by Aimee Carter
“I just want to be alone,” I mumbled, but she draped her arm across my shoulders and fell into step beside me. I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t. Even if the anxiety of waiting and worrying for her to come back was gone, there would be a next time. There was always a next time, and I didn’t want to beat myself up about turning her away now like I had before I’d left with James.
“You shouldn’t be alone right now,” she said, and there was something underneath her words I didn’t understand.
She was right, though. If I had my way, I’d never be alone again, but I no longer had any guarantees. If the worst happened—if the council didn’t discover a way to stop Calliope and imprison Cronus once more—then I might have Milo, but I would be Cronus’s plaything for eternity. And I would rather Milo die and spend the rest of forever oblivious in the Underworld than be subjected to the same fate.
My mother led me to her bedroom, and as she entered, the branches of her bed frame flowered with magenta blossoms. I sat down on the edge of her mattress and inhaled. They smelled like summertime.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about your father sooner,” she said, rubbing my back, and I let myself relax under her touch. After years of wondering when her last moment would be, I no longer had it in me to be angry with her.
“It’s all right,” I said, although it wasn’t. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I selfishly wanted to keep you for myself.” Settling in behind me, she combed her fingers through my hair and began to braid it. “I loved our life together. I missed the council, but having you more than made up for it. I hadn’t been that happy since—”
She stopped short, and I stared at my hands. She didn’t need to finish for me to know what she was going to say. “Since you had Persephone,” I mumbled.
“Yes. Since I had Persephone.” She shook out the braid she’d managed in those few seconds and began again. “I raised you as a mortal because I believed that kind of life, away from this grandiose existence, would give you the best possible chance of passing the tests. But along the way, I discovered how much happier I was when it was just the two of us lost in the sea of humanity. And if I ever allowed Walter into our lives, that would have shattered.”
“But if Walter’s immortal, and you’re immortal, then why wasn’t I?” I said. It seemed like such a small, unimportant question in the scheme of things, but I needed small and unimportant right now.
“Because I had you in my mortal form.” She began on a smaller braid, weaving it together with the larger one. “That was part of my bargain with the council. Demigods—and you have always been a demigod, darling—are not immortal, but they can earn immortality, as can mortals.”
“Why have Henry marry a mortal to begin with?” I said. “Why not—I don’t know. Why not just have me and marry me off to him?”
She laughed softly. “And how well would that have gone over, do you think? I learned my lesson with Persephone. Henry wanted a willing queen, one who understood the price of death, and he insisted on mortal candidates. The council did consider having you born immortal, of course, since the others died very mortal deaths, but Calliope was the one to insist that you not be born a goddess.” Her voice dropped as if she’d just realized what it meant, two decades too late. “I thought it was because she wanted the same things as Henry—that she did not want to push another girl toward a marriage and a role they did not want, only to once again end in disaster.”
That wasn’t why though, of course. She’d wanted competition she could kill off. “Did Walter know you were going to get sick?” I whispered.
“What? No, honey, no.” Her hands slowed. “I was never supposed to get sick. You were supposed to be older. You were supposed to have the chance to live, to choose a life for yourself. Deception was never supposed to be part of it. I planned on telling you on your twentieth birthday, and at that point you would’ve taken the tests if you’d wanted to. When I found out I had cancer, I went to the council, and they decided to speed up the schedule. I held on so long because Theo helped me. None of that was planned, I swear.”
I nodded. She wouldn’t lie to me, not about something like that. And everything she went through, everything she’d suffered—no one in their right mind would put themselves through that for a stupid test.
I would’ve never passed if she hadn’t developed cancer, though. I would’ve never been so afraid of death that I was willing to give up six months of my life to save Ava’s. Had the council known that? Had they gone behind my mother’s back to give me a fighting chance?
I pushed the thought from my mind. It was ridiculous. Not even the council was capable of that. I hoped.
“Walter knew I was alone,” I said. “Why didn’t he come help me?”
“Because he’s the King of the Gods, honey, and as much as he might love his family, he has the weight of the world on his shoulders.” She finished my braid, and after tying it off with a bit of ribbon from her nightstand, she picked a magenta flower and tucked it into the end. “Walter has never been much of a father to any of his children.”
“So I’ve been told.” I turned to face her. “What would’ve happened if I hadn’t passed?”
“You know what would have happened, darling. Your memory would have been erased, and you would have gone on living your life.”
“But you would have still been alive,” I said. “Your mortal body would have died, but you would still be there. And you would’ve visited me, right?”
My mother’s eyes became unfocused. “Perhaps in your dreams, if the council allowed it.”
I inhaled sharply, and pain worse than anything Cronus could throw at me burrowed into my chest. She would have left me. My own mother would have willingly abandoned me if I hadn’t passed.
Then what? I would’ve lived the rest of my mortal life thinking I was completely alone. I would’ve been, too, because dreaming about my mother—if the council allowed me to—wasn’t the same as having her with me. She knew what I’d gone through, taking care of her and watching her slowly fade away all those years. She knew that I would have done anything to give her more time to stay with me. And she would have abandoned me like that anyway.
I stood, my legs unsteady. “I need to go.”
“Where?” said my mother, standing with me, but I stepped back. Confusion and hurt flashed in her eyes, and I looked away. She was my rock. My constant. She’d sworn she’d had me because she wanted to, and I believed her. I wasn’t Persephone’s replacement—but only because I’d passed those tests. If I hadn’t, I would’ve been nothing but a disappointment, too, and she would have left me exactly like she’d left Persephone. Like Persephone had left her.
I needed my mother’s love and support more than ever, but for the first time in my life, I doubted her. And it killed me.
“I’m going to get Milo back,” I said. “Someone around here deserves to have parents who love them more than anything, including their own immortality.”
I headed toward the door, tears stinging my eyes. Silently I prayed she would tell me to stop, that she would hug me and insist she would have defied the council whether or not they’d allowed her to see me. That she would have been there for me no matter what.
“Kate.”
My heart caught in my throat.
“I’m sorry. I love you.”
I blinked rapidly. Not enough to have stayed with me for the length of my measly mortal life, though. Not if it’d meant disobeying the council. “I love you, too,” I mumbled, and without saying another word, I walked out of the bedroom and closed the door behind me.
A soft hum filled the sunset nursery when I arrived. I’d rehearsed over and over what I wanted to tell Cronus, my last-ditch effort against the impending war. Rhea might have refused to help us, but that didn’t mean battle was inevitable, and I had to try. As my vision adjusted to the darkness, however, I let out a strangled gasp, all of my carefully formed phrases forgotten. Calliope paced back and forth throu
gh the nursery, holding Milo to her chest.
I lunged for her, but as always, I went straight through her and landed half a foot away from Cronus. For the first time since I’d escaped, he wore his face instead of Henry’s. So he’d absorbed everything I’d said to James, after all. He stayed silent, only quirking his lips. At least someone found my rage amusing.
“Of course Mother will heal him,” said Calliope, her brow creased with worry. “I know she has her reservations about fighting, but she wouldn’t let one of us die like that, right?”
She looked to Cronus for confirmation, but he said nothing. Good. That meant he didn’t know.
“Father, I need Henry. Can’t you undo it?”
“Perhaps you ought to have taken that into consideration before you attempted to kill him,” said Cronus neutrally, and Calliope tightened her grip around Milo, her scowl deepening.
“I was aiming for his shoulder, not his heart. And he wasn’t supposed to leave. You swore you’d heal him.”
She hadn’t meant to nearly kill him? I narrowed my eyes. Of course she’d been bluffing this whole time. She’d been in love with Henry for millennia—she wasn’t the type to give up on that. Like Cronus wanted me by his side, Calliope wanted Henry by hers.
“Then it seems as if things did not go according to plan,” said Cronus plainly. “You cannot hold me responsible for that.”
Milo started to cry, and Calliope let out a frustrated sigh. “Callum, be quiet. Mother’s trying to think.”
“His name isn’t Callum, and I’m his mother, you bitch,” I snarled, but of course she didn’t hear me. She deposited the baby into Cronus’s waiting arms.
“Here. He likes you better anyway. I need Henry, Father, and you need to get him back for me. He can’t die.”
Milo quieted. At least Calliope didn’t have him anymore. “If he is in Olympus, it is out of my control,” said Cronus.
“Then you’d better hope he isn’t,” she said.
Cronus tilted his head. “You dare speak to me in such a manner? I am your father, your ruler, your king, and yet you treat me with as little respect as you do your enemies.”
To my immense satisfaction, Calliope froze, her mouth forming a small circle. “I didn’t—” She paused, flustered. Served her right. “You know I respect you, Father, more than anything in the world. I just— Nothing’s going right anymore. Henry was supposed to be mine by now, but Ava couldn’t be bothered to fulfill her promise when he was here rescuing that hag.”
I stilled. What else had Ava promised Calliope?
“Such insolent behavior will not get you what you want, my daughter,” said Cronus. “Surely you must know that by now.”
She nodded, and for half a second, she appeared almost meek. “You’re still on my side, right, Daddy? You won’t stop loving me, too?”
I could’ve thrown up at her saccharine manipulation, but Cronus didn’t bat an eye. “No, daughter, I will not. We are in this together, and it would serve you well to remember that.”
“Of course.” Calliope bowed her head, the first sign of deference she’d shown since I’d arrived. “I’m sorry for upsetting you, Father.”
He waved dismissively, and she headed out of the nursery, closing the door behind her. For a long moment, the only sound that filled the room was Milo’s whimpers.
At last Cronus focused on me. His face morphed into a copy of Henry’s once more, though he now wore a mask of false concern. “My dear, what is wrong?”
Everything I’d planned to say was gone, but at least I didn’t have to pretend to cry. My eyes were red and puffy, and my cheeks flushed from arguing with my mother. Watching Calliope with my son had renewed my frustrated tears, and a lump formed in my throat. There was nothing fake about my grief.
“You know I know who you really are,” I whispered. “Change back to your normal face. Please.”
Cronus eyed me, and at last his appearance shifted until it was his own again. “I thought you would prefer it this way.”
He knew damn well he was fooling me the entire time, but maybe it wasn’t just to trick me—maybe he thought it would bring me some comfort, as well. Maybe that was his version of consoling me. I shook my head. “Henry’s dead. Rhea couldn’t help him. And she won’t—she won’t help us either.”
“I am sorry,” said Cronus. He set a sleeping Milo down in the crib and wrapped his arms around me. I held my breath, refusing to hug him back. He could say he was sorry all he wanted, but we both knew he wasn’t. He couldn’t be. He didn’t have it in him. “I was certain Rhea would help him.”
“We—we were too late,” I said in a broken voice, allowing the tears to flow. “By the time we got there...” It was so close to the truth that it wasn’t hard to imagine what it would have felt like to lose Henry completely. If Rhea hadn’t healed him, he would have been dead by now. I was sure of it.
We stood there in silence for several minutes. Cronus made the usual gestures someone did when comforting a loved one; soothing words, a gentle touch, promises that it would be all right as I wept into his shoulder. But I wasn’t crying about Henry’s supposed death, and Cronus didn’t really love me. How had I ever believed he could possibly be Henry?
“What did Ava promise to do for Calliope?” I said once my sobs had subsided. “Did she do something to make him die?”
Cronus shrugged and loosened his grip. “I am certain she did not, though I could not begin to guess what her intentions are.”
He was lying, but there was nothing I could do to call him on it. “Are you really loyal to Calliope?” I said in a small voice. “I thought you wanted me.”
“I do,” he said. “I am loyal to no one but you. I tell her what I must to keep her happy, but I live to see you smile.”
Bullshit. I hiccupped and pulled away from him, though he didn’t let me go completely. “Stop killing people. Please. No one else should have to die because of a stupid family argument.”
Cronus paused. “I would like nothing more than to grant your request, my darling, but surely you must know that is not possible. What do you expect me to do? To retreat back to Tartarus without so much as a second thought?”
“Of course not,” I mumbled, wiping my eyes with my sleeve. Cronus produced a handkerchief out of nowhere, and only because refusing him would do me no good, I took it. “Why does there need to be a war in the first place? Why can’t everyone coexist?”
“Because, my dear Kate, they will not stop until I have been imprisoned once more, and I cannot allow that to happen.”
“What if they promised not to try to send you back into the Underworld?”
“If it were that easy, we would have reached a solution eons ago. Unfortunately it is not. Zeus will never agree.”
“He’s a stubborn jackass,” I muttered, and Cronus chuckled.
“Right you are, my darling. Surely you understand that as long as he rules the skies, I cannot stop.”
“But what if he and the rest of the council promised not to attack?” I said. “If I could get Walter—Zeus to agree to leave you alone as long as you didn’t hurt anyone else?”
Cronus shrugged. “If you are capable of doing the impossible, then perhaps I might consider a truce, though I certainly cannot speak for my daughter.”
Without Cronus, Calliope was all but powerless against the other members of the council. “Someone once told me that anything is possible if you give it a chance,” I said softly. “If Zeus agrees, you’ll back off and let the council take Calliope?”
“Yes,” said Cronus, snaking his arms around my waist and gently drawing me toward him again. “I have no use for her any longer. You are all I need.”
My entire body went numb. Of course he still expected me to be his queen. He thought Henry was dead.
I stared into the cradle. I’d never held Milo. I’d barely even touched him, and now he would be doomed to a lifetime with Cronus as a father. Then what would everything I was fighting for mean?
N
othing.
“Okay,” I whispered. “I’ll come back to you as soon as you call a truce and the others have Calliope in custody. But I want you to let my son leave.”
“If he leaves, I cannot allow you to go with him.”
I nodded tightly. “I know.”
He studied me. “You do not want to be his mother?”
I wanted to be his mother more than anything in the world, but if I let Cronus near him, I would be anything but. “I want my mother to raise him in Olympus,” I said firmly. That way Milo would be with Henry, and I could breathe easier knowing they would have each other.
“I see,” said Cronus. “You do not want me to be his father.”
I balled my hands into fists. “You’ll have me. You don’t need anything else.”
He brushed his knuckles against my cheek in what I was sure he meant to be a loving caress. It sent shivers down my spine, but not the kind he was aiming for. “I need you to be happy. It would give me such great pleasure to show you the honesty and compassion you have shown me.”
“If you want to show me any of that honesty and compassion, then you’ll give me my son,” I said. “And you’ll promise to stop killing all of those people.”
“Have Zeus agree to a truce, and you have my word,” said Cronus with a bow of his head, and he produced a scroll out of thin air and set it in my hand. “A token of my intentions.”
I began to untie the black silk ribbon, but he placed his hand over mine.
“It is a list of names of those who have turned traitor and pledged their allegiance to Calliope. With your husband dead, it is only a matter of time before I overthrow the council,” said Cronus. “If they wish to survive, my forgiveness is their only hope. And for that, all I ask is you.”
I clutched the scroll, and even though it tore me to shreds, I whispered, “Thank you.”
“No, my dear,” said Cronus, and the fog in his eyes swirled malevolently. “Thank you.”
Chapter 9
Messenger
What was left of the council gathered in the throne room of Olympus. It was well past midnight in Greece now, and after the battle at sunset, several of the members looked like they hadn’t slept in months. They were there though, and that was the important part. Even Henry had gathered, though he was silent and still looked the worse for wear.