Page 40 of The Gods Forbid

It took us two turns of a hallway to get to the doctor, and every moment of that was commanded by other people coming up to Persy and asking her questions or confirming that she’d be somewhere.

Every person who interrupted the conversation I was trying to start with her made me significantly more irritated. I also got personal insight on what Persy meant about taking on too much responsibility.

It was clear she tried her best to participate in every thing happening under Prometheus’s roof, even those that very well could have been handled by one of the staff.

Persy handled every moment with grace, even though her back was growing straighter and straighter with each person that approached with a question or a request.

“Alright,” Persy said, coming to a plain, wood door that held at least an hour of torture inside. “She knows to expect you, so I won’t come in.”

I was far more interested in hearing Persy finish whatever it was she had been saying when we were interrupted. “You never finished telling me what you were doing with the rest of your day.”

Persy eyebrows lifted ever so slightly in the center before she steadied them to try to hide her shock. She was shocked that I was interested in something she was doing.

It felt like a boulder landed on my chest as she answered, “Paperwork and whatever comes up throughout the day, which I’m sure will happen.”

Though she was smiling and said it with a joking tone, I didn’t really find the image of her being pulled in a million different directions all that funny. I had no idea what I was going to say, but opened my mouth anyway.

Just then, the door opened, revealing an older woman, likely around sixty or seventy. She stood several inches shorter than Persy and looked like a woman who would invite you over for tea then use that unassuming hook to interrogate you for two hours before finally pushing you out the door with a fresh muffin in hand and no idea what just happened. She adjusted her thick-framed glasses before saying, “Persy, darling. Good to see you.”

Persy flashed her a genuine smile, her shoulders relaxing down an inch. “Hello, Calpurnia. How are you?”

Calpurnia completely disregarded her question. “I’m more interested to know how you’ve been doing implementing what we’ve talked about.”

I could begrudgingly respect how she cut right to the core of things. Especially since the blush on Persy’s cheeks told me everything I needed to know.

Persy shot me a quick look before returning her attention to Calpurnia. She sighed lightly, a sound that marginally released the tension in my chest. “I’m doing better. We can talk more tomorrow, but in the meantime, this is Sebastian.”

Calpurnia looked up at me, taking her sweet time assessing me with her calculated gaze. “Sebastian, is it?”

I couldn’t tell whether she was asking me for confirmation or pointing out that Persy had used my first name rather than Lord Apollo. Or maybe both. She seemed rather crafty that way.

Regardless, I stuck out my hand. “Lovely to meet you, Calpurnia.”

She regarded my hand like it was a foreign object and paused for several moments before saying, “I appreciate your attempt to make that genuine.”

The part of my power that valued the truth had to respect her honesty. The greater part of me, the one that preferred to use creative omissions and subtle lies, knew that she was going to put me through the ringer in these sessions.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Persy said, shooting me a barely concealed amused look.

Oh, she was enjoying this, wasn’t she?

“See you soon, love,” I called after her, just to see her shoulders pinch together. She turned over her shoulder, her white-blonde hair swishing around her waist, and gave me a small, close-lipped smile.

A secret, personal smile—some might say. Someone who was looking for any excuses to believe that Persy treated them differently than others.

When Persy turned the corner, I realized I’d been tracking her all the way down the hallway. I didn’t even try to hide the groan building in my throat as I turned back to Calpurnia and saw her looking at me, arms crossed, like she had me entirely figured out.

“If you’re blocking the door,” I said coolly. “It’s going to delay our session.”

Calpurnia’s eyes narrowed, assessing me like she could see down to the bone. “I wouldn’t peg you as someone eager to engage in therapy.”

I respected the art of self-improvement, I just historically used the energy one normally shelled out to personal growth on building supporters for a coup.

But she didn’t need to know that any sooner than she physically pulled it out of me. “I am eager to sit down. I assume you have a couch?”

“I do,” Calpurnia said, stepping aside and offering me entry into her office. “Don’t think for a second I won’t be addressing your reliance on humor to avoid telling the truth later.”

Oh, Persy was going to pay for this. Beautiful little torturer.