“Prometheus’s attendance would have been appreciated for his gift of forethought, but in many ways, his predictions would have been redundant. We here—my siblings and cousin Metis—believe the long-time prophecy that Cronus’s time on the throne will come to an end. We volunteer to help facilitate this change, as much as we can, given that we have sworn oaths to uphold the God of Gods’ throne and cannot break our vows without suffering great consequences.”
“What prophecy?” I asked.
Metis pointed at my ring. “That string came from the oracles,” she said. “They told you a child of Cronus would dethrone him. Such prophecy was predicted long ago.”
She touched my ring with her fingertip. It began to glow, and she went perfectly still, hardly breathing. Then her open eyes clouded over with a milky film.
“Is she all right?” Theo asked.
“She’s having a vision,” Helios replied.
My ring glowed softly, the same color as Metis’s wise eyes. In that vast, heavenly haze, huge stars shone. They began to shrink, accelerating as more and more of them sped away from me until I could see the whole of the universe from her perspective.
Metis blinked, and her eyes returned to normal. My ring went dim.
“He’s watching you,” she whispered.
She dropped my hand and looked down, mumbling to herself. I wasn’t seeking her counsel, but I did want to know who was watching me, for I sensed she knew about the dark figure in the water, the Star Eater.
Metis drank her entire chalice of nectar, her hand shaking. “I’ve seen what must be done. Cronus must consume a magical draught that will weaken him. The draught comes from a rare violet found only on Crete. Zeus, do you remember my letter? Did you do what I asked?”
“Did I do what you asked?” he demanded lightheartedly. He shoved his hand in his pocket and removed the violet with red-rimmed petals that he had picked from Ida’s garden.
Metis took it from him. “I will have the draught made by morning.”
“Then what?” I asked.
“Then you, Althea Lambros, will poison Cronus.”
Everyone’s attention turned to me.
“Her?” Helios asked. “The . . . mortal?”
“I have foreseen the hand by which the Almighty is weakened, and it is hers.”
No one spoke. I desperately wanted to know what Zeus and Theo thought, but neither contributed his opinion. I would do whatever necessary to release my sisters, but poisoning the God of Gods? That was a task better suited for a Titan.
“Are you certain? The oracles said . . .” I trailed off as Metis shook her head.
“This is your path,” she insisted. “Yours, and your sisters’.” The Oceanid’s expression welcomed no argument. “For the concoction, I will need hair from all your heads,” she said, indicating Theo, Zeus, and me. “You will all play a part. Your mutual allegiance will make the draught stronger.”
She plucked a hair from Zeus’s head, and he winced. Theo tugged a single strand of his own, and Metis insisted that I pass her three of my hairs. She laid them next to the violet, and her eyes briefly flashed milky white again.
“It has been set in motion,” she declared.
“When will this happen?” Zeus asked.
“Tomorrow it begins.”
“It is well, then,” Helios said with a strained smile.
He may have had quarrels with my role in this plan, but I dared not ask him or the other gods how they felt about bestowing the responsibility of dethroning their ruler to a mortal woman.
Selene pushed her chair back from the table and stood. She bowed her head in farewell, and as she did, a voice filled my mind. I will watch over your sisters, Althea. Rest well this night.
This pledge from the goddess of the moon was a kindness I could never repay. I raised my cup and toasted her, just as Bronte always did.
“To the moon. May she ever shine.”
“To the moon,” Zeus echoed cheerfully.
Selene strode into the garden, where a groom waited with a white-winged horse not unlike those that pulled Helios’s chariot. A slave draped a shining hooded cloak over Selene’s shoulders. She put the hood over her head and mounted the horse sidesaddle. She waved and snapped the reins, and the winged steed launched into the night. They flew out over the pond, then rose steeply into the sky, soaring straight at the moon until they blended into the silver crescent, becoming one with the heavens.
Her departure changed the tone at the supper table. Helios stated he was tired from a long day of travel and excused himself. Zeus began to yawn. He and Metis left the table, him to go to bed and her to concoct the draught. Eos lingered until I had finished eating, then asked if I would like a tour of the mansion. Theo had continued to drink excessively and ignore me, so I decided that the discussion I wanted to have with him about his Titan father could wait, and I accepted her invitation.
We left the table and strolled through a maze of long, torchlit corridors.
“Your arrival is a blessing,” Eos said. “This is the most optimistic I’ve seen Helios in a long while. As the god of the sun, he sees everything, all the sorrows and pains of the world, day after day. It wears on him, and he has many opinions about how our uncle rules.”
I had always thought Titans were selfish monsters; I had never considered that any of them would care about the welfare of mortals.
“How does Selene cope with her responsibilities?” I asked.
“She, too, sees much heartache. Mortals use the cover of night to hide many of their misdeeds, but she has a more forgiving nature. Helios can be as harsh as the sun. He cares deeply about what becomes of the world. Everything his light touches has value and worth. He would make a fair ruler, but the intensity of his daily obligation would never leave him proper time to devote to a throne.” Eos stared up at the moon, at her sister. “Though I’m the youngest of us, my role is to ensure that both Selene and Helios fulfill the measure of their roles.”
“You look after them.”
“Just as you look after your older siblings, and now Zeus. You’ve taken him in as well.”
I hadn’t thought of him as my responsibility, but that would explain why the Titans’ plot to dethrone Cronus left me uneasy. As Zeus’s betrothed, Metis was genuinely invested in his becoming the next Almighty, but nothing was stopping Eos, Selene, or Helios—or any Titan, for that matter—from seeking to take his throne.
Eos paused before the door to my chamber. Our tour of the grounds had ended.
“I’m returning home, to my mansion,” she said. “Before I go, I must warn you. Not everything you hear about Cronus is true. My uncle keeps counsel with Mnemosyne, the goddess of memory. When he doesn’t want others to know what he’s doing, he orders her to manipulate others’ memories in his favor. My father, Hyperion, protested loudly when my uncle swallowed his firstborn child. He visited the Aeon Palace to try and reason with him, and when he came home, he couldn’t remember having gone. Rhea herself refuses to be alone with Mnemosyne. Anyone who works in the palace, or who spends time with Cronus, could have had their recollections altered. Your mother figured out that her memory had been manipulated and went to Oceanus for help. His nourishing waters can restore some memories, but the person must first know their mind has been tampered with, which most never realize.”
Changing people’s memories was an unthinkable violation. What other truths might Cronus have ordered Mnemosyne to alter?
“Was Oceanus able to heal my mother?”
“In more than one way. He restored some of her memories, and he also helped her move refugees out of Thessaly by providing them safe passage across the sea.”
My heart swelled. My mother had allied with a Titan, with the one god who had stood up to Cronus. “Did she say which of her memories Cronus had changed?”
“She never said, though I’m certain Oceanus could tell you.”
I was more and more intrigued to meet the god of the sea, but seeking him out would ha
ve to wait until after my sisters were safe. “Eos, have you had your memory tampered with?”
“That’s a tricky question, isn’t it?” she replied, her rosy lips turning downward. “For if my memory had been changed, I would likely not remember.”
I wrapped my arms around myself to ward off an inner chill. How many truths did I believe that were actually lies planted by the God of Gods to deceive the world?
“You should rest,” Eos said. “With the dawn comes new beginnings and new challenges.”
Between the revelation of Theo’s heritage, the vague magical draught plan, and the possibility that everything my mother had told me about Cronus might have been based on manipulated memories, I had plenty to worry about already. Despite their hospitality, I couldn’t quite bring myself to trust these Titans, particularly in regard to the Boy God. My only reassurance was that they could not kill their cousin Zeus, but the discussion of the magical draught made it evident that other tactics could be employed to weaken a Titan. Did these Titans truly wish for the God of Gods to fall and the Boy God to rise? Or was it all a ruse?
Until I knew, I couldn’t involve Zeus or Theo any more than I already had. Whatever fate had planned for me, I would go forward alone.
I bid good night to the goddess of the dawn, then went into my bedchamber and sat in the dark until I could no longer stand the torment of my own restless thoughts, and sleep claimed me.
21
A gentle lullaby filled my ears. I stood at the edge of the ravine in the forest, the same one I had fallen into on Crete, only, this time, the gap was filled with water and no rope was stretched across it. The lullaby, the one my mother would sing to me each night, stopped, and a voice called out from the other side.
“Althea.”
Mother stood across the ravine. Her figure was partly obscured by the night, but from what I could see of her in the starlight, she was as tall and strong as I remembered.
“My shooting star, you must be tired. Swim across and come rest with me awhile. It’s time for sleep.”
I dipped a finger in the still, dark water. The frigid temperature would be uncomfortable to swim in, but I hadn’t seen my mother in so, so long . . .
The sound of an infant’s crying came from across the way. Mother held the bundled baby snugly in her arms. “Althea, your little sister is waiting for you to meet her. I gave her a name. Swim across, and I’ll tell it to you.”
I could not refuse. I disrobed to my underclothes and slipped into the deep, frigid water. My mother began to sing again as she rocked the babe. I started across the ravine, swimming quickly to warm my muscles.
Something in the water brushed past my leg. I halted and spun in a circle, searching for a sign of what it was. Nothing was there, so I swam harder for the other side, following the sound of my mother’s singing. About halfway across, a cold hand wrapped around my ankle. I tried kicking free, but it gripped with bruising force and yanked me under, dragging me down, down, down into the abyss.
Suddenly, I was standing on a beach before a mountain range. Grim and dark, the gray sky roiled with thunderclouds. The side of the closest mountain was pocked with cells, cages that held Cyclopes and monstrous beasts with a thousand hands. In the highest prison, near the pinnacle of the mountain, two burning eyes stared out at me.
Release us, daughter.
I recognized Uranus by his wings. He was bigger now than the shadow I had seen in the sea and pond, but it was him all the same. The Star Eater.
Release us, and we shall conquer Cronus.
Uranus had good cause to destroy the Almighty, but he was trapped in Tartarus, and a mortal couldn’t set foot there without perishing.
We are the sky. The sun, moon, and stars are ours. Release us, and command the stars at my side. Touch them, and they will be your weapons to wield.
The hand let go of my ankle. As I kicked toward the surface, my head rang with Uranus’s thunderous voice.
I will wait, daughter. I will wait for you to rise . . .
I broke the surface, gasping.
My mother stood on the other side of the ravine, the crying baby in her arms. Her sad gaze peered straight into my soul.
“You have to go, Althea. Your sisters need you.”
“No, Mama. I’m coming. Wait for me.”
She stepped away from the water’s edge and sank into the night, humming. I swam to the embankment and pulled myself out of the water. Pushing to my feet, I sprinted after her. The singing stopped, but the baby’s cries surrounded me. Mama and the babe were nowhere in sight. The ache in my chest expanded into a cold gloom of grief. I was lost in the quiet woodland, alone.
“Please don’t leave again, Mama. I’ll do what I said. I’ll look after my sisters.”
The babe wailed on.
I woke with tears streaming down my face. Theo sat beside me, perched at the edge of my bed, singing. An all-encompassing calm rested upon my mind, soothing away my cares. My muscles relaxed and my tears dried up. As I started to fall back to sleep, a thought struck me.
“Your voice. It’s your Titan strength. I felt its influence before when you sang to me on the boat, and again the first night on the isle when you hummed to me in the tent.”
“Shh,” Theo said, stroking my hair. “Go back to sleep. You’ll have no more nightmares tonight.”
I cozied into the balm of his touch. This would be the final night for a while, if not for good, that I could soak in his nearness.
Theo sang again, his melodic voice shushing the turmoil in my heart. My last thought before I fell asleep was how odd it was that he had picked the same lullaby my mother always sang, as though he had also dwelled in my dreams.
I woke alone. Beside me on the bed lay a small green vial—the magical draught with which I would poison Cronus?
I slipped the vial into my pocket and went to find Metis. All of her mystical assurances that I, of all people, would face the Almighty and weaken him seemed preposterous in the light of day. Part of me hoped that impossible task would fall to someone else. I only had two days left to release my sisters before the Erinyes seized me.
The corridors were vacant. No footsteps or voices, not a slave to be seen coming or going. Helios and Eos would be gone to fulfill their duties, and perhaps Selene had her own mansion where she rested during the day, but where was Metis and everyone else?
I meandered up and down corridors and peeked in open doorways. Every room I paused to investigate was unoccupied. Backtracking, I went to the receiving hall where we had congregated the night before. No one was there either, and I still hadn’t seen a single slave in the mansion or garden. On the terrace, I found the dining table was set for breakfast. One of the chairs had been knocked to the ground on its side, and all of the cups were filled with wine.
“Theo?” I called. “Zeus? Is anyone here?”
My mind registered the full dishes of now-cold porridge and honey cakes, and the fallen chair, and I began to worry. Zeus would never leave a meal untouched.
Noises came from the garden, footsteps and sounds of men grunting. I glimpsed a familiar sight through the foliage—a soldier’s uniform.
Swiping a table knife, I slipped behind a hedge and stayed low. A group of soldiers jogged past. They were leaving the mansion and headed to the coastline. One of the gardeners or slaves had left a shovel nearby. I grabbed it and sneaked down a narrow path to the cliffs.
Helios’s private dock was far below in a sheltered cove. There, only one ship was moored—a giant trireme flying the blue-and-white alpha and omega of the First House. The gleaming vessel was the Almighty’s flagship, the pride and joy of his vast armada.
I sank low to the ground and watched as sailors loaded countless barrels of wine onto the trireme. They were pillaging Helios’s storehouse. I scanned the narrow shoreline for any familiar faces, and my breath caught. The liege men had come not only for spirits.
In plain sight of the working sailors, and guarded by a pair of soldiers, Zeus was
tied to a flagpole beside the docks by a thick rope around his middle. His head was drooped so his chin rested against his chest, and his arms and legs sagged. I couldn’t see Theo or Metis. I hoped that meant they were in hiding or had escaped. The soldiers had been at the mansion, though, as well as in the storehouse. Where else would Theo and Metis be?
Once I was confident that no additional guards were near Zeus, and the rest of the soldiers and sailors were preoccupied, I tucked the knife and shovel into the sash around my waist and started down the rock face. Holding on to the most secure ridges, I descended to a sheltered position near the flagpole, out of view from the docks.
By the time my feet touched the beach, my arms and legs shook from exertion. The pair of guards near Zeus stood opposite each other, their attention on the sailors who were almost finished loading the wine barrels onto the trireme.
I crept up behind the closest one and smashed the shovel over his head, knocking him out. The second guard turned at the sound. I jabbed him in the gut with the end of the shaft, then smacked him in the face with the broad side of the shovel. With both guards disabled, I tossed the shovel aside and ran to Zeus.
“Wake up,” I whispered hoarsely, cutting at his bindings with the dull table knife.
He slumped forward against the rope, his eyes half-closed, his head lolling. Though he appeared awake, he was far from lucid. After more vigorous sawing, the rope finally dropped to his feet, and he fell forward onto his knees.
“Ow,” he said, somewhat belatedly.
I slung his arm over my shoulders and tried lifting him. He might have been on the thin side for someone of his height, but he was still heavy as deadweight.
“Come on, Zeus,” I said, grunting. “You have to help me.”
“Althea?” he slurred. “I cannot feel my legs.”
“Did they drug you?”
“The last thing I remember is drinking wine at breakfast.” He tried rising and stumbled. I toppled over with him onto the sand, landing on his chest. His lips curved lazily. “Finally, I have you where I want you.”
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