Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Before I can think too closely about what I’m doing, I slip back into the study and cross to my wife, her pretty eyes puffy from crying, tear tracks on her cheeks. “I have to leave for a little while, little siren.”
“But—”
I catch her reaching hand and press it to my lips. “I’m not going far, and I’m not doing anything that will put me in danger. There are some people in the lower city I need to speak to.” I lean down and kiss her forehead. “Stay with your sisters. If you need anything—”
She sniffs. “I might be grieving, but I’m not helpless, Hades.”
“I know.” And I do. I press one last kiss to her forehead, and then leave the study, closing the door softly behind me.
When it comes down to it, the choice of who to call is a simple one. By the time I make my way to the warehouse district, they’re all waiting for me.
Juliette, the clothing designer who used to be a model in the upper city.
Thanatos and Hypnos, brothers who have been instrumental in keeping my club running smoothly.
Gayle and Matthew, whose respective families have been among the lower city for generations and are valued members of our community.
Medusa and Calypso, refugees from the upper city who have become pillars of the lower city in their relatively short time here.
And Charon, my second-in-command.
I meet each of their questioning gazes in turn. If I do this, there’s no going back. A part of me wants to change course, to stick to the familiar, even if the weight of this title has grown more suffocating with each passing day. Still, it’s mine to bear. Passing the burden to someone else—even if it’s a group of people—feels selfish in the extreme.
Once again, I picture my wife’s devastated face. Her mother is dead. The next murder could be one of her sisters. It could be her. Or our children. If I have even the smallest chance of saving her from more pain…of saving myself…
Through the course of my life, I have done anything and everything I could to protect the lower city and allow it to flourish in its own way. The cost has been high on a personal level, and I’ve never questioned it. It’s a duty and a privilege to rule. But Persephone’s only sin is loving the man who rules the lower city.
More, if I cling to power because I’m afraid of letting go instead of allowing my people a true chance at representation, then I’m actively holding them back. That, I won’t do. Not even for myself. I take a deep breath. “In a short period of time, Hermes will issue an invitation to all of Olympus…”
31
Circe
As I watch Hecate set up things to record her video, I can’t help wondering if maybe I actually died in the river. Or maybe I actually died all those years ago, a victim of Zeus’s violence. Surely that makes more sense than the truth.
That I let my hate be my defining trait for nearly one-third of my life. That I orchestrated so much violence and death, and yet the ones who paid the cost are the people I brought into the city. Yes, Olympians have died, but the numbers are on their side. After making a few calls this morning, I discovered that only Nerissa escaped from the mob. Only Nerissa.
I press my hand to my chest. I thought I could cut myself off, could hold myself apart to diminish the chance the world had to hurt me. No, not the world. My ambition. It’s always been my fucking ambition to blame.
All those years ago, Hecate only wanted me. She didn’t give a shit about fancy presents from the upper city, but I was so determined to prove we deserved nice things, to give her a taste of the life we could have if we moved to the city… And then I never made it home.
I’ve never been more tired than I am in this moment, even with the sleep I’ve managed to snag while wrapped up with Hecate and Atalanta. Was this all for nothing? Or was it all an unnecessarily complicated plot to bring me right to this moment. To Hecate, who I never stopped loving. To Atalanta, who I never could have anticipated.
I don’t want to lose them—or, more accurately, the possibility of a future with them. I can’t let my ambition cause more pain, more suffering. “I’ll do it.” I don’t mean to speak, but the words spill out all the same. Hecate and Atalanta pause in their setup to look at me in question. It’s enough to keep going. “Whatever you need, I’ll do it. Even if it’s leaving.”
They exchange a glance. Hecate clears her throat. “As much as I appreciate your strong statement, it will have to wait until we’re done with this next step. And, like, no offense, but even with the hot sex and the whole still-loving-you thing, I don’t entirely trust you.”