Conversely, Hades spent most of his life embracing being the boogeyman of Olympus in order to ensure no one fucked with the lower city. Even now, he’s willing to miss an opportunity to leverage his position to amplify his power because that would mean leaving his portion of the city unprotected.
I can’t think of a single thing that would convince either of them to leave. They’re both far more likely to laugh me out of the room and then try to kill Circe personally. If it could be done, they would have already accomplished it.
No, fuck that. I didn’t marry godsdamnedZeus, didn’t spend months in his bed, didn’t conceive his future child, for it to end like this. Absolutely not.
I yank my phone out. “Give me a few.”
“Um. Sure.” Nephele falls back a few steps to give me the illusion of privacy.
It’ll have to be enough. I should probably move away from the bathroom doors, but a small, petty part of me is happy to let Circestew in there a little longer. I dial Persephone, punching through her Do Not Disturb without hesitation.
She answers, breathless. “Callisto? What’s wrong?”
I have to close my eyes at the bittersweet sensation of hearing someone saymyname. Not one Hera among many, but Callisto Dimitriou, singular and unique.
“Callisto?”
I wish I could avoid involving Persephone. Her situation is a perfect inversion to my misery. She loves her husband, her new role as queen of the lower city, loves the children she’s currently pregnant with. She deserves all the best things, and I’m about to drop a bomb on her life. “I need to see you. It’s important. An emergency.”
She clears her throat, and when she speaks again, she sounds more like herself. “Are you safe?”
No. Not even a little bit. I haven’t been for a very long time. “Please, Seph.” The childhood nickname slips out despite my best efforts. “As soon as possible.”
“I can’t cross the barrier.” She lowers her voice. “I want to see you—you have no idea how much I want to see you—but it’s not just me I have to worry about anymore. It’s Hades and our people and—”
“And the babies.” I press my hand to my stomach, to the pawn within. A future child not created from love, but from necessity.
“Yeah. And the babies.” She pauses. “I can’t let you cross, either. I love you, Cal, but I also know you, and as much as I trust you, I understand that you’re playing our mother’s game now.”
“Not on her behalf,” I snap.
“No, not on her behalf.” Persephone is silent for several beats. “I guess we needed the lessons she taught us after all, didn’t we?”
“I guess we did.” I close my eyes. I should have expected the conversation to go like this, but Circe rattled me more than I want to admit. I have no idea how a sniper—two—got into the lower city. They must have already been there when the barrier went up. “Can we meet on one of the bridges? I have to talk to you and it has to be in person.” She’ll have to hear me out that way, won’t be able to sever the conversation by hanging up.
She hesitates long enough that I suspect she’s going to reject the idea, but she finally says, “Tomorrow. I’ll call you later with the plan once I’ve made the proper arrangements.” Another pause. “Unless Zeus did something and you need sanctuary?”
“No.” The absurdity of it makes me laugh. No matter how much I hate my husband, he’s never actually hurt me. In fact, he takes such care with me that it makes me want to scream. I’m not breakable—I never have been—and I certainly don’t need to be protected byhim.
But some things I can’t admit aloud, not even to Persephone.
“Tomorrow, then. I’ll wait for your call.”
“Okay,” she says. “Be safe.”
Not a chance of that. “You too.” I hang up and take what amounts to a steadying breath. Or at least I try. Nothing is going like it should. It was one thing to take personal risks with myself to murder my husband and establish myself as regent to the future Zeus of Olympus. The only one in danger if that plan went wrong was me, and my life is something I’m willing to risk. My family’s lives, on the other hand? Absolutely not.
Circe made a mistake threatening them, but damned if I can see a route through this that doesn’t end in blood and grief.
6
Zeus
“Do you know where your wife is right now?”
I’m getting heartily tired of people asking me that question. I’m getting even more tired of the fact that my answer is usuallyno. Of course I don’t know where Hera is. She doesn’t talk to me. Not more than she absolutely has to. And every time I turn around, she’s trying to slip a knife between my ribs.
Or cuddling up with that fucker Ixion.
