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)
“I can listen to reason. Occasionally. Yesterday rocked me right down to my foundations, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to having doubts after Eros’s death.” It takes more effort than I want to admit to meet her gaze. “After everything I’ve lost—we’ve lost—I won’t be the reason you fail.”
Hecate smiles, though it’s bittersweet in the extreme. “We’ll get you a ship, Circe. But you have to take all your people—even the ones in the lower city.”
A flash of fear goes through me. What she’s asking is all but impossible. “Hades won’t bring down the barrier, and he certainly isn’t going to march my people safely through it if he knows where they are.” I can’t be responsible for deaths of more people who believed in me enough to risk everything and come here.
Going back to Aeaea isn’t an option, not when the nobles retreated with their tails between their legs. They’ll be looking to punish someone for their weakness, and without me, my people don’t have the power to stand against them. Even if Icarus is somehow victorious in his efforts to change Aeaean politics, he won’t look kindly on my people, either.
“I’ll ensure they make it to you safely. No one else will die.” The way Hecate says it, firmly and confidently, I almost believe her. She glances at Atalanta, reading some unspoken communication there. “It’s time.”
Part of me wants to retreat, to walk into the bedroom and shut the door, maybe to take a shower for good measure. Every instinct I’ve developed over the years has been in the effort of only allowing part of myself to be perceived. If they can’t see all of you, they can’t hurt you, not really.
What Hecate is about to do is the equivalent of dancing naked in the middle of the street, but if she’s brave enough to broadcast this vulnerability to the entire city, then I can be brave enough to witness it firsthand.
She arranges herself on the couch in front of the phone we’ve positioned on a makeshift stand: a stack of books and other things we found around the apartment. I hate how alone she looks. I hate…
Atalanta sits next to me, close enough for her thigh to press tightly to mine. She takes my hand and laces our fingers together without saying a word—a silent acknowledgment of how fucking hard this is…and not just for me. Her thigh contains the faintest tremor, as if she’s forcing herself to hold still instead of knocking the phone off the pile of things and wrapping herself around Hecate.
Hecate who looks soft and tired and all too vulnerable in this moment. But the recording has started, and it’s too late to do anything but bear witness.
Hecate smiles softly at the camera. “You know me. Or at least you think you do. I’ve held the title of Hermes for roughly ten years. In that time, I’ve been your favorite form of entertainment, a court jester for you to laugh at and with in equal measure. But I wasn’t always Hermes. It’s time for me to introduce myself properly.” She takes a deep breath. “My name is Hecate, and this is my story.”
I know the events she’s relating by heart, and yet it feels like she’s stripping me down piece by piece as she speaks.
“I was born in the countryside. My father died in a work accident when I was seven. My mother died several years later of a cancer she likely got from breathing in the fumes from her work without the proper ventilation and equipment. My aunt and uncle took me in and did their best, but it wasn’t an easy life.” The pain is there in her dark-brown eyes, so open and honest.
“When I was a teenager, I fell in love with a girl.” Her attention doesn’t move from the phone, but I swear I feel it flick to me all the same. “Even as hard as things were, we were immortal in the way teenagers believe themselves to be. When we were sixteen, we dropped out of school and took jobs for the last Demeter.”
We were so sure it was the right choice. The only choice, really. Her aunt and uncle were having their own health problems by that point, and Hecate didn’t want to be a burden. I had no one but her; I would have done anything she asked, anything to carve out a little place in the world that was just ours.
“It wasn’t a perfect life, but we were happy for years.” She pauses, gathering herself. “And then my girlfriend took a day trip into the city to buy me an anniversary gift—a wedding ring.”
I flinch. How did she know that? I’d never confessed my plan leading up to the trip, and I certainly hadn’t told anyone about it in the time since.