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“From what we’re hearing, you’re not even actually married anymore. You tried to assert the claim you were still wed during the Trials, and instead, the Underworld was ransacked and we were all robbed blind while you played eenie, meenie, miney, mo between brothers.”
I twist to see if I can pinpoint who said that, but I can’t find them. If I could, I would silence them.
“What is it going to take to convince you?” I ask, bracing my hands on the table to look at the blonde. More than one of the gods lets their eyes dip to my cleavage. Essos rests his hand on my shoulders.
“Let’s see the proof. Call Rafferty in here. He can show us your memory of that so-called murder.” She’s so calm when she says it, when she tells me to relive the worst day of my life.
My stomach flips, nearly letting loose all the food I’ve eaten today. Like I didn’t already have to live through it the first time, and again when Galen showed me that Essos was on the other end of that blade, andagainwhen I remembered it for real. Living through it once was more than enough.
“Absolutely not,” Essos hisses, staring her down, hand still on my shoulder. The room feels a touch darker, a touch colder.
“Why not?” She’s on her feet now, leaning on the table the way I am. She’s looking at my husband, with…desire?
I straighten up. “Because I refuse to let my last moments be replayed for your entertainment.”
“I’m just saying. Your husband hardly seemed broken up about your so-called death. He certainly wasn’t broken up about it while he was moaning my name.”
There is a dramaticOooohfrom someone, and when I glance over, I see my first lover, Cassius, the God of Vanity, sitting with a bowl of popcorn.
Somehow, I’m not surprised.
I bite my tongue so hard I taste blood, but I stare down this minor goddess who thinks she can walk into my house and claim my husband. “You should be careful of the accusations you throw around. The last woman who claimed my husband loved her lost her mouth. Make no mistake, the crown rests onmyhead. It is my bed he shares. Consider yourself a consolation prize, not good enough to be his wife. Not good enough to even be his mistress while I was dead. And by the way, green clashes with that awful dye job. It doesn’t suit you in the least.”
I watch as her skin turns more and more green, and I turn the green a deeper shade, knowing that it will linger longer. She’s confused at first by my insult, and then she looks at her hands. That’s when I remember where I know her from. She was another assistant on Essos’s office floor, and friends with Ellie. If I’m remembering right, her name was Lucky—so unoriginal for the Goddess of Luck. I can’t help it; I push on, infusing the green deeper in her skin, smirking as it climbs up her arms. It’s temporary, the color change, lasting just long enough for my point to be made.
“Not so Lucky after all?” I ask, dropping back into my seat and then taking a savage bite of a stalk of celery. It doesn’t have the same impact another food might have, but it gives a satisfyingly threatening crunch.
I hold the stare down until she looks away first. Part of me wishes she would have kept going so it would distract me from the burning feeling in my chest. Lucky looks like she wants to place a hex on me, but Essos leans forward, leveling her with a look, one that warns her not to push it.
Apparently, my husband has some other secrets he needs to tell me tonight.
* * *
Noticeably absent fromthe meeting is any talk of the mortal realm. No one seems to give a single shit about the zombies that rise and roam there every day. Zara tries to bring it up but is shut down when Lucky presses Essos about how finances in Solarem are strained.
Zara meets my gaze from across the room, a fire burning in her eyes that makes me remember why she makes a formidable enemy.
The gods’ reluctance to even talk about the mortal realm reinforces the necessity of a visit. The media tends toward hysteria in Solarem about both realms, so the only way to know what’s happening is to experience it firsthand.
We spend hours talking in circles, rehashing the same bullshit. Galen was bad. Posey is the one doing all this. No, she’s not trying to do anything good; she’s trying to consolidate her absolute power. We don’t trust her, and we don’t think anyone else should either.
I’m not sure we manage to change more than a handful of minds, but after the showdown between Lucky and me, no one presses me to detail my death.
When everyone gets listless, Xavier calls the meeting to an end and people depart, leaving the usual suspects behind. I’ve eaten my weight in fruit over the course of the meeting just so I didn’t turn anyone into a tree. I lean back in my seat and rest my feet on the vacant seat beside me, rubbing my hand over my stomach, watching Essos and Xavier argue.
“The baby?” Finn asks, dropping into the seat beside me.
“No, the food baby.”
He chortles and leans around me so he’s hugging me from behind to touch my stomach. “You know Lucky was just posturing, right?” Finn whispers in my ear.
Essos must feel my gaze on him, because he looks over at us and flashes me a smile. It turns my insides into melty marshmallow goo. Now I’m not just full of food, but love, because as much as I am annoyed at having the possibility of another woman Essos slept with flaunted in my face, I know Essos loves me.
I’m not about to believe Lucky just because she made the claim, but the truth is, I missed over one thousand years of memories and events and conversations. As much as Essos wants to, there is no way for him to tell me about all of it.
“I’d like to hear that from him, thank you.” I cover Finn’s hand with my own.
“I’m sure he will tell you that, but–”
