I make a show of turning off my phone screen and giving my mother my full attention. “You’ve decided on this course of action, so don’t be shy now.”
Another person would flinch in the face of my mild tone with the threat of violence threaded beneath it. Aphrodite just laughs. “Eros, darling, you really are too much. After that stunt Demeter pulled last fall with her other daughter and Hades, she really thinks she can bypass me completely and set up Psyche as the next Hera. Over my dead body. Or, rather, over hers.”
My chest goes strangely tight, but I ignore it. “If you’re so furious at Demeter, then do something about her, rather than the daughter.”
“You know better.” She flicks that away with her fingertips. “Both mother and daughter need to be taught a lesson. Demeter has been throwing her weight around, thinking she’s anything other than a glorified farmer. This will bring her down a notch.”
Only my mother would consider the death of a child to be bringing someone down a notch.
But then, she’ll do anything to maintain her power. Aphrodite is responsible for a number of things, but her most popular task is arranging marriage between the rich and elite within Olympus. The Thirteen and their families, yes, but also those in the wider circle of influence that never quite make it into the parties at Dodona Tower.
With Demeter inching in on her territory, it’s no wonder my mother’s head is about to explode. She arranged all three marriages for the last Zeus—the fucker kept killing off his wives, which suited my mother quite nicely as she loves a wedding and hates everything that follows. Securing a new Hera for the new Zeus is her top priority, and it seems like Demeter is determined to launch Psyche into the position of Hera without consulting Aphrodite.
I try to picture it, but my mind rebels at the thought. All I can see is the line of concentration between Psyche’s brows as she bandaged me up. Surely someone foolish enough to show kindness to the son of their enemy is the same kind of someone who will be eaten alive in the position of Hera.
I clear my throat. “How’s Zeus doing these days? Does he not like any of your eligible options?” Up until a few months ago, he was Perseus, but names are the first thing sacrificed at the altar of the Thirteen. Once upon a time, we were friends, but Olympian life has a way of forcing people apart. The older we got, the more Perseus became embroiled in training to become the next Zeus. And me? Well, my life took an equally dark path. We’re still friends, I guess, but there’s a distance there that neither of us can quite recover. I don’t even know where to begin to try.
I let the thought drift away. Perseus has been Zeus’s heir for his entire life. He knew he’d take the title when his father died. If it happened a bit earlier than anyone expected…well, he’s more than capable of handling it. It’s not my problem. It can’t be my problem. After all, I didn’t kill the man.
“Don’t change the subject,” she snaps. “Ever since Persephone ran off and shacked up with Hades, Olympus is unbalanced. Now Demeter thinks she’s going to pair up another daughter with another legacy position? What’s next? Marrying off that feral older daughter of hers to Poseidon?” She huffs. “I think not. Someone needs to check Demeter, and if no one else will step up, then we’ll have to.”
“You mean I’ll have to. You might be demanding a heart, but we both know that I’m the one doing all the work.” I have no desire for someone to start calling for my head, so I try to keep the murders to a minimum. It’s so much easier to remove an opponent with a well-placed rumor or simply observe them until their own actions provide the ammunition for their downfall. Olympus is filled to the brim with sin, if one believes in that sort of thing, and no one in the Thirteen’s shining circle is without their fair share of vices.
Except, apparently, Demeter’s daughters.
They’ve tried hard to stay out of the spotlight, and it even worked…at least up until a few months ago. Ever since the old Zeus decided he wanted Persephone for his own—for all the good that did him—Olympus has gone rabid for the Dimitriou sisters. After all, Persephone’s story seems like an epic one for the ages, the kind of shit the gossip sites eat right up. Zeus drove her right into Hades’s arms, which in turn brought Hades out of the shadows of the lower city. No one saw that coming.
Zeus and the rest of the upper city like to pretend Olympus stops at the River Styx. Hades was something of a dirty little secret only the Thirteen and a few choice others had knowledge of. Now he’s out in the open and the entire power balance of Olympus is in flux. It will be months yet before things settle, possibly longer.
Hades’s romance with Persephone has only amped up Olympus’s fascination with the Dimitriou sisters. They’re all attractive, but none of them quite fit. Persephone always had her eyes on the horizon, her determination to find a way out of the city clear to anyone with a drop of perception to their name. Callisto, the oldest, is just as feral as my mother claims. She’s constantly getting into fights or saying things she shouldn’t, a blatant refusal to play Olympus’s power games that people both resent and are drawn to. Eurydice, the youngest, is pretty and sweet and far too naive for someone in this city.
And then there’s Psyche. It’s not just that she’s different physically from her sisters—she’s just flat-out different. She plays the game and plays it well, all without seeming to. She’s got this unassuming thing going on, but I’ve been watching her long enough to notice that she never makes a move by accident. I can’t prove it, of course, but I think she’s got just as savvy a brain in her head as her mother does.
None of that explains what happened the night of Zeus’s party. If Psyche were really as conniving as her mother, she never would have let herself get caught alone with me. She wouldn’t have patched me up. She wouldn’t have done any of the things that happened from the moment I saw her in that hallway.
I don’t have much of a moral center, but even I think it’s shitty to reward her kindness by ending her life.
“Eros.” Mother snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Stop daydreaming and do this task for me.” She smiles slowly, her blue eyes going icy. “Bring me Psyche’s heart.”
“Have you really thought this through?” I raise my brows, working to keep my expression disinterested. “She’s rather beloved by hundreds of thousands of Olympians—at least according to her social-media follower counts.”
I realize my mistake the second Aphrodite sneers. “She’s a fat girl with little style and no substance. The only reason MuseWatch and the other sites follow her around is because she’s a novelty. She’s not even close to my league.”
I don’t argue with her because there’s no point, but the truth is that Psyche is gorgeous and has a style that sets trends in a way Aphrodite can only dream of. Which is exactly the problem. My mother’s decided to take down two birds with one stone. “I wasn’t aware you were in competition.”