Chapter 32 #3
The night air is warm, but I feel cold inside. I clasp my arms around my body, holding myself tightly, trying not to shiver.
Zeus looks to Hera, then Poseidon. Then Hera again.
Which of them does he most want to please today? And who would it entertain him the most to frustrate and annoy?
“A god does have a right to punish a mortal,” he says.
I hold tight to Alkippe’s hand. I can’t breathe.
“And the boy was trespassing,” Zeus continues. “He did steal that chariot, putting the world at risk.”
“Zeus,” Poseidon breathes, aghast, “you can’t mean—”
Zeus claps his hands together. “This wasn’t murder,” he declares. “Ares can go free. Hephaestus, unlock him.”
I sag and Alkippe stumbles against me. Demeter reaches out, her hand warm and grounding on my elbow, holding us both steady.
Hephaestus steps forward and Ares holds out his wrists to his brother. In a swift motion, the chains drop to the ground.
“My son!” Poseidon gasps.
“He offended a god.” Zeus shrugs. “And you have other sons.”
Eris curls a finger, beckoning her sisters forward. I recognize the predatory way they move, the intensity and eagerness uniting the three of them. They’re ready for war.
Poseidon’s eyes bulge. “This can’t be.” His chest heaves as he stares at Ares, then back to Zeus. “You said…you promised…”
“I promised justice.” Zeus smiles. “It’s delivered.”
“Then we’re done here,” Artemis says. “May we go?”
Zeus nods. “I’ll summon you all to the next council.” He looks steadily at Ares. “You too. You’ll return to Olympus now.”
Artemis and Apollo are already leaving, she a graceful deer, he a darting serpent, both disappearing swiftly under the moonlight.
Hera flashes us a disdainful look and transforms herself into a hawk, vanishing into the skies.
Demeter squeezes my arm and takes a dove-shape similar to my own as she leaves.
Hermes is gone before I notice. Athena folds her arms, her perfect face troubled. “Is that really all?” she asks.
“It is.”
I can see her weighing it up, contemplating what’s taken place. “Very well, then,” she says. She sweeps herself into the shape of an owl and follows Hera’s ascent.
Poseidon shoves his way past Zeus. “I won’t forget this.
” His eyes are chaotic, his hair rumpled, and his body quivering with a rage he can barely suppress.
I hold my breath, thinking he’s about to launch himself at Ares, but he storms to the edge of the rock and leaps forward.
There is a moment of silence, then a storm of hoofbeats echoes into the distance.
The sparkle drains from Eris’ eyes, leaving her drawn and sulky once more. She spins on her heel, spreading her wings, and the Keres follow her into the night.
“Well,” Zeus says briskly, “Poseidon will get over it. I’ll see you on Olympus.” And, with that, he’s an eagle, swooping away from the rock.
Only Hephaestus and Dionysus are left with me, Ares, Eros and Alkippe. Dionysus stands watchful at Hephaestus’ back, his eyes on Ares.
Ares clears his throat. “Thank you,” he says. “For speaking in my defense.”
Hephaestus doesn’t smile, just inclines his head in acknowledgment. “I only said what was fair,” he says. “It was the truth.”
Dionysus claps him on the back. “Very noble,” he says. “Not everyone here was motivated by the truth.”
He’s very shrewd for a god who’s usually drunk.
“Come on,” he says to Hephaestus, “let’s go.” They leave as the other gods did: Dionysus a slinking leopard vanishing down the sloping sides of the rock, and Hephaestus a crane soaring into the sky.
“Eros,” Ares says, “please take my daughter back to Scythia.”
“Of course,” Eros says.
Before she obeys, Alkippe steps from my side, over to Ares. “Thank you,” she says.
“It’s I who should be grateful,” he tells her. He folds her in his arms. “Thank you for defending me. But never come near the gods again,” he says. “I’ve warned you enough.”
She pulls back, rolling her eyes affectionately. “You’re lucky I did. But I won’t again. Provided you stay out of trouble.”
He kisses her forehead and lets her go, so that she can board the chariot.
And, at last, Ares and I are alone together.
—
He’s brought me to a spring just outside the city. The stars shine back from the dark water, hazy and rippling, a shifting mirror of the sky.
“Why are we here?” I ask.
Ares crouches by the water’s edge. “Purification,” he says. “This spring is blessed.”
He submerges his hands, and I watch. Everything is silent, save for the faint croaking of frogs and the hum of cicadas, the breath of the wind and the gentle splash of water.
When he stands up again, I don’t see any difference, though I don’t know what I expected.
“Do you feel cleansed?” I ask.
He studies his hands. The water of the sacred spring drips onto the grass below. “Enough for Poseidon?” he asks. “No.”
“But for you?”
“Yes.”
I nod. “Do you think Zeus had already made up his mind before the trial began?”
“No, I think he could have gone in either direction. It’s likely he promised Poseidon he’d condemn me. Maybe he told Athena the same thing.”
“She seemed surprised,” I concede. “But she made sense of it quickly.”
“They had a plan,” he says. “But they should know Zeus can’t be trusted.”
“He wants you back,” I say. “Or maybe he just doesn’t want Eris in charge anymore.”
“That’s definitely true.” He sighs. “I know I have much to rebuild. I should never have left her with so much power.”
“But you’re staying?” I ask. “Taking your realm back, like he asked?”
“He didn’t ask; he instructed.”
I raise an eyebrow. No more evasion. “And? Your answer?”
“I already decided,” he says. “That’s why I came to you on Olympus. I can sit on a throne every now and again. I can watch over wars here and in Scythia. The moment I saw you again, I knew I had to return. That is”—he dips his head—“if you still want me.”
My breath catches in my throat. “Why wouldn’t I?”
His eyes are soft and serious, bronze embers smoldering in the black. “You saw me kill Halirrhothios. Even though I promised you I wouldn’t.”
“I’m glad you saved Alkippe. I don’t grieve his death; Poseidon shouldn’t have encouraged him.”
He nods. “But did it make you think of how many more mortal deaths are to come? How many of them will rest on me? Did it remind you of all the reasons you can’t love me?”
I hesitate.
He takes a step closer to me, reaching for my hands. “There will be more wars,” he says. “I can’t promise an end to them. Not yet.”
“Not yet?”
“But there might come a time,” he says, “when love rules the world, and war is a long-distant relic. Almost forgotten. Unimaginable to people who hear the stories of what it was once like.” He’s silent for a moment, his hands warm around mine. “That’s a future worth fighting for.”
“Wait. Which side are you fighting on?”
“Mine,” he says. “But I want you to win.”
I laugh. “I do too.”
“So what will you decide?” he asks.
I let go of his hands. He left his helmet on the riverbank and he looks so unguarded. Forever young and strong, powerful and driven, with a tenderness that only I get to see.
I hold his face between my palms, stroking the line of his jaw and the soft skin at the nape of his neck. Then I lean up and kiss him.
There are centuries of chaos and tumult behind us, and I’m certain there are more ahead. Our realms are divided, and the semblance of peace established tonight might have crumbled by the morning. But what I once believed was impossible is something I can resist no longer.
Eternity stretches out before us: the Goddess of Love and the God of War.
Whatever it is that the Fates have in store for us, we’ll spend it the way we want.
Together.