Euryale stopped on the second step from the bottom. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Wish we were,” Pelagon said. “But we’re not. No one’s allowed in or out. Zeus’s orders. I’m sure you understand.”
“I assure you, I don’t.”
“The big guy’s still on the lookout for any other traitors and whatnot,” he explained.
Euryale pressed her lips together into a thin line as every muscle in her body tensed in frustration. “I’m sure he’d be fine with me going inside for a moment,” she finally said after a slow, deep breath. “By your own words, I’m the reason there’s even an Olympus to defend.”
Again, the cyclopes glanced at each other. Kyros’s pained expression grew worse, while Pelagon seemed to carry more regret than Sisyphus did once he caught Zeus’s wrath. “Please don’t hate us,” the cyclops begged. “But he was very explicit. No exceptions. There’s nothing we can do.”
“There most certainly is something you can do: you can step aside,” Euryale retorted.
“No, honest, we can’t.”
Euryale, sick and tired of nothing working out, growled while flicking her claws for both to see. “I’m not asking.”
“We’re not budging,” Pelagon replied. The one-eyed giant drew in a deep breath and his face held a calm resignation, one that only found itself on the faces of those doomed to hold an impossible line at all costs. “You do what you have to do, goddess, and so will we.”
* * *
“Dad! Are you even listening to me?”
Zeus was not listening to her. Or at least, he was trying not to. Working with his eagles inside his giant aviary was supposed to be a relaxing pursuit, and for the last half hour, instead of enjoying their company, he’d had to put up with Athena’s ridiculous request to settle some minor spat between her and Euryale.
“I will lodge formal grievances if this isn’t settled immediately,” Athena went on, no doubt knowing how much the judiciary process would get under his skin.
Zeus scratched the back of one of his birds’ necks, a gargantuan red-and-black feathered creature named Memneus who had piercing blue eyes and a swaggering attitude that demanded constant servitude from all those around it—Zeus being the only exception.
“You test my patience, daughter,” he finally replied. “Let it drop so we can tend to more important matters.”
“More important matters? She’s making a mockery of my judgments.”
“She locked up someone who attacked her family and now wants a favor for a favor,” Zeus countered with a groan of exasperation. “That’s hardly a mockery. I might ask the same if I were in her position.”
Athena snorted, her face an ugly scowl. “And if you were in mine, you’d chain her to a slab to have her liver torn out for the rest of eternity!”
“For a mortal, perhaps,” he said. “She’s no mortal.”
“Neither was Prometheus!”
Zeus huffed. She was right on that point, sadly, but ultimately, she still compared olives to figs. “Euryale is one of us. Prometheus was not.”
Athena narrowed her gray eyes and folded her arms over her chest. “You think I’m wrong as well, then. Is that it?”
Zeus inadvertently rolled his eyes and grumbled, which did exactly what he was afraid it would once it happened: anger Athena even further. It had been a long, long time since the Goddess of Wisdom had lost her bearing to this degree—specifically, back when she, Hera, and Aphrodite fought over a golden apple—so in that sense, Zeus figured, his daughter was due for another overreaction. Why the Fates had ordained it had to happen now of all times, he had no idea.
And truth be told, he didn’t feel she was wrong, not completely at least. But Zeus couldn’t be bothered to play mediator since he had much bigger concerns to deal with. Concerns that all led back to his traitorous wife, Hera; the Father of Monsters, Typhon; and now, the elder titan Cronus. They all threatened his kingdom in some way, and in some way, they all seemed related.
How Euryale fit in with nightmare, he had yet to discern, but he did know one thing for sure: If a full-blown war erupted between his daughter and the gorgon, dealing with anything else that involved Cronus or Typhon could prove impossible. Such a war might also mask the truth about Euryale’s loyalties, should Hera be right as well.
“I need you to let this matter drop,” he finally said. “There are…other considerations you are not privy to.”
Athena straightened, her face almost aghast at the notion there was information out there that she was unaware of. “What do you mean there are considerations I’m not privy to?”
“Exactly what I said.”
Athena studied her father for a few seconds, and though he didn’t show it, Zeus hated every second of it. While it was true she was indeed his favored daughter, the light of his life, and the source of all his pride when it came to things he’d made, she could also be his biggest headache, putting even Hera to shame. Her mind, unequaled, would often pick apart his thoughts and analyze them to their fullest before he was even aware of them himself. “You don’t trust me,” she said with a snort. “Me. Your own daughter.”
Zeus walked over to her and put both of his hands on her shoulders and gave them a deep squeeze. “If there is anyone I trust explicitly, it’s you.”
“You hesitated.”
“I’m being pragmatic,” he countered.
“That’s one theory.”
“What’s another?”
“That you’re scared,” she said. “That with Hera and Heph’s betrayal, you’re afraid even your own daughter might turn against you, not to mention everyone else. Which means you’re going to do what you always do when you get nervous, shut me out and go at it alone.”
“Bah,” Zeus growled, letting her go and shooing her away. “What do you know?”
“That’s precisely my point! What do I know?” Athena asked, throwing her hands up in frustration. “According to you, nothing!”
“Well, isn’t that interesting,” said a new voice to the conversation. “And here I thought I was the only one who’d dare utter such a thing. I wonder, Athena, are you going to threaten him as well?”
The two gods spun in place to find Euryale approach. She kept her hands clasped behind her back as she came, and the vipers atop her head reared, nervously tasting the air. Even her tail rattled every now and again, and though Zeus couldn’t believe it—or maybe he could, given Hera’s charge against her—Euryale looked ready for a fight.
If that were true, who else did she have on her side? Her father, no doubt, possibly Ares as well. And if Ares, Aphrodite? Alex’s aid to Persephone might also mean Hades would side with her—especially since the ruler of Hades might want to expand his rule. To top off the list, Zeus considered Apollo, as the God of the Sun had always been exceedingly friendly to both Alex and Euryale, not to mention he’d tried to usurp the throne before but obviously failed.
All of that flashed through his mind in under a second before he grunted at himself and pushed those thoughts away. His wife was playing mind games, something she was exceptionally good at. He didn’t want to act without proof, and her whispers were anything but.
“You’re much more foolish than I’d ever thought you’d be,” Athena said.
“No, you mean I’m much more willing to stand up for myself than you’d thought I’d be,” the gorgon countered.
“Enough, both of you,” Zeus said, leveling his finger at the pair. “What have you come for, Euryale? And if the answer is to try and get me to settle this spat you two are involved in, I’ve already told my daughter that I’m not getting involved.”
“That’s fine,” Euryale said, catching him completely off guard. “I’ve come to ask for a minor favor completely unrelated.”
Zeus arched an eyebrow. “Which would be?”
“I’d like you to tell the guards outside Hera’s abode that I’m to be allowed in.”
Athena shot forward. “Absolutely not! You’re only going
there to rifle through her library and find a way to undo my spell.”
“And when I do, you can have your hero back,” Euryale replied evenly.
The Goddess of Wisdom whipped around to face her father who was considering the request. “You can’t do this,” she protested. “You said you weren’t getting involved.”
“I’m not,” he replied. Before she went to protest even further, he raised his hand, bidding her to quiet. “But I’m afraid, Euryale, I won’t be letting you in, either.”
“I want my sister back.”
“I am aware,” he said. “We’ll deal with that later.”
“No,” Euryale said, in a low, even manner. “We’re going to deal with it now.”
The cords in Zeus’s neck bulged, and the tips of his fingers crackled with energy. Hera aside, he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had challenged him so blatantly. That said, however, he could understand why she was behaving so rashly, and thus, instead of letting the encounter grow even worse, he tried to de-escalate the situation while at the same time getting what he needed out of her.
“Euryale, I can relate to your…frustrations,” he said. “And I know what it’s like to have to fight an insurmountable adversary to rescue loved ones.”
The harshness in Euryale’s face and posture softened, as did her tone. “Cronus.”
Zeus nodded. “He nearly killed everyone a long time ago, as you know,” he said. “But since we’re talking about him now, I have a question that’s been lingering in the back of my mind I’d like you to answer.”
Euryale shifted. It was a slight movement, one that perhaps no one but Zeus would’ve picked up thanks to his unmatched eyesight, but it was there. “What would that be?”
“Why did he bring you back from the dead?”
Another shift, greater this time, but still incredibly minute. Had Athena seen it that time? Possibly. He didn’t want to divert his attention away from Euryale for even an instant to check.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” Euryale confessed. “Aphrodite’s the one who spoke to Nyx. I had nothing to do with it.”
“The titan said nothing to you, then?” he asked. “Or Nyx, for that matter?”
Euryale shook her head. “Nothing I haven’t already said a thousand times over. Nyx took pity on me for being a mother and apparently wasn’t too fond of her nephew, Typhon, misbehaving.”
Zeus waited a few seconds before asking one last question, wanting to make sure he was studying every possible facet of her body when she answered. “I ask only because a favor from Cronus can carry a burden even Atlas could not rest upon his shoulders,” he said. “And if that’s the case for you, given all that you’ve done for us, I’d hate for you to have to deal with that alone.”
“As I said before, I never spoke to Cronus,” Euryale replied, her affect unnaturally flat. “Aphrodite will tell you the same. He was asleep the entire time.”
Zeus stroked his beard, though it was all for show at this point. He’d already planned out his next dozen possible moves if the conversation had gone the way that it had. “Very well,” he finally said. “Thank you for indulging my curiosity.”
“Thankful enough to grant me access to Hera’s library?”
Athena tutted. “Are you honestly going to test the patience of both of us?”
“It’s not your matter to decide,” Zeus rebuked. Though he still kept his eyes on the gorgon, he could easily imagine the outrage that Athena had on display. Face crass. Arms crossed. And there it was, the tap-tap-tapping of her foot echoing in his ears.
“She’s right, however,” he said. “No one goes in there. If I start making exceptions for you, I’ll not hear the end of it from others, and it will be a nightmare trying to discern who’s trying to help and who’s trying to destroy.”
“Exactly,” Athena added. “Now run along, Euryale, and in the meantime, perhaps you should think about returning my hero.”
Euryale’s claws grew threefold, and her eyes darkened. Zeus, knowing she was one stray thought from launching herself at both of them, quickly gave her the peace offering she so desperately desired—an offering he hoped she’d take. Not so much for her sake, but for his. He needed her defenses lowered.
“I’ll bring you her tomes on curses,” he said. “You’re free to read them in your home, for one day, provided you share them with no one. Fair enough?”
Euryale drew back the corners of her mouth into a devilish grin as she tipped her head toward the ruler of Olympus. “Fair enough,” she said. She then shot Athena the smuggest of looks. “I’ll only need half that, anyway.”
Athena’s skin flushed, and when she reached out—to either sling a curse of her own or simply to use that hand to get into the gorgon’s face, Zeus didn’t know—the God of Thunder quickly grabbed her by the wrist. Stunned at his intervention, she said and did nothing else until Euryale had left.
“There had better be a damn good reason you’re tolerating her,” she said. “I don’t care what she did for us with Typhon. She’s not Chaos. She can’t treat me however she likes and think that’s okay.”
“I know,” Zeus said.
“Then…” Athena’s voice trailed and after a split second—which was about three times as long as Zeus would’ve thought it would’ve taken—she laughed at herself. “I’m such a fool. You think she’s lying about Cronus. You think he wants a favor of her.”
“The thought had crossed my mind,” he said. “Or rather, Hera planted it.”
Athena’s face soured, understandably so. “She could be trying to sow strife.”
“Possibly,” Zeus admitted. “But that doesn’t mean she’s wrong, either.”
“What are you going to do then?”
“Only what I must to get to the truth,” he said. His eyes lifted from staring at the ground. “I need you to do something, however.”
“And what would that be?”
“I want to speak with her alone after she’s had time to think about things,” he said. “Can you keep Alex busy for a few hours without him growing suspicious?”
Athena laughed as if she’d been dealt the most curious and pleasant of coincidences. “I think I can manage that,” she said. “He’s been trying to subtly get my attention for a while now.”
“He has?”
Athena nodded. “To follow him somewhere, likely to distract me with a wild goose chase for Perseus while Euryale tries to save her sister. I can’t imagine what else it would be.”
“Even better,” Zeus said with a short nod. “I’ll call you when I’m done. Till then, I don’t want him anywhere near his home. Understood?”
“Understood,” she said before turning around and leaving.
Once Athena was gone, Zeus sat on a nearby marble bench, trying to decide how aggressive he wanted to be with Euryale. He hadn’t come close to making up his mind when Memneus made a short flight and landed on a thick branch next to him. The giant eagle cocked his head before letting loose a sharp squawk.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Zeus said. “I know what I’m doing.”
Memneus squawked again.
“No, I won’t make things worse,” the god added, brow furrowing, mouth frowning. When the eagle said and did nothing, Zeus stood with a defiant grunt and started to leave.
When he was only a pace from the exit, he looked over his shoulder at the ever-watchful eagle, pointed his finger, and reiterated his point one last time. “I know what I’m doing. You’ll see.”
Chapter The Bath
Someone, or something, was following her.
Though Euryale never saw whoever kept a close trail, the taste that lingered in the air alerted her to their presence, and it was one that she felt as if she’d never come across before. It tasted like…forgotten dreams mired in the shadowy edge of Chaos, which might not make a lot of sense to some, but to the gorgon, it was completely accurate. If she thought about it a little more, there were notes of emptiness and fear, which furthe
r heightened her unease.
Not many things in this world would stalk a gorgon, and given her recent fame and appointment as an Olympian, those who would were likely beings not to be taken lightly.
As she made her way home, she tried to catch a glimpse of whoever it was by stopping in random places or taking a convoluted path that saw her backtrack more than once, but all of her attempts proved in vain.
Eventually, Euryale had to entertain the idea that stress was getting to her, and it was all a figment of her imagination. Her anxieties, worries, and fears didn’t want to go along with it, but her mind, completely exhausted, refused to give it up. She needed some rest, even if that rest was going to be in a state of pure denial.
As such, when Euryale made it home, she headed straight for the wine cellar, grabbed the nearest full-bodied red, and made for the bathhouse, leaving a trail of silk garments behind in her wake.
The bathhouse itself was one of her favorite places of her new home. Back when she lived on her island in exile, she’d had a small pool fed by a hot spring that she enjoyed, but its aesthetic appeal was scant at best, as it was little more than a rocky hole in the ground. Her new spot, however, was as ornate as any other room or temple in Olympus, complete with a large frieze running across the top, a sunken tub large enough to hold Leviathan sitting in the middle, and a slew of windows on three of the four walls that let inside both fresh air and the short, scratchy calls of the red-legged partridges who’d taken a liking to the gorgon’s vineyard.
“By the Fates, this feels good,” she said as she lowered herself into the wide basin and relished the heat from the waters within. She leaned back against tub’s edge, outstretching her arms to either side. There, she sat, drank, and enjoyed the quiet stillness the room provided.
It didn’t take long for her eyelids to grow heavy and her consciousness to slip away. A moment before she drifted off, she at least had the awareness to carefully set her glass and wine bottle aside. The sleep that followed was heavy, and though she had no idea how long had passed when she finally woke, she was so groggy that had she not seen her husband standing a few feet away, leaning against a marble column, she was certain she would have gone back to sleep for a hundred years without a second thought.
A Storm of Blood and Stone (Myths of Stone Book 3) Page 4