Heart on Fire (The Kingmaker Chronicles Book 3)

by Amanda Bouchet

  “I figured you’d muck something up and need my help. As it turns out, you only nearly broke the Origin’s heart and sent her baby into hysterics, made her husband choose between staying with his wife and child and sealing a death sentence for his youngest sister, and scared a little girl half out of her wits.” With a sharp downward thrust, Athena plants the blunt end of her spear eight inches into the ground, cracking the hard earth in every direction. She slowly claps, wearing irony like a crown. “Well done.”

  Ares’s strong, scarred face mottles with rage. Persephone looks peeved as well, having clearly been included in Athena’s scathing reprimand.

  Kaia steps out from Griffin’s shadow. “I’m not a little girl.” There’s a tremor in her voice, but it doesn’t sound like fear. It rings like a bold and fiery fusion of emotion and ferocity.

  Athena’s head swivels smoothly on her long neck, reminding me of the owl I thought was her, or at least her emissary, outside the Chaos Wizard’s house by the Frozen Lake. Her odd eye color, much like a raptor’s, heightens the impression.

  “My, my, you’re a feisty one.” A small smile plays around the corners of Athena’s mouth, and her suddenly amused expression is both reassuring and utterly frightening at the same time. “You might have done well under Ares’s command.”

  “I wasn’t going to throw her into any wars,” Ares grumbles, although he’s looking at Kaia like he almost regrets it. I’m not sure I can blame him. Kaia’s words are the anvil, her spirit the fire. She’s only fifteen, and she’s already in the forge that hammers out legends and heroes. “I was going to give her to Aphrodite as a handmaiden. She would have been fine, living a long, comfortable life with countless males falling in adoration at her feet.”

  Kaia’s eyes brighten with obvious interest. She’s naturally curious, experiencing all sorts of new feelings, and as far as I know, she’s never been kissed. Her sharp, imaginative mind is taking her on a wild ride right now. In all honesty, mine is, too.

  Griffin tenses beside me, and he was already impossibly rigid to begin with. Leave it to my insanely overprotective, traditional husband to appear more appalled at the idea of his sister ending up in some sort of Olympian love-court than on the battlefield. If the alarmed, almost panicked look on his face is any indication, he’s probably picturing Kaia right now laughing drunkenly with Aphrodite while virile demigods take turns lapping wine from her navel. That’s what I’m seeing, anyway.

  I nudge him, and he blinks.

  “If you were just going to give Kaia to Aphrodite, then you might as well give Piers to me,” Athena reasons.

  It’s my turn to blink. What? Why?

  “Good question,” Persephone mutters, as if I’d just said that out loud.

  I glance at her sharply, my eyes narrowing. “You are reading my mind! Oh my Gods, do you do that all the time?”

  I turn to Ares in horror. “And you?” Heat blasts through me. I’m not often embarrassed, but right now, there’s cause. No one should know even half of what went on in my head between the ages of twelve and fifteen, and especially not him.

  Persephone scoffs. “Goodness, no. We were always in our muted forms around you, which blocks out a great deal of knowledge and puts us all at a disadvantage. When we were with you, we didn’t know what was happening on Olympus, in the Underworld, with our enemies, with allies… But at least toning himself down meant that big brute never accidentally killed you.” She jerks her head toward Ares, who glowers in response.

  “It takes concentrated effort to read a mind when we’re in human form. I did it with you, at first, to try to get to know you faster. But your thoughts were always so dark and violent that I mostly stopped. After a while, that faded somewhat, but then there was just too much sarcasm to bear.”

  I snort, the knot in my chest starting to untangle loop by loop. She’s still Selena. She’ll still tease me, and love me, give me frustrating half-answers, and tell me when I’m wrong. Right then, I realize I haven’t lost her.

  She smiles. She’s definitely reading my mind.

  “Oikogeneia,” Persephone says warmly, using the old language.

  The ancient word for family doesn’t send a potent shock through me like the first time she used it, claiming me as her own. That bond has already been forged, and the magic in it was so intense I should have guessed there was more to her than a powerful Magoi woman running a circus. There was a Goddess, and real family, because in a roundabout way and about a hundred generations apart, she’s my aunt.

  “Back to the question at hand.” Ares examines Athena, traces of wariness and reserve creeping into his voice. “Why do you want Piers?”

  “We’re all in agreement—for once.” Athena rolls her eyes, showing a frightening amount of white, and then gestures vaguely toward Griffin and me. “We need to keep these two together so they can get on with what they’re supposed to do. Kaia should stay here, but Piers can go. Let me take him to Attica. I have scientists running amok with sensitive information.” She shrugs, as if it matters, but not all that much. “He might be of use.”

  Scientists? Does she mean alchemists?

  Persephone cocks her head, studying the other Goddess’s face. “You’re worried,” she finally says.

  Athena tenses, if the slight stiffening of her rather prominent jaw counts as tensing. “They may have forgotten all about worshipping me and lost their magic when they did, but Attica is still my world.”

  Ares grins all of a sudden, looking almost devious with excitement. “They do have interesting weapons there.”

  Athena turns a glare on him that would frost icicles. “I’ll thank you not to stir things up. Again. And you would like anything capable of mass destruction,” she adds bitterly.

  “Mass destruction?” I ask. “Like Galen Tarva?”

  All three Gods laugh at me. Laugh! At least they’re finding common ground.

  “So, can I have him?” Athena’s tone goes back to neutral, almost bored, but she’s not fooling me anymore. I doubt she’s fooling anyone else, either. If she’s here, and she asked for Piers, she wants him.

  I glance at Piers. He looks totally defeated, and I get the impression he doesn’t really care what happens to him after this.

  “You’ll owe me,” Ares says.

  Athena’s brown irises flare with hints of power-infused red and gold. Then her eyes narrow to aggravated slits. “Owe you what?” she asks.

  “An audience with your father. Zeus hasn’t heard me out in decades.” Ares turns to me and winks. “He put me in charge of you as a punishment. Olympian idiot. That was the most fun I’d had in an age.”

  I can’t help smiling, even though it’s weak. He was the best part of my life growing up, the only good part—him and Eleni. “Punishment for what?” I ask.

  “For causing and prolonging conflict in Atlantis,” Persephone answers for him. “Poseidon still hates you, by the way.”

  Ares looks perfectly all right with that. “He’s not so fond of you either after you poked him with his own trident the other day.”

  Uh-oh. That was because of me.

  Persephone shrugs. “He was moving too slowly.”

  “Or you’re too attached.”

  Persephone snorts. “We’re all too attached. Don’t even pretend that you’re not. You’re even more revoltingly sentimental than I am.” She nods toward his hand. “You still wear her hair around your wrist.”

  My heart slamming in my chest, I look more closely at the thick, dark cord around Ares’s wrist. I’d hardly noticed it, thinking it was some sort of braided rope bracelet, but it’s not. I know exactly what it is now.

  I was ten, small but fierce. He’d bested me on the training field—as always—but I kept fighting with a broken arm, cuts and bruises, and one eye swollen shut.

  Thanos dodged every knife I threw at him, got behind me, grabbed my hair
in his big fist, and then started dragging me toward the castle with a frustrated curse. But I wouldn’t stop. I kept hissing, spitting, and twisting like a slippery little snake, landing blows and shouting that I wasn’t done yet. I was never done, because I was so determined to beat him one day.

  “Enough, little monster. Time to find the healer, or you’ll be weak for days.”

  And that would have left me vulnerable to my brothers. To Mother.

  I still wouldn’t listen. If I fought hard enough, I was sure I could finally win. He held on to my hair and pulled until my eyes watered. I wasn’t getting anywhere with my thrashing and yanking, so I drew the last knife I had in my belt and cut off my hair above his grip. The second I could, I spun around and plunged the dagger into his thigh with a bloodcurdling scream of triumph.

  Thanos had looked at me then, with my long hair still clutched in his fist, like I’d just become an entirely different creature. One he liked even better. It was the first and only time I ever drew his blood.

  Staring at his bracelet now, I lift my hand and touch my head, memory’s ghost still flitting through my mind. The morning of that training session, my hair had started out longer than it is today. The day had ended with a bushy tangle of barely chin-length curls.

  The following morning, Mother had slapped me and said I looked like a boy. Father, a nonentity in my life, hadn’t recognized me for days. Thanos had given me a rust-colored scarf to cover the mess I’d made. He’d patted his thigh where I’d stuck him with my knife and told me he’d dyed the cloth in his own blood.

  Remembering his pride in me that day, I get the most horrifying urge to cry. “You kept me alive all these years.”

  Ares shrugs. “I was nowhere about after you left Castle Fisa. The others made sure of that.”

  “No, you were here.” I press my hand to my chest. His training was never about hurting me—or my trying to hurt him back. It was about skill, yes, but also about perseverance, about finding inner strength, both mental and physical, when the wells of each seemed not just dried up but completely drained and destroyed. His often-brutal methods taught me that giving up is never an option. A true warrior fights through pain. Through anything. Through everything.

  “You’re not dead until you’re on the far side of the Styx,” I murmur. It’s what he always said. And I know that better than anyone for having nearly been there. Until you’ve paid the ferryman and taken his boat, there’s always one more swing, one more kick, one more bite if it comes to that. That lesson never left me. Or failed me.

  The urge to cry gets worse. “I owe you my life.”

  Athena huffs, half rolling her eyes again. “Let’s not exaggerate. Now”—she rubs her hands together—“terms.”

  I glance at Piers again, still reeling from seeing Ares wearing my braided hair around his wrist. Not even the mention of terms appears to interest Piers, though. He’s staring at Kaia, but his expression looks dull and unfocused.

  Griffin watches his brother as well. Anger burns brightly in Griffin’s eyes, stoked hotter by terrible hurt. I slip my hand into his, squeezing gently. He doesn’t look at me, but after a moment, he grips my hand back so hard it aches.

  I return my focus to the Olympians because looking at Griffin is breaking my heart. Piers’s betrayal must have shattered him on a deep level. Now, perhaps even worse, he’s about to lose his brother forever before he has time to even try to understand or forgive.

  Ares glares at Piers. “He has to pay for what he tried to do to my little monster.”

  “She has a name,” Persephone snaps out impatiently.

  “I know,” Ares snaps back. “It’s Little Monster.”

  “No, it’s Catal—”

  “Not important,” I interrupt. “What do you mean by terms?” I ask Athena.

  The look Athena levels on me is so icy I get chills. She jerks her spear from the ground and then flips it in her hand, pointing it straight at me. For a terrifying second, I think she’s going to run me through.

  Her eyes narrow. “You’re just like Artemis said. Irreverent in the extreme.”

  I swallow. I guess I overstepped. Or she’s not used to me. Probably both.

  Athena thumps her spear against her shield, startling everyone. Apparently, that’s her way of opening negotiations. Better than skewering me, at least.

  “He’ll be fluent in the first ten languages he hears,” she announces.

  Good Gods! How many do they have?

  “Hundreds. Attica’s big,” Athena answers, as if I’d spoken out loud.

  Goose bumps flare down my arms. I don’t want the Gods in my head. I don’t want anyone in my head.

  Persephone scowls. “His brain will explode.”

  “And that’s not even a punishment. That’s a reward,” Ares grumbles. “He craves knowledge.”

  “He has to be useful,” Athena points out, her tone a clear indication that she thinks we’re all a torch short of being bright. “Six languages, then.”

  Ares glowers at her, crossing his arms. “Three.”

  Athena flashes her teeth. It’s not a smile. “Fine. But no fewer or there’s practically no point.”

  Ares takes his time considering. “Done. As long as he remembers everything about his life here—especially today. That will be punishment for years to come.”

  I look back and forth between the Olympians and Piers. On the one hand, Piers should be tearing himself up inside. On the other, believing he feels intense remorse confuses my own feelings. It’s so much easier to just despise someone.

  Athena tilts her head, studying Piers. She eventually agrees to Ares’s stipulation. “Just not at first,” she adds. “He’ll need to adjust without any of that in the way.”

  “Then when?” Ares asks.

  “Something will trigger his memories. When the time is right.”

  “What?” the God demands.

  “I’ll decide on the way,” Athena replies through tightly gritted teeth.

  A muscle jumps in Ares’s cheek, but then he nods. Athena’s answer seemed pretty vague to me, but apparently it’s good enough for him.

  Athena nods back before thumping her spear across her shield again, closing negotiations, I guess.

  “Time to say goodbye.” Athena’s voice comes to us from out of thin air because she disappears before suddenly reappearing again right next to Piers, his upper arm already gripped in her large hand. Piers doesn’t even react, while Griffin, Kaia, and I all startle in surprise. In fact, Piers doesn’t look at her or seem to care about Athena or her negotiations at all. He just keeps staring at Griffin and Kaia like he’s dead inside.

  An ache tugs at my chest, and something inside of me shifts. Despite my best efforts to hold on to an everlasting, Olympian grudge, my hatred decides to swallow itself whole.

  Griffin still holds my hand. I have my husband and an unshakable faith in our bond. I have a baby growing inside me. I have our friends and family. We have two realms and a populace swelling behind us on a wave of hope that I will keep alive for them, no matter what, even if it kills me, because the people of Thalyria need Elpis. After generations of oppression and living in fear, we have it within us, and within our grasp, to overcome the evils of this world and to not only survive, but to finally thrive.

  Realization spreads through me, both stunning and frightening in its proportions.

  Oh Gods. I don’t just represent Elpis. I am Elpis—the personification and spirit of hope.

  The knowledge hits me like a God Bolt, nailing me to the spot. Responsibility is a heavy mantle, and my shoulders nearly break under its sudden weight.

  Persephone slides me a satisfied look, nodding once. Ares nods, too. They’re telling me I’m right. Elpis isn’t just an abstract concept or an ideology to follow; it’s me. Flesh and blood me. I’m an idea in human form.

  Fast a
nd jumbled and dizzying, thoughts crash through my head like a storm. I don’t have the luxury of denial anymore. I have to integrate and accept a different reality, a new paradigm that completely alters my view of myself and the world around me, and I have to do it now.

  I force slow, even breaths. It seems fitting that this huge part of me would have come from Pandora’s Box, dragged through all the darkness and violence known to man and beast and God alike, yet I would somehow be forged from the one intangible substance that remains steadfast and unbreakable through even the worst pain, suffering, evil, and plight. Hope.

  Tears sting my eyes. Piers has nothing. No one. Not even Elpis.

  “No! Make him forget!” I don’t know if anyone listens to me. I only know that the Gods have their own set of rules, and morals, and as far as I know, little capacity for compassion, and even less for forgiveness.

  Piers jerks, seeming to finally wake up. He looks at me like he’s seeing me for the first time, and the sight of me hurts his eyes. Motionless at my side, Griffin is a shadow of his usual vibrant self. Kaia steps forward, leaking a sob, her hands outstretched to the brother she’s about to lose forever. I start to follow her—I’m not sure why—but Griffin tightens his grip on my hand, stopping me. A heartbeat later, he grabs Kaia with his free hand and pulls her back.

  Griffin moves away from Piers, taking us both with him. It’s not just a step back; it’s a message that opens a giant emotional abyss between Piers and us.

  His eyes meet Griffin’s, and Piers flinches. Then he and Athena are gone.

  CHAPTER 6

  The two remaining Gods disappear into the ether shortly after, and Griffin, Kaia, and I ride back to Castle Tarva in total silence, leading Piers’s big roan horse behind us. I don’t know where Griffin’s thoughts are leading him, but I hope they’re far from mine. Even after everything that’s happened, and the Elpis stunner I still can’t quite wrap my head around, all I can think about is how his attraction and devotion to me are somehow not his choice. If the Gods hadn’t intervened, would he have looked at me twice? Would I still have been his first, his only choice?