Chapter Forty-Five Aphrodite
Chapter Forty-Five
Aphrodite
Aphrodite had to admit, the ballroom looked surprisingly lovely for being the site of a last-minute wedding, especially in the middle of a storm with no power.
The hotel’s staff had done wonders with Julia’s wedding flowers, tying them to the backs of folding chairs, scattering them along the makeshift aisle.
They had also filled the room with dozens, perhaps hundreds, of candles in glass hurricanes—which was surely a fire hazard, but who would report it at a time like this?
The candles cast a flattering golden light over the gods in the folding chairs, blurring the edges of the room in shadow, so you could only just see the green leafy wallpaper on the ballroom’s curved walls.
It felt romantic, as if they’d stepped back in time to some eighteenth-century wedding.
Aphrodite had to admit, it felt very Julia.
Too bad there would be no wedding today.
“The ceremony was supposed to start thirty minutes ago. Do you think something is wrong?” Hephaestus asked from the seat next to her. The other guests—mostly gods, aside from that mortal friend of Julia’s from London—shifted restlessly, checking their watches in the dim light.
Aphrodite waved her hand airily. “I’m sure Julia is just struggling to get ready without power. How is she supposed to look like a bride when she can’t even curl her hair?”
Hephaestus let out an amused breath. “I hadn’t thought of that. I never curl my hair.”
“No, it’s curly all on its own,” Aphrodite agreed, and reached up to slide her fingers through his dark locks. She meant the gesture to be light, playful, to distract Hephaestus from his thoughts about Julia’s whereabouts—but as she cradled the back of his head, her breath caught.
Moving very slowly, Hephaestus detached her hand, but he didn’t let go. He brought her palm to his lips and pressed a kiss there. It probably looked to anyone watching like a chivalrous gesture, but to Aphrodite, it felt raw and wildly erotic.
“Later,” he murmured meaningfully.
She swallowed and nodded. Then Hephaestus turned to say something to Athena, who was seated on his other side. Aphrodite tucked her hair behind her ears, adjusted the straps of her dress. She caught herself wondering if Hephaestus had noticed that she wasn’t wearing a bra.
Of course he’d noticed. Hephaestus had remarkable attention to detail. A fact that had become acutely apparent to her over the past few nights, when that focus was directed at her naked body.
She’d felt a momentary burst of panic yesterday, when the hotel manager came to their table at lunch.
She and Hephaestus had been feeding Eros, trying to distract him from his latest trick, of transforming all the adults’ sandwiches into jars of baby food.
“I’m pleased to report that the wedding between Mr. Ellene and Ms. Dodds will still be taking place,” Nicole had chirped.
“Everyone should be in the upstairs ballroom tomorrow morning at eleven!”
Aphrodite stared at Nicole’s retreating form, too distracted to notice that Eros’s bib was flickering from blue to fire-engine red.
Ares and Julia were still planning on getting married?
Even after Aphrodite had spoken with Julia that morning, had told her that this family would chip away at her sense of self until there was nothing left?
If she weren’t so damned annoyed, Aphrodite might have been impressed. Julia was not easily frightened.
She’d glanced around the room for Hera, but her mother-in-law was nowhere to be seen.
Aphrodite had decided to take matters into her own hands.
She had no other choice. She had to protect her position, her life, especially now that she and Hephaestus were…
well, she didn’t quite know what they were.
But it felt momentous that they had finally talked about her and Ares.
Maybe now they could move past it at last.
And of course, it didn’t hurt that they were connecting—very intensely so—on a physical level, too.
As if he sensed the direction of her thoughts, Hephaestus reached for her hand. Aphrodite felt a new charge in the air between them.
Then a door slammed at the back of the ballroom. Everyone shifted in their seats to see Ares storming down the aisle.
Aphrodite gripped her husband’s fingers tighter, shoving aside the guilt she felt about last night. She’d gone nuclear, but it had worked, hadn’t it? Julia was skipping out on her own wedding.
Ares gestured to Julia’s mortal friend, who stood and hurried toward him. They spoke in low tones, both frowning in concern. Hera joined them a moment later.
“Can I have everyone’s attention?” Ares called out, and the whispers that had raked through the ballroom died down. “Julia is missing.”
His words were met with a low rumble of shock. Aphrodite tried to seem as surprised as everyone else. She looked up to see Hera’s gaze fixed curiously on her.
Aphrodite nodded once, knowing Hera would understand. Yes, she was saying, I did this.
Hera’s eyes flashed with unmistakable approval. She hadn’t looked at Aphrodite that way in a very long time. Maybe ever.
Worry creased Ares’s features. “We only noticed Julia’s absence just now, when Nicole went to see what was taking her so long.
I thought she was getting ready with Abby here”—he glared accusatorily at the mortal woman, who held his gaze—“but Abby says that last night, Julia told her she wanted to spend the morning with my mother.”
“I thought you’d hired a stylist to do her hair or something,” Abby explained, turning to Hera.
The queen of the gods threw up her hands. “In a storm? Where would we get a stylist?”
Abby, wisely, didn’t answer.
Ares glanced once more at Julia’s friend, then turned back to the gathered guests. “If anyone wants to help, we’ll be splitting into groups to search the hotel and the grounds. Julia has to be somewhere on this island, because there’s no way she could have left in the current weather conditions.”
They all immediately glanced toward the east side of the ballroom, where great windows would normally have looked out over the lawn that sloped to the ocean.
The windows were currently covered in accordion-style hurricane shutters, though a thin strip of watery light was still visible around the border.
The room dissolved into a buzz of conversation as guests either drifted back to their rooms or volunteered to help with the search party.
Watching Ares, Aphrodite could see what he must be like in battle.
He had shifted into an unemotional crisis mode, efficiently sorting the gods into groups and assigning them segments of the island, directing Nicole and the hotel staff to distribute emergency backpacks equipped with first aid kits. As if immortals needed Band-Aids.
Eventually the ballroom had emptied except for immediate family—Aphrodite and Hephaestus, Zeus, Hera, Athena, and Ares.
And Hermes. Aphrodite shot him a look as if to say, Can’t you go be useful somewhere else?
, but Hermes ignored her. He was probably worried about Julia, Aphrodite thought bitterly, his new mortal pet.
“I’m so sorry, Ares.” Hephaestus walked over to Ares and put a hand on his shoulder. “Where do you want me to go? I’m happy to join the group heading in the direction of the ferry, or Poseidon might—”
Ares stepped back, breaking the moment of connection between the two brothers. “Just stay with Aphrodite,” he snapped. “Athena, you too.”
Athena glanced at Aphrodite with thinly veiled disinterest. “I think I’d be more useful helping you look for Julia. Water magic is notoriously unreliable, but it’s better than nothing. We could try scrying for her location,” she explained. “Do you have a lock of Julia’s hair?”
Ares ignored the suggestion. “Just stay with Aphrodite. I don’t want her anywhere nearby when we find Julia.” Finally, Ares turned to look Aphrodite in the eyes. “I know you confronted Julia yesterday. What did you say, to make her want to run away?”
Only the truth. Magic and tricks were all very well, but Aphrodite knew that sometimes the truth cut the deepest. She’d said just enough to shake Julia’s confidence, and then last night she’d delivered the killing blow.
“Really, Ares.” Aphrodite stood calmly, knowing that the more rational she sounded, the more enraged Ares would feel. “I’m sorry that your fiancée disappeared, again, but you can hardly blame me. This Runaway Bride move is becoming a trademark of hers.”
They were gathered before the first row of folding chairs, near the space at the front of the ballroom where Ares and Julia should have said their wedding vows. A few flowers were scattered underfoot. Aphrodite watched Ares step forward, crushing one.
Hephaestus looked questioningly at Aphrodite, but she kept her gaze on Ares, determined to prove her point.
“Julia has been running from you since the beginning,” she insisted. “The moment things got serious in Greece, she fled, and now she’s doing the same thing again! Clearly she never planned to stay.”
Ares’s face turned a mottled shade of red. “What exactly did you tell her yesterday?”
“Ares, please.” Hera reached a placating hand toward her son. “It may have been wrong of Aphrodite to say anything to Julia, but you can hardly blame her for the woman’s disappearance.”
There was a moment of startled silence as everyone registered that Hera had defended Aphrodite.
This was the start of a new era, Aphrodite thought in relief. She was no longer the wicked daughter-in-law who had nearly fractured the family; she had stepped forward and protected the family from an interloper, when no one else could.
Ares’s eyes narrowed. “You did something else, something more than just bullying her,” he said slowly. “Did you use magic? Reach into her mind and make her want to leave? Because that’s crossing a line. Julia is my fiancée and under my protection.”
“She’s your fiancée, and you didn’t even realize that she’s immune to magic?” Aphrodite snapped.