Chapter 19

The moment Iris lands, my face connects with the ground.

I would kiss the grass if it didn’t just punch me in the eye.

Heaving myself upward, I brush the dirt from the clothes Callie loaned me. She’s probably going to chew me out for getting them dirty.

Iris doesn’t give me the chance to decide whether I’m going to puke or not. She just grabs me again and pulls me forward.

The world is still spinning on a too-tight axis, but I can make out the building in front of me. It’s pillared like the Pantheon, but it’s smaller and cleaner. Less vines and forbidden elegance, more sterile and unwelcome.

Right.

Zeus has Hermes. I’m here to plead my case to Hera.

I don’t even know what my case is.

“What am I supposed to say?” I ask, my voice bubbling over the bile rising in my throat.

Iris doesn’t slow her steps as she continues to drag me behind her. “She already knows the truth,” she says in a clipped tone. She’s not even breathing heavily. I feel like my lungs are going to explode. “She’s already angry they kept an immortal from Olympus. Don’t say anything stupid.”

That’s like half my personality.

“That clears exactly nothing up.” My legs scramble into a jog to keep up with her long strides. “How do I stop Zeus from hurting Hermes?”

Immediately, her steps halt. She whips around to face me too quickly and I knock into her…firmness. She’s tiny, but with the weight of a fucking tank.

“You cannot stop Zeus from hurting him.” Her tone pierces something in me, and anxiety unfurls through my stomach. “He’s already suffering, and it’s your fault.”

No. No, there has to be a way to fix this. This can’t be the end of everything we’ve built. The man who escorted a king through enemy territory wouldn’t give up everything so easily for some girl with a filthy kitchen.

This doesn’t make sense.

I guess it makes perfect sense.

He’s already suffering. And it’s my fault.

I knew that already. I knew it a long time ago.

But hearing it makes it real.

I don’t want it to be real. It can’t be real.

She continues on despite the fracture in my brain.

“You will beg Hera to give you a chance to make things right. She does not like Hermes, but she tolerates Zeus even less.” She turns away before I have the chance to process her words, her grasp on my arm pulling me along with her. “You are a secret which has been kept from her for too long, and she will not take kindly to that fact.”

Hermes said something similar when we walked into the festival. That I was the only secret he’d kept from the gods.

He knew.

He knew something was wrong. Maybe he was trying to tell me something. He said he could predict the future. He said I already looked like I belonged.

What does he know that I don’t?

What has he been keeping from me?

I don’t have time to process anything. My mind feels like it’s being squeezed through a bottleneck of lies, and I’m being escorted into a building that houses one of the most powerful beings in all of existence.

The queen of all the gods. The woman who threw her own son from her throne simply because he was too ugly.

She’s going to rip me apart.

But I have to try.

This is what I came here for, after all. I thought I’d have time. I thought this would be my choice. I definitely didn’t think I’d be in a pressure cooker of divine suffering.

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There’s no doors, no entrance to the building. It’s a floor and a ceiling and too many pillars to count. A labyrinth of columns carved with messages I can’t read. Even the floor has words etched into it.

Despite the lack of walls, all light is swallowed by darkness as we weave further into the building. Iris navigates expertly, leaving me to dodge and twist around the pilings.

My shoulder knocks into one every few steps, leaving me with an ache I’m sure will end in a nasty looking bruise. Even then, Iris doesn’t slow.

Eventually, there’s a light. Then lights. Then, the room is lit up with enough torches to burn an entire city.

At the center of it all is a single throne. It’s as tall as it is wide, decorated with carvings and sculptures of birds and too large feathers.

Perched in the center, her legs crossed in an overly pompous manner, is the Peacock Princess in all her glory.

Hera.

Her fingers thrum on the armrest, her head cocked to the side lazily as she watches us approach.

She’s much less casual looking here than at the festival. Her hair piece has been traded for a crown of blue and green feathers, each stretching far above her head.

Her eyes glow a deep blue, the reflection of the fires dancing around in her irises like a personal threat.

If looks could kill, I’d already be six feet under.

Her gown shimmers in all shades of blue and teal and green as she uncrosses her legs and leans back.

Iris stops a few feet in front of her and drops to a knee.

I realize too late that I’m supposed to follow suit, until Hera cocks an eyebrow at me.

My knee cracks painfully against the marble floor when I finally lower myself into a bow.

The only sound is her fingers against the throne as she watches us.

I don’t know if I’m supposed to speak first. In the movies, they always wait until the king speaks to even look up.

So, that’s what I do.

Even my breath stutters to a stop.

“You’ve come to beg for your messenger.”

Finally, I can exhale.

Her voice is as gravelly as I imagined it would be. She sounds younger than she looks, her tone that of a young woman even as her skin wrinkles.

“He came to me to do the same for you only a short time ago. Why should I hear your pleas for mercy?”

Her skirts shuffle as she stands, her bare feet smacking against stone as she approaches me.

I only dare to look up when her finger hooks under my chin and forces my gaze upward.

“Why are you here, non-mortal?”

Oh god, she’s terrifying.

I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to feel. I want to leave. I can’t be here.

I have to be here. I have to say something.

Say something. Say anything. Do something, Alira!

A deep breath in, then out.

“It’s my fault.”

Her lips quip into a little smile.

“All of it. Everything.” My throat closes around tears I didn’t know were already spilling down my cheeks. “I prayed, all he did was answer. I asked him to stay. I got attached too fast. I—” My breath is coming too quickly. My vision is narrowing. I can feel the panic rising in my chest. “He doesn’t deserve any of this. I do. It’s my fault. Not his.”

I can’t breathe. I can’t see. I can’t think. Everything is closing inward.

I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t do this.

I can’t have a panic attack right now. This is the worst possible thing that could be happening right now.

He’s going to die, and it’s my fault. Everything is my fault. Everything. All the time. I ruin things. I ruined my mom, my dad, my sister. I ruined Hermes. I don’t even know if all those things matter anymore. If I’m not mortal, how much of my life has been a lie? How much of Hermes was a lie?

What am I even doing here? I shouldn’t be here. I should’ve just gone out for drinks with Sophia that night.

I don’t deserve Hermes.

Hera’s voice cuts through the veil of my thoughts.

“I can see the truth behind your tongue.”

My eyes shoot open to see her still looming over me. Still watching me like I’m some pawn in her game.

Her eyes narrow skeptically as she tilts her head. “How much are you willing to sacrifice for a god?” Her hands curl at her sides, fisting before her fingers straighten into razors. “If you’ve come to plead for his safety, I want to see you bleed.”

“Everything.” There’s no question. “Anything.” I won’t take it back, even if she spits on me.

“My mind.” He already lives in every thought I try not to have.

“My body.” Intentional or not, he’s woven into every part of me already.

“My soul.” I don’t know what I am without him anymore. Maybe I never did.

If she wants blood, she can have it. Just let him live.

Her lip curls in disgust. “Pathetic.”

She turns away from me, striding back to her throne.

Pathetic.

It is, isn’t it?

I was so willing to let him into my life. I damn near begged him to take over the sad little life I’d built for myself. I guess pathetic is the perfect word.

If she’s not going to help, is that it? Is it done? Am I just supposed to accept that Hermes is gone? That Zeus own him? I can’t do that. I can’t just walk away like nothing happened. I can’t pretend he didn’t happen.

I can’t.

I won’t.

My legs scream in protest as I lift myself off the ground. I will not stand around while Hermes is destroyed at my expense.

He promised me he wouldn’t leave again. I left this time. I chose to walk out after an argument I’m not even sure mattered.

I will not be passive anymore. I will not let Olympus take him from me.

The torches are engulfed by shadow. Everything turns into nothing, and darkness flows down my throat and around my ribs.

Iris gasps from somewhere in the room. Not next to me anymore. Somewhere far away. Somewhere I am not.

I am engulfed by shadow. I am the shadow.

I am the whisper in the wind that tussles the hair on Hera’s temple.

You will not turn away from me.

You cannot blot out the night.