“Why do you have to talk like that?”
“Like what?”
“So—”
“ATTENTION! Gods of Olympus! The ceremony shall now begin!”
Saved by the sound of a trumpet and a bustling crowd, Corre tore her eyes from his. “We better get going,” she said, hiding the blush creeping up her cheeks. “We don’t want to look suspicious back here. You can’t afford to get caught.” Her body trembled as his fingers brushed against her cheekbone, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “What are you doing?”
“You’re right. I can’t afford to get caught.” He held his hand out for her to take, but she hadn’t drunk that black liquid. He couldn’t make a fool of her so easily. Without a word, she left with the crowd, letting her thoughts get drowned out in the noise of the drunk, boisterous gods piling in front of a stage built at the base of the castle a few paces away.
Her heart pounded, and when Theron found his place beside her, she paid him no mind. She had to ignore him, to keep her composure. But it was hard not to think about his fingers brushing against her skin.