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Demeter’s voice hit her square in the chest even as she leaned in for a customary hug between them. Hera tried to pull away quickly, still shocked by the words, but Demeter held her tight.

“Your ex-husband just walked in with his side piece, and I need you to not react.”

Aphrodite of all people appeared right in front of her, effectively obscuring the view and her from the rest of the club.

“Oh, Zeus can go hang. Look at you, Your Majesty! How have you been? You look amazing. Whatever you’ve been doing lately, whatever you’ve been plotting looks good on you. Do not turn your head, you don’t need to see that.”

Aphrodite laid a gentle hand on her forearm, and Hera felt the backs of her eyes prick.

She hated everything about this. The pity. The compassion. The attention. She knew that half the club was watching her. The other half had not yet cottoned on to what was happening.

She couldn’t stand that Zeus thought she was absolutely nothing and of no importance whatsoever to simply swan into her place of business and flaunt his latest paramour.

Who was young. And beautiful.

Hera shook Aphrodite’s hand off herself.

“Bathing in the blood of virgins has that effect on my complexion, Dite. You are well.”

The Goddess of Love’s smile was so radiant, Hera thought she’d need sunglasses.

“Thanks to you, I take it. I am still in disbelief that you made this happen for Athena and I.” She patted her growing abdomen. “I won’t ask how, two women without a turkey baster… So I won’t ask because that’s something only you could have accomplished, and it’s a miracle. But I wanted to thank you.”

Aphrodite’s voice went down to a register that signaled tears would appear any second now, and Hera desperately sought an escape. She didn’t want to confess that she’d made the pregnancy happen. That she had done it to atone in some small part for putting Dite through hell—ignore her, Hades—with her recent machinations. As apologies went, surely a magical child was appropriate?

Still, all the glow and joy and tears were going to make her puke, so she turned only to come face to face with the one person she really didn’t want to see at all.

“My aging ex-wife! I see you’ve redone the ceiling in this old place! I thought to grace you with my presence. For the publicity, you know… All those paparazzi in front got my best side. Should get you more advertisements than you can handle for the next few months.”

Zeus preened. Hera closed her eyes. What had she been thinking? What in the heavens and on Earth had she been thinking for millennia? This man was⁠—

“An imposition. Allow me.”

An ice-cold hand got a hold of hers, and she was unceremoniously pulled to the dance floor where the beat suddenly changed to some sultry piece. One she knew was not on the song list for tonight. One that required a partner. One Hera all but forgot how to dance to. A slow, seductive movement of two bodies in perfect sync at the center of attention.

“Revenge.”

“Your Majesty. I could give you the full title but, it’s a mouthful. Consider the ‘Imperial’ part implied, Empress.”

Pale blue looked into her very soul, and Hera for once did not even think about the title nonsense as her breath caught in her chest.

“I’d say thank you for the assistance…”

“But you’d be lying because you didn’t need any. You were about to smite the old fool.”

“Precisely.” The lie slid off her tongue too smoothly. She wasn’t certain she had been about to smite anyone. She was no match in sheer power to Zeus. Nobody was. So she’d just have to make a spectacle of herself. She knew it. Nemesis knew it. Everyone looking on knew it. Even the twenty-something-year-old whom Zeus chose to throw in her face yet again knew it.

“She is of no consequence, Your Majesty.”

Nemesis’s fingers tightened around Hera’s. Something inside her trembled at the care of the gesture. So naturally she couldn’t have it.

“Why are you here, Revenge?”

Nemesis smirked as if she had known exactly the words that would leave Hera’s mouth. Hera bristled.

“Do not tell me I’m predictable. I’m…”

“Stressed and insulted. A little hurt, maybe. More than you should be, but still. Nobody can really account for that.”