“No dice,” he heard himself say. “Answer it.”
“I was faking it,” Eros said, and Ganymede’s heart twisted like an old dishrag. Hope he hadn’t known he was carrying vanished, and the new void felt cold and harsh as an unexpected snowstorm. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch downward and a lump swelled in his throat.
“Okay,” he said slowly. “I guess I—”
“At first,” Eros added.
Ganymede looked at him, unable to keep hope from rising again. “What?”
Eros was flushing bright red, his face nearly matching his hair. “I started off pretending, but the more I did it, the more I realized it was getting real. I think you’re handsome and funny and smart. There, you know, okay? Am I done now?”
“You’re done.” Ganymede grinned. Behind him, water from the bubbling pool spouted high into the air. “But I’m not.”
He leaned in and kissed Eros. Emotion and power swelled inside Ganymede and spilled over. The cave spun around him, but at the same time everything also fell into place. Eros’s eyes widened, then slid shut. Ganymede slid an arm around Eros’s smooth shoulders and at last touched the scintillating wings. The feathers slid soft between his fingers, and beneath them lay solid, corded muscle. Eros shivered, and his breath came warm and fast against Ganymede’s mouth.
“Careful,” he whispered. “They’re really sensitive. Keep that up and I might do something you won’t regret.”
“Like what?” It was a girl’s voice. Iris’s voice. She was standing only a few feet away, her rainbow dress shimmering through every imaginable color. Ganymede pulled away from Eros, feeling a rush of guilt.
“Iris,” Ganymede said. “I—I didn’t mean to—”
“Yes, you did.” She plumped down on the divan so Ganymede was between her and Eros. “Geez, G, calm down. You look like you swallowed a snail.”
Ganymede realized his arm was still around Eros’s shoulder, his fingertips still brushing Eros’s wings. He started to draw away, but Eros caught his wrist with a grin and held it. Ganymede felt his own face begin to flush.
“Are you mad?” he asked.
“About what?” Iris countered. “Look, Ganymede, we’re immortals. Most of us have screwed around with each other at some point. No one stays faithful, and no one expects it. I mean, here you are, still smelling like Zeus and already kissing Eros. You think Zeus would get pissed off if he knew?”
A pang of fear stabbed Ganymede’s stomach. “You’re not going to tell him, are you?”
“You’re so cute when you’re freaked,” she said, punching him on the shoulder. Her arm left a trail of color in the air. “And you still don’t get it. Zeus doesn’t give a shit, G. As long as you come when he calls, it doesn’t matter to him what—or who—you do the rest of the time. And it doesn’t matter to me. To us.”
“Us?” Ganymede said blankly, trying to take this in.
Eros squeezed Ganymede’s hand, the one still trapped around his shoulder. “Iris and me, fool. You think we’re just friends?”
“Oh.” Ganymede thought back to the time he’d first seen them together in the great hall and supposed there had been more than friendship there. “I get it. So I can do this?” He leaned away from Eros and kissed Iris. She smiled against his lips and kissed back. It was better than chocolate.
“Yes,” she murmured, then pulled away. “But that’s not what I came here for.”
Ganymede straightened, more than a little disappointed. “Yeah? What’s going on?”
“First I wanted to see if you two had patched things up,” Iris said. “Kinda obvious you did. And second, I wanted to see what you plan to do with the hairs of Prometheus.”
“I don’t know yet,” Ganymede answered. “I should probably throw them away or destroy them or something.”
“You won’t be able to destroy them,” Eros said. He ran his hand gently down Ganymede’s back and Ganymede leaned into that. “They’ll just reappear, regenerate. That’s what Prometheus does. And if you throw them away, someone else might find them. Zeus, for example.”
The thought made Ganymede shudder. “Okay, none of those.”
“What are you going to do, then?” Iris asked again.
“I don’t know.” He touched the place in his tunic where the three black hairs lay. “Any ideas?”
Eros and Iris both shook their heads.
“Then I guess I’ll have to hold onto them until I figure it out.” Ganymede got up and stretched. Water flowed in a hundred directions throughout the cavern, and the damp air smelled fresh and fine. “It would really freak my dad out to see them,” he said suddenly. “Should I show them to him?”
“No!” Eros and Iris shouted.
Ganymede grinned at them. “Kidding. Geez, you guys are as gullible as I was.”
Iris flung a rainbow at Ganymede from her fingertips and Eros conjured up his bow with an arrow aimed straight at him. Ganymede ducked both with a laugh.
“Seriously, though,” he said. “I should probably go down there and tell him what happened. It’s only been a couple weeks, and he still thinks I’m on Crete.”
Eros and Iris exchanged a look Ganymede couldn’t read. Take us with you,” Iris said. “Moral support. You might need it, like you did with Minos.”
“I was just about to ask,” he said. “Troy is near the ocean, so I won’t have trouble getting there, but telling Dad … I think it might get weird.”
“It always is when immortals are involved,” Eros said cheerfully. “Let’s go. You take the lead.”
Ganymede took their hands and cast his mind out beyond Olympus. Troy, with oceans to the west and farms and forest to the east, was as familiar as an old shirt and just as easy to find. He reached for it and found himself in an enormous garden he knew well. Tall stone walls smoothed with white plaster climbed high to the pale blue sky. Shaped emerald shrubs, soft green grass, and white gravel pathways wandered in all directions. In the exact center stood a fountain crowned by a statue of Poseidon, Troy’s patron god. Ganymede had spent hours in this garden, playing hide and seek with his brothers, learning sword work and literature from his old teacher, enjoying outdoor parties and feasts. The faint sounds of ocean waves slipped over the walls, and the air smelled of salt water. Ganymede recognized the place and immediately felt he was home. Yet the garden was also different. The bushes were bigger, shaped differently, or had been outright moved. Some of the pathways had been altered. The creaky wooden dais that his father had used for entertaining had been replaced with a bigger, more solid-looking one.
“What a dump,” Eros said, and Iris smacked the back of his head. “Ow!”
“Be nice,” she scolded. “Where’s your dad, G?”
At that moment, King Tros himself entered the garden through a stone archway. He wore a simple white tunic, but it was edged with purple, and a circle of leaves beaten from gold rested on his head. And he was old. His hair was completely white. Wrinkles spider-webbed his face. He limped a little, as if his joints bothered him. Two attendants followed him, both in brown.
Ganymede stared. His dad hadn’t been that old when Ganymede had left with Ilos for Crete several weeks ago. What the hell was going on? Still, it was his father.
“Dad!” he shouted, and ran across the garden toward him.
Tros looked up, shocked, then his face broke into a wide smile. “My gods! Ganymede!”
They embraced hard. Ganymede was careful not to squeeze too much. He was half a head taller than Tros now, and broader. The two attendants stepped back, looking mystified.
“You’re so big, son,” Tros said with a quaver in his voice. “I can’t believe it’s you.”
“Believe it,” Ganymede told him, smiling. “It’s great to be home again. But what happened? You’re so … different.”
“Old, you mean,” Tros said. “It happens, son. It’s been ten years.”
The words struck Ganymede like a rock. His legs wobbled. “Years? But I only … it’s been two mo
nths at most. How can … ?”
“Uh, G?” Eros stepped forward with Iris, and Tros and the attendants noticed them for the first time. The attendants threw themselves flat on the ground. Tros’s mouth fell open, and he started to kneel himself. Ganymede caught him under the elbows.
“Don’t, Dad,” he said. “They’re friends of mine. Eros and Iris.”
“They’re … gods,” Tros whispered.
Ganymede glanced at Iris in her scintillating rainbow dress and at Eros with his beautiful white wings. Both of them exuded so much power and beauty, they seemed to bend the garden walls away. Ganymede had spent so much time with them that he’d forgotten what it was like.
“It’s all right,” Ganymede told him. “Like I said, they’re friends. You might want to send the attendants away, though.”
The attendants were only too glad to rise and flee. Eros looked at one of them thoughtfully, a glowing arrow in his hand.
“Don’t even,” Ganymede warned, and Eros laughed. The arrow vanished. Ganymede guided Tros to a marble bench he didn’t recognize and sat him down. Eros and Iris sat on thin air, floating slightly higher than head level a little ways away. Tros couldn’t take his eyes off them.
“I was going to say, G,” Eros continued once they were settled. “Time’s kind of slippery on Olympus. You’ll eventually learn how to control that, but until then, things will jump around a little for you when you deal with mortals.”
“Mortals,” Tros said. “So it’s true, what Ilos said when he came home from Crete?”
“What did he say?”
“That you came back from the dead and frightened Minos into signing the trade agreement that has helped Troy so much. Then you disappeared into nothing.” Tears leaked from Tros’s eyes. “I’ve been wondering for ten years exactly what happened to you.”
“I’m sorry, Dad.” Ganymede clasped his shoulder for a moment. “I would have come earlier if I’d known. Here’s what’s going on.” And he told Tros how Zeus had taken him to Olympus and how he’d won the position of cupbearer. The parts about Zeus’s bedroom and Prometheus’s mountain he kept to himself. As he spoke, he stole glances around the garden. It looked so much smaller now, hemmed in by white walls. And so much of it had changed. A big part of him was glad to be here, glad to see his father again, but another part was dying to leave for the wonders of Olympus. It was like trying to ride two horses at once, and he didn’t like it.
“So you’re an immortal now,” Tros said in amazement when he finished. “My little Ganymede. I don’t know what to think.” He wiped at the tears on his face with the back of his hand. “And now that you’ve finished telling me all this, you’re going to tell me you have to leave, is that right? You can’t live here and wait on almighty Zeus at the same time.”
Ganymede didn’t answer, but a guilty look crossed his face. Eros and Iris hovered patiently nearby, saying nothing.
“Your brothers are both married, you know. Assaracus has a son now, and Ilos has two daughters. But you … I suppose you’ll never marry now, and any children you have will grow up far away from me.” Tros paused for a shaky breath. “And I probably won’t see you again. Not if you come down from Olympus only once in ten years.”
“Are Ilos and Assaracus here?” Ganymede asked.
Tros shook his head, and Ganymede realized he was relieved—he really didn’t want to see Ilos.
“Assaracus is training troops in the field,” Tros said, “and Ilos is in Sparta. Things aren’t going well with the Spartans, I’m afraid, and he’s trying to keep things from breaking into all-out war against us. Fortunately, the trade with Crete has been so good, we’ve been able to improve the city’s fortifications to make them all but impregnable. I just hope we don’t have to test them.” He passed a hand over his face. “Hell, listen to me. Blah blah blah. I lost you, and got you back, and will lose you again soon, and all I can talk about is the wall around the damn city.”
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Ganymede said sadly.
“I should say I’m proud of you, too,” Tros added. “Damn proud of you. How many fathers can say their sons truly became immortal?”
But the loss in his voice was obvious, and Ganymede hated seeing his father in pain. There had to be something he could do. But what? Then a small smile crossed his face. Ganymede had connections, didn’t he?
“Let’s go down to the beach, Dad,” he said. “I want to try something, but not here.”
“The stairs are a bit much for me these days,” Tros said wryly. “But I can summon a chair to—”
Ganymede put his hand on Tros’s shoulder and reached outward with his mind. The world flickered, and they were standing on the beach. Ocean waves chased each other across wide sand. On the high hill above gleamed the white walls of Troy. Iris and Eros arrived a split-second later, looking breathless.
“Hey!” Iris said. “Warn us when you’re going to do that!”
“Yeah!” Eros chimed in. “We had to look for you. Show off.”
“What?” Tros looked confused. “Where—? How—?”
“I can do these things now, Dad,” Ganymede said, grinning. He unhooked the goblet from his belt. “Comes with the job. Give me a second.”
He looked into the goblet and thought about Zeus. Instantly, he saw in the cup an image of the god on his throne of clouds. He didn’t seem to be doing anything in particular and his mood looked all right, so Ganymede decided it would be safe to approach.
“My lord?” he murmured. “It’s Ganymede. Could I ask you for a small favor?”
Zeus looked around, then seemed to stare out of the goblet straight at Ganymede. An instant later, he was standing, tall and strong, before them all. Tros dropped to his knees in the sand, his expression both fearful and rapturous. Iris curtsied and Eros bowed. So did Ganymede. Zeus touched Ganymede’s shoulder.
“What do you need?” he rumbled.
“My lord, this is my father Tros,” Ganymede explained. “We’re both honored that you chose me as your servant, but it hurts a father to lose his son. I don’t know what to do. Can you help him?”
Zeus stroked his beard and ordered Tros to rise, something the old man did with some difficulty. “I can’t replace a son or remove an old man’s grief,” Zeus said, “but perhaps I can help in other ways. Look over there.”
He gestured at the ocean. Across the ocean trotted two stallions. They were black as velvet under a new moon, perfectly matched, manes and tails fluttering. Instead of harnesses, vines of purest gold gleamed around their necks and bodies. Everyone stared, especially Tros. Ganymede, however, recognized them instantly. They were the team he had used in the chariot race against Hebe. They were the team that had lost. Tros, of course, didn’t know this and put out a trembling hand to caress the flank of the nearest horse. It stamped a hoof but made no move to rear or run off.
“They are yours, King Tros,” Zeus said. “They can run across land or water and never tire. Use them well.”
“Thank you, Lord Zeus,” Tros said breathlessly, still running his hands over the stallions in admiration. “A truly divine gift.”
A slightly irritated expression crossed Zeus’s face, and he waved his hand as if to shoo away a buzzing fly. Iris and Eros traded looks. “Yes,” Zeus said in a distracted tone. “Divine.”
“Feel better, Dad?” Ganymede asked.
“I’m amazed,” Tros said without taking his eyes off the horses. He seemed both awed and satisfied. “Truly so.”
He didn’t see the strange look that crossed Ganymede’s face as he watched the exchange. Zeus acted merciful, like he cared about mortals, but he handed out mere castoffs as consolation prizes. Ganymede’s father was grieving for his lost son, but was satisfied with a pair of horses as a replacement. Ganymede’s brother loved him but was willing to sacrifice him for the good of the kingdom—and, coincidentally, for his own gain. Ganymede understood all three of them like water understands a jar, but he also hated them for what they had done. For what they w
ere doing.
“If everything is fine, then we’ll be off,” Zeus boomed. He slapped Ganymede’s back, and Ganymede felt a rush of affection despite himself. “Ready, Ganymede?”
“Of course, my lord.”
Tros thanked Zeus yet again with another arthritic bow, and Iris flung out one hand. Her bright, multi-colored rainbow wove itself up from the beach, up to the air, up to the sky. Tros waved good-bye as Ganymede rose with Zeus, Eros, and Iris up to Olympus.
Iris, Ganymede decided, was showing off, because the journey to Olympus took several moments, and Ganymede was able to watch the earth receding beneath his feet. Cold, clean-smelling air rushed past him, whipping his hair. Beside him, Zeus seemed to be casting about, still irritated and distracted. Just before they arrived at Olympus, he reached out to touch Ganymede’s cheek, then checked himself, shaking his head slightly as if he realized he must be wrong. In that moment, realization turned Ganymede’s stomach cold. It was the hairs of Prometheus. Zeus was sensing them somehow, and they were bothering him. It had started back in his bedchamber, and it was growing worse. Ganymede shot a frightened glance at Iris and Eros and saw that they were figuring the same thing.
They reached the great golden gates of Olympus, and Zeus turned to Ganymede. “I’ve barely seen you lately. Perhaps the two of us should take a longer stroll around Olympus together.”
Ganymede forced a pleasant smile, though his insides shook. The longer he had the hairs with him in Zeus’s presence, the more likely it became that Zeus would find them. “Uh, sure,” he managed. “That’d be—”
“Aw, Uncle,” Iris interrupted. She zipped up to Zeus and clung to his bicep like a bit of bright gauze. “I never get to spend any time with you these days. It’s been two or three decades since we’ve had a nice walk and talk. I miss you. Am I not good enough for the great and powerful king?” She batted her eyelashes in a completely fake, outrageous way that would have made Ganymede crack up if he hadn’t been so nervous.
Zeus, always happy to be flattered, turned away for a moment to talk to her. Eros made a wild gesture behind Zeus’s back and Ganymede’s thoughts raced. Iris could probably keep him distracted for a bit, but Ganymede couldn’t actually leave Zeus’s presence without being dismissed. How could he get Zeus to—?
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