“You what?”
I bite back a sigh and focus on my phone. It’s divided into three squares, each depicting one of my sisters, all with varying expressions of fury and disbelief on their faces. Eros, damn him, was right. This isn’t going to be an easy sell. “Eros and I are getting married. Tonight.”
Callisto’s camera moves as she paces back and forth in her room. “I’m going to kill him.”
“You can’t threaten to kill everyone who pisses you off,” Persephone says. “But in this case, I’m inclined to agree. Or break his legs, shove him in a box, and have him shipped out on the next boat leaving Olympus. I’m sure Poseidon wouldn’t notice.”
“Please stop threatening violence against my fiancé,” I say mildly.
Eurydice watches me, her eyes shadowed with sorrow. “It won’t work, Psyche. Aphrodite hates us because of Mother, and Eros is the weapon she uses to punish the things she hates.”
I know that better than all three of them at this point. I fight back a shiver. “My mind’s made up. Please support me in this.” I start to say that it’s true love, but the lie sticks to my tongue. “Aphrodite’s and Mother’s opinions on the marriage don’t matter.”
“That’s a bit shortsighted.”
I give Persephone a look. “Says the woman who ran away from Zeus and hooked up with the boogeyman of Olympus. Let’s not cast stones.”
My sister seems entirely unconvinced. “Hades didn’t earn his reputation. Eros has.”
I can’t argue that, so I go with the only thing I can. An honest plea. “I’m asking you to support me in this. I’m choosing to marry Eros, and I won’t change my mind.”
Eurydice looks like she’s going to cry. Callisto is the exact opposite; she has the same dangerous expression on her face as when she stabbed Ares’s offending hand or when she started that bar fight not too long ago. And Persephone? She’s watching me as if she’s never seen me before. Finally, she says, “If you were in trouble, you’d tell us, wouldn’t you?”
Not in a hundred years. Not when I’m up to my eyeballs and sinking fast. There’s nothing they can do to help, and if they try, all it will do is provide more opportunity for Aphrodite to remove me permanently. Worse, she might turn her vengeful gaze on my sisters, too. Dragging them down with me would be the height of selfishness, and I refuse to do it. So I hold my sister’s gaze and lie. “Of course.”
She sighs. “Mother is going to have a heart attack when she hears this.”
“No, she won’t, and you know it. She’s been looking for a way to stick it to Aphrodite for years, and once she calms down, she’ll realize this marriage is the perfect way to do so.” Even if it means I won’t marry Zeus the way she obviously wanted. I can’t afford to think about that too hard right now.
“‘When she calms down’ is one rather large caveat.” A puppy appears in Persephone’s screen, a cute little black mutt that licks her chin and makes an eager yipping sound. She pets his head distractedly. “Not now, Cerberus. I’m talking.”
Callisto curses. “This is bullshit. I’m not supporting this.” She hangs up before I can get a word in edgewise.
Eurydice shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Psyche. But you’re going to regret doing this. I can’t support it, either.” She hangs up, too.
I bite back a sigh. It’s no less than I expected, but hope springs eternal. Persephone is still petting Cerberus in a contemplative way. She finally says, “I trust your judgment. I don’t think this is the right course, but I suspect you’re not telling me everything. Last night, you were tagged in half a dozen posts around town with Hermes, and this morning, surprise, you’re marrying the son of our mother’s enemy.”
It’s everything I can do to keep my guilt off my face. “To be fair, half the Thirteen are Mother’s enemies.”
She doesn’t smile. “You went along with me when I asked for your support while I stayed with Hades after fleeing Zeus. You gave me the time and trust I needed to figure things out. It’d be hypocritical in the extreme not to support you right now, too.”
I snort. “I’m so glad you’ve come to that conclusion.”
“Hey, I love you and I’m worried about you. I am really tempted to come pull a Callisto, break down his door, and haul you over the river to the lower city.”
If I thought for a second that would work… But it won’t. Persephone already told me that she’s seen Eros in the lower city, and even revoking his invitation might not be enough to keep him out. It’s difficult to cross the River Styx without an invitation, but it’s not impossible. The barrier in place is a slightly weaker version of the one that surrounds Olympus as a whole. Like Poseidon with the external barrier, Hades has some control over who comes and goes from the upper city to the lower city. It’s not a perfect system, though.
Not to mention the fact that Eurydice and Callisto are here, both ideal backup targets for Aphrodite’s wrath. Next time she orders one of Demeter’s daughter dispatched, Eros might not take the time to have a conversation. He might simply strike.
I can’t let that happen.
“I want this,” I repeat for what feels like the twelfth time.
“If you change your mind, we’ll get you out.” No telling if she’s talking about her and her husband or her and our sisters, but neither option is a good idea. “We’ll be at the wedding, though. Hades and I.” Persephone hesitates. “Do you want me to try to convince Callisto and Eurydice to come as well?”
“No, it’s okay.” I can’t blame them for not wanting to attend our sham of a marriage ceremony, even if it stings. “But if you could invite Mother out to brunch, I’d really appreciate it. I need to get my things from the penthouse, and I can’t do that if I run the risk of seeing her there.” Time might have tempered my mother’s impulse control, but Callisto comes by her rage honestly. I wouldn’t put it past the two of them to lock me in my room until I see reason, which would just make this situation even messier.
“Consider it done. I’ll text you when it’s confirmed.”
“Thank you.”
She gives me a small smile. “Be careful, Psyche. Eros is dangerous in the extreme.”
I understand that far better than she ever will. I try for a smile in return. “I know. He’s a monster. But after tonight, he’s my monster.”
We hang up pretty quickly after that, and I take a few minutes to try to put my appearance to rights. Eros, thankfully, has a whole cabinet full of hair and skin products, but most of it is unfamiliar to me. I comb my hair and twist it up into a messy-chic crown around my head. I keep a small selection of makeup in my purse for touch-ups, which is a lifesaver right now. By the time I exit the bedroom, I look like a woman who just had an unexpected sleepover with her partner but still put together. It will have to do.
A divine smell draws me into the kitchen to find Eros finishing up a hash with potatoes, peppers, and fried eggs. It’s heavier than what I’d normally eat for breakfast, but I accept the plate he passes over and take a seat on one of the stylish iron stools that flank the kitchen bar. They’re not exactly comfortable, but they are pretty. I take a few bites, enough that Eros stops watching me and digs into his own meal.
We eat in a strangely comfortable silence, interspersed by our respective phones buzzing with notifications every few seconds. Eros gives his a dirty look. “How do you put up with this shit?”
“It’s necessary.” I learned early on that power is the only thing the upper crust of Olympus respects and that I’d never attain it by trying to imitate them. I had to go my own way while still playing the game—a careful balance that exhausts me more often than not. But it was working, at least until Aphrodite turned her vengeful gaze in my direction. I scroll through the notifications. Several are from my mother, growing increasingly irate. Another few are interview requests. “How long do you want to make them wait for interviews?”
He hesitates and finally says grudgingly, “I bow to your expertise in this.”
Surprising that he’ll willingly give up even this much control. I ignore the strange flare of warmth in my chest at the trust he’s placing in me. “I say we give it a week. A few pictures of the wedding, a few outings where they see us being the loving couple in public, and they’ll be so frothing at the mouth to get an exclusive scoop that they won’t bother to ask hard questions.” I have just the interviewer in mind for it, too, but I haven’t heard from her yet.
“Okay.” He stretches and then his hand lands lightly on the spot between my shoulder blades. I don’t flinch this time; I’m too busy trying not to melt as he trails his fingers over the nape of my neck. “I like your hair up.”
“I assure you that your preferences have absolutely nothing to do with how I’ll dress or act in the future.”
Eros chuckles, the sound low and strangely happy. “You are a constant surprise, Psyche. I like that, too.”
I don’t shrug off his hand. Even as I tell myself it’s practice for being in public, I know I’m a liar. I like the weight of his palm against my skin. I like how tenderly he traces his fingers down my spine. Believing that he’s actually affected and not simply adjusting to me the same way I’m adjusting to him…
He’s not. I’m no psychologist, but if Eros is a sociopath, I wouldn’t be surprised. He doesn’t seem to have the moral brakes most people do. Or maybe that’s just a side effect of being raised from birth by Aphrodite. Nature or nurture, the bottom line is that if he has emotions beyond amusement and irritation, he keeps them hidden deep down. And lust. We can’t forget about lust. Eros has that in spades.
Even so, this is all a lie, a game, even.
I don’t look up from my phone. “Why are you doing this?”
“I don’t want you dead.” He says it so simply, I flinch.
“What’s so special about me that I get spared?” He has bodies in his past. He’s admitted as much. “Is it because I’m Demeter’s daughter?”
He snorts. “No, that’s hardly a mark in your favor.”
“Then why?”
Eros stares hard at his plate. “I’ve done a lot of stuff I’m not proud of, hurt people who I thought were enemies at the time, only to find out later that the only thing they’d ever done wrong was to piss off my mother.” He shrugs. “After a while, it didn’t matter what they’d done, only that she commanded them to be punished.”
I still don’t understand. “But she commanded me to be punished.”
“Yeah, she did.” Eros stabs a piece of potato. “But like I said, I don’t want you dead. This is the only other way.”
I have no reason to trust him. None. He’s given his word, yes, but Olympus is filled with liars and cheats. Even my mother has been known to commit to a shady deal when the situation calls for it. Everyone in the city thinks that she and Hades have an alliance; they don’t. Instead, she traded her help for Hades’s attendance at six events each year. He shows up at her side, and people make the assumptions my mother wants them to make. It’s not the truth, though. The upper city might have forgotten how far she was willing to go to return Persephone to her engagement with the old Zeus, but Hades hasn’t.
My mother is arguably one of the gentler hands when it comes to Olympian power games. Aphrodite has neither a soft touch nor a subtle bone in her body. Eros wouldn’t have survived this long in this city without being a little bit of both liar and cheat. I certainly haven’t. There’s plenty he’s not telling me about his motivations. For all that, I trust that he’s as intent on this marriage as I have to be. All the other details will fall where they may.
It’s our job to ensure they fall where we want them to.
My phone buzzes as a text comes through. A welcome distraction from how good it feels to have Eros touching me.
Persephone: We’re meeting in an hour at Poppy’s. She’s furious about that photo. Between the one last night and the other, she thinks you’ve been secretly dating behind her back. Good luck.
Our plan is working. This is what I wanted. So why do I feel so sick about it?
I type a quick thank-you and push my chair back. “My mother will be leaving the penthouse in about thirty minutes.” She’ll want to get to Poppy’s early to ensure she has her preferred table. My mother isn’t predictable when it comes to many moves she makes, but there are certain things I can reasonably assume she’ll do. One of those is maneuvering to get the best table in any restaurant, maximized for seeing and being seen.
Eros grabs both our plates and heads for the sink. “Let’s go.”
“We really don’t—” I cut myself off at the look on his face. It’s clear he’s not about to let me out of his sight, and I honestly don’t know what I’d do if I got a little distance from him. I’ve committed myself to this, yes, but if there was a chance to find another way… I am who I am, which means I am my mother’s daughter. I will always be looking for the best path forward, even if that means pivoting unexpectedly.
Not to mention if he’s serious about the threat his mother offers, I actually need him to look out for me. I haven’t survived the last twenty-four hours only to fall now, when survival is on the horizon. “Fine. Let’s go.”
It takes us five minutes to get our shoes on and into the elevator. There’s a different security person waiting at the floor of the parking garage with Eros’s car, a white woman with bright-red hair and even brighter lipstick. She smiles at him, and the expression only dims the slightest bit when she sees me. “Morning, Eros.”
“Morning.” He barely glances at her as he holds the door open for me and whisks us down to the aisle he parked in last night. Except instead of going to the tiny sports car, he walks past it to a dark sedan. It’s still the height of luxury, but it’s surprisingly understated. When I raise my eyebrows, Eros looks away. “The Porsche isn’t practical if we don’t want to draw attention.” His shoulders hunch the tiniest bit. “And you weren’t comfortable in it.”
There is absolutely no reason for that sliver of thoughtfulness to have heat flushing my body. None at all. I’m not so starved for attention that my head will turn over such a small thing. And yet… “Thanks,” I say softly.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s blushing as he unlocks the doors and we climb into the car. We don’t speak as we pull out of the parking garage, and I’m grateful for the silence because it allows me time to get my head on straight. I don’t need to be overanalyzing Eros’s motivations for switching vehicles. I need to think and strategize about what I’m going to pack and what I absolutely can’t live without. Doing it in one trip is going to be a challenge, but I’ll figure it out.
I don’t question the fact that Eros knows where I live. I can pinpoint the buildings of all of the Thirteen and most of their inner circles and families. It pays to be aware of these things, and so everyone is.
“Where should I park?”
“The street.”
He makes a face. “That’s more exposed than I’d like to be.”
“I know, but it’s a risk we have to take.” The security people who work for the building monitor our comings and goings and report them to my mother, and the last thing I need is for her to decide we need to be detained so she and I can have a sit-down. There’s no avoiding it indefinitely, but I want Eros and me to be beyond the point of no return before Mother gets involved. Like Aphrodite, even she will have to recalibrate once his ring is on my finger.
Speaking of… “We need rings.”
Eros expertly parallel parks in a spot small enough that I would have said it was impossible. He turns off the engine. “The jeweler will be at my place at two this afternoon with a selection. I just need your size.”
Of course he’s thought of that. I tell him my ring size and watch as he shoots off a text. My phone is still blowing up with notifications, but I’ve silenced it so I can work through them when I have time. “I don’t know if Callisto is there, but I don’t want a confrontation.”
“You don’t have to worry about it.”
I give him the look that deserves. “I think we’ve already established that violence is definitely something you’re capable of.”
He transforms before my eyes. The coldness disappears from his face and he gives me a charming smile. “I would never harm anyone the love of my life cares about.”
I dig my nails into my palm, using the bite of pain to remind myself that this is fake. No matter how intensely my heart flutters when he looks at me like that, it’s all an act. I may need to get my damn heart looked at soon, though. Surely skipping beats this regularly isn’t healthy. “Let’s get this over with.”
“After you, beloved.”
