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Just in time to hear my mother in the process of throwing me under the bus.
“I forbid her from going, of course,” the Goddess of Love and Beauty says, regret and disappointment in her golden voice. “But she would not heed me. The death of her mortal kin sent her running headlong into Hades’ realm, even though I warned her that it was forbidden.”
Wow. Just, wow. I mean, the bar for my maternal expectations was pretty low, but there goes Aphrodite, limbo dancing underneath it.
“And now my only daughter is dead.” She pauses to give a tiny sigh of a sob. “We must move to seal the Underworld off forever, so this tragedy may never happen again!”
“The spilled blood of kin must be avenged.” The cool, calm voice that responds is definitely Athena. I might have been touched that she’d seek revenge for my murder, if I didn’t know it was just because she can’t stand my mother and would do anything in her power to screw Aphrodite over.
“Are the rash actions of one child enough to drag all of Olympus into a war with the Underworld?”
I can’t place the new voice other than that it’s male. Probably one of my brothers, then. Or another of Aphrodite’s boot lickers. Simps, the lot of them.
Another voice pipes up. “We have maintained a truce for millennia. Do we truly wish to break it over one grief mad, half-mortal?”
“Truce?” The dry, whispering voice makes the shadows beneath the roof grow a little darker. Hecate, the witch queen, has a way of making her presence felt. “Is that what we’re calling a stalemate, now?”
She’s also a shockingly eager shit-disturber, which made her my favorite quasi-aunt.
Adonis quirks a brow at me, clearly asking what the play is here, and I shrug. I’m tired of pissing around and trying to hide. Time to take my place in the spotlight. So, I stride out onto the floor of the Acropolis, past all the marble stadium seats where practically everyone in Olympus is sitting. Zeus is on his big ass throne, with the thundercloud rumbling ominously overhead. It probably would have been more impressive, if he weren’t half hunched away from Hera, who’s seated on an ever so slightly smaller throne to his right.
Aphrodite stands before his throne, artfully tear-streaked and wearing draping, dark purple fabric, which I guess is what she considers mourning clothing? Heavens forbid she wear actual black, it might wash her out.
I’m not going to lie, part of me is so, so tempted to come out with something like, “the rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated”, but in the end, I just pace out into the middle of the floor, with Adonis trailing behind me like a golden shadow, and I let my presence speak for itself. I don’t know where Ares is, but at the moment, I have to admit I’m not very concerned.
Aphrodite actually looks shocked. It’s the most emotion I’ve ever seen on her face. There’s a tide of murmuring that sweeps through the temple, a bunch of gods all whispering to each other at once. Gossip moves far more quickly than miracles on Olympus.
“Hello, Mother.” I give her a tight smile. “Surprised to see me?”
She’s clearly off balance and trying to hide it. Aphrodite pastes a relieved expression on her face, but the mask is cracking around the edges.
“Penelope!” She blinks wide eyes, one hand pressed against her chest. “You’re here!”
“I am.” The words come out grimmer than I intend them to, but oh well.
She flutters a bit more, and it might be convincing if I didn’t see her dart a quick look around at the assembled deities. “Thank goodness you’re back. I’m relieved you’ve given up on your foolishness and come home.” She blinks her eyes around the room, as close to pleading as I’ve ever seen her. “I can only hope that those present will take mercy on my poor, half-mortal child for breaking our laws and descending to the Underworld without permission.”
Oh, thebitch.
She’s in full ‘cover her ass’ mode. She wants me to take the fall now, after she had to confess that I went into the Underworld, most likely trying to petition Zeus so she wouldn’t be forced to confront Ares for kin slaying after he murdered me. Now she’s scrambling, because she never thought I’d actually make it back.
The fury is pounding in my head, tides of rage sweeping over my brain, but I swallow it all back. Screaming at her won’t buy me anything except momentary satisfaction. That’s just not good enough.
“What do you mean, Mother,” I ask, faux innocence dripping from every word. “You gave me permission to enter the Underworld. And a quest to complete.”
Her eyes flash a warning, but her expression only looks confused and a little disappointed. “I most certainly did not.”
I put my meager acting ability to the test, tilt my head to the side and furrow my brow like I’m thinking hard. The way Adonis coughs behind me tells me maybe I’m laying it on a bit thick.
“But of course, you did. You even gave me this to protect me.” I tap one nail against the diamond set in the choker around my neck. “It’s full ofyourpower. It was how you could communicate with me.”
Aphrodite goes very still. She’s almost certainly trying to think of a way to explain the necklace, to excuse it, but I know she’s sunk. Because the chokerisvery much her power, and anyone who can sense that kind of thing would know it. She’d meant it as an escape hatch, and if I’d used it, she could have yanked me out of the Underworld, and the necklace would have been gone, like it had never existed at all. Evidence destroyed.
But I hadn’t used it. I hadn’t run home to Mother. I’d fought my way through the Underworld, defeated the Fallen, rescued my sister. And now she’s screwed. And she knows it.
I hold up a hand, trying to push off whatever next round of bullshit she’s going to start spewing. And I know there is going to be a dump truck’s worth of it, because Aphrodite is vain in all ways, and she’d never, ever be able to swallow losing face in front of all the assembled gods. Especially because a whole lot of them are her rivals. Most are and the others are or were or will be her lovers.
“Here’s the thing; I don’t care. I don’t care about the politics, or any of this.” I wave a hand around at the gods, who are all watching us avidly. If I weren’t so done with everything, so tired I feel like I could just curl up on the marble floor and sleep for a month, I might try to be a little more circumspect. Maybe.
