Except it’s not Athena waiting for me. It’s Hermes.
12
Hera
“You!” I lunge across the seat, only to be brought up short when Atalanta grabs a fistful of the back of my jacket. Before I can shrug out of it, she hooks an arm around my waist and yanks me against her stronger body. Pinning me.
“That’s about enough of that.” She gives me a little shake. “We’re here to talk, not fight, so calm down.”
It takes a beat for her words to register past the roaring in my ears.We. NotI. Sure as fuck nother. “So you’re a traitor, too.”
“Tomato-tomahto.”
Hermes shakes her head slowly, her expression uncharacteristically serious. “This game is bigger than traitors and treachery. Put your big girl pants on and have a conversation. This is your only chance.”
I almost tell her where to shove her conversation. I don’t give a fuck what Hermes is playing at, not when the stakes are so damned high. This all started because of Circe, yes, but Hermes has been at the heart of the mess, too.
She’sthe one who invited Minos to the city.She’sthe one who gave him her fucking house for his little murder party. Andshe’sthe one who I’m nearly certain brought down the barrier, once and for all.
But she’s still on the playing field, so I can’t afford to ignore her. I elbow Atalanta. “Let me go. I’ll behave.”
“You’d better.” She releases me, but only after giving me a shove into the back seat of the car and slamming the door behind me. Within seconds, she’s around the front and in the driver seat. Even as I tell myself not to react or give them any reason to suspect I’m afraid, I can’t stop myself from trying the door handle. Locked.
“Come now, Hera. My company is hardly unfortunate enough that you have to throw yourself from a moving vehicle.” The worst part is that Hermes sounds much the same way she always has, bright and irreverent. She’s changed up her hair from her usual natural curls, styling it in box braids that reach the middle of her back. I feel like I’ve been run through the wringer, but her dark-brown skin glistens with vitality. She looks fucking good, and it pisses me off.
“You have me where you want me.” I slump back against the seat and cross my arms over my chest. It’s petulant but I’m so fucking tired. This has been the longest day, and if there’s one person who never plays by the rules, it’s Hermes. She never seemed to do anythingusefulwith that rebellion, but that just proves she’s better at the game than most. She’s been playing us all along. “Hats off to you, I guess. No point in indulging in this game of pretend anymore.”
Hermes shrugs, her smile dimming. “It wasn’t all pretend. I’ve held this title for damn near a decade, and not even I’m that good.”
“Forgive me if I don’t believe you after the way you’ve acted for the last year or so.”
She bursts out a bright, bitter laugh. “You know that saying about glass houses and stones? You should try looking in a mirror. Everyone in this city is a liar. I’m hardly the worst of them.”
“That’s up for debate.”
True to form, she doesn’t make me wait long for a reaction. She rolls her eyes and flicks her braids over her shoulder. “Everyone is so damned serious these days. It’s a real bummer.”
“Hermes.” Atalanta meets her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Stop fucking around.”
“Yes, yes.” She waves it away and focuses entirely on me. “You have to talk to your husband.”
Of all the things I expected her to say, those words didn’t even make the list. It surprises me so much that I burst out laughing. “I thought you were the one with all the information. Obviously not. Otherwise you would know that I can’t tell my husband shit. If you want to deliver a message he’ll actually listen to, you should have gone to Ares or Eris.”
“You’re deeply underestimating your effect on him. I’m not going to be lewd and point out that in all my years of knowing him, he’s never once stepped out of line enough to allow a video of his…extracurricular activities…to make the rounds on MuseWatch. Not a video, not a photo, not an audio recording. Nothing. He forgot himself with you, which means there’s still hope.”
I blink. I don’t know which part of her words to process first. I’ve never followed MuseWatch as closely as my sisters did; the prattling on about the illicit lives of the Thirteen and the legacyfamilies bored me to death. They’re human. They fight, they fuck, and then they die.
Maybe I should have been paying closer attention.
No, that’s not something to get sidetracked by. If my husband got carried away enough to get distracted—I pointedly ignore the little flicker of warmth as I contemplate that—it just means I’m not safe with him. That’s nothing new; I’ve never been safe with him. “Get to the point.”
Hermes’s expression morphs back into something uncharacteristically serious. “I tried to talk to him, but his father’s shit is too heavy. He’s indoctrinated.”
I raise my brows. “‘Indoctrinated’ is a strong word.”
“Would you prefer ‘traumatized’? PTSD? It all fits.” She shakes her head. “Regardless, you’ve never believed the hype around the Thirteen. Surely you can recognize the system doesn’t work. Itneverworked—not for the people who needed it the most. You should know that better than anyone, Hera.” The emphasis she puts on my title prickles my skin.
I want to argue, but I would just be doing it for the sake of arguing. “Say I agree with you, which I don’t know if I do… What do you expect me to do?”
