Bonds of Hercules (Villains of Lore, #2)(68)

I tried.

After I finished getting dressed in the outfit Helen had left out for me, I wrapped Nyx around my neck.

“Careful,” she hissed. “The diamonds are cold.”

I moved to the mirror. “What are you talking about? There are no—”

My jaw dropped.

A necklace of glittering blue diamonds hung around my throat like a choker.

Oh.

My.

God.

“Kharon?” I whispered with dawning horror as I fingered the gems, entranced by how much they sparkled. Sighing heavily, I searched for the clasp. “I can’t wear these.”

“Why?” Nyx asked as she slithered down my arm.

“Because it’s too much and I—”

“Didn’t you agree just yesterday to give Kharon a chance?” Nyx cut me off.

“I mean … I didn’t kill him?”

“Exactly,” Nyx hissed. “Accept the pretty jewelry. Don’t be ungrateful—it’s tacky.”

My fingers stilled.

She had a point.

I dropped my hands, determination filling my gut. I can forgive my husbands and prove myself to Sparta.

Either I was turning over a new leaf, or I was completely delusional. Only time would tell (it was definitely the latter).

Drex smiled with relief when I stepped out the door. He grabbed my arm and dragged me through the gilded villa. Fluffy Jr. barked and ran beside us while Toucey flew above our heads, his metallic feathers grazing the high ceiling.

We came to a stop in the bustling atrium.

Everyone turned to me.

The leaders and heirs were all present, including Helen and Charlie. The only person missing was Ceres. At least she would be safe in the villa, protected from the Olympians.

Persephone and Hades smiled at me with pride—I smiled back at them.

In contrast, the side of my face prickled under the heavy weight of Achilles’s and Patro’s death glares. From their expressions, they were not happy with me.

On the other side of the room, Kharon smirked with pure male satisfaction as he stared at the jewelry on my neck.

“Who are you all looking at?” Nyx hissed. “Creeps.”

“Let’s go,” Hades ordered.

Why are Augustus’s right knuckles wrapped?

Everyone placed their hands in.

“Domus,” Aphrodite shouted.

Crack.

Smoke rose—protectors crouched low at our feet with anticipation—the tunnel of the Dolomites Coliseum towered around us.

I’d been here before.

Stone vibrated and dust fell as people stomped above our heads. Most of Sparta would be in attendance today.

“Amor fati, memento mori … Amor fati, memento mori!” chanted through the air.

Remember death, love your fate.

I reached into the layered loose folds of my toga and clutched the cold metal of my emotional support calculator.

Nyx slithered tighter around my arm.

Fluffy Jr. picked up a rock with his mouth and crunched down on it. Yep, that’s a horse.

Ares, Aphrodite, Artemis, and Hades took the lead, walking up a narrow spiraling stone stairwell built into the rock, and we all followed behind them.

Augustus looked back over his shoulder at me as he walked up the stairs. Poco hung off his back eating his hair.

His eyes seemed sharper, brighter than usual.

Kharon walked behind me, his hand lingering on my lower back, pushing me forward. His fingers drifted up my spine and traced across the blue diamond necklace. Did he slip it on in the dining hall, or did he visit me in the middle of the night?

I wanted to ask, but nerves were twisting my stomach, and the tension between the three of us was mounting.

We emerged from the narrow staircase into the stadium—gray clouds hung low, a stiff breeze whipped back and forth eight colorful Olympian House flags, each section was full of a few dozen House members in matching regalia.

Augustus and Kharon moved so they flanked me, each with a hand resting on my lower back. It was the lightest of touches, but I struggled to focus on anything else.

Yesterday, they’d crawled to me, begging.

Their heady scents—lightning and rain—filled my nose.

I discreetly turned my head to the side and breathed deeply as I scanned the crowd, spotting the lion of the House of Zeus.

Amongst the Houses were pockets of different creatures I hadn’t noticed my first time here. I recognized a packed section full of sirens, and Erebus sat with dozens of men in similar cloaks. There were other creatures I didn’t recognize.

In the center of it all, the arena sand was empty.

The contestants hadn’t arrived yet.

“Amor fati, memento mori …” Spartan voices trailed off as every head turned to stare at our group.

The black silk of my toga blew against my legs and my wedding ring felt like a brand on my finger.

The Chthonic leaders turned back to look at us, their expressions cold and regal. Power strummed tangibly around them in glittering mist and fog.

Ares nodded, a ruby halo shining creepily around his black irises.

Stomp.

Clap.

Stomp.

The stadium vibrated beneath my feet as the Olympians slammed their feet against stone with anticipation.

Hades had coached me on this moment.

The flag ceremony at the initiation massacre was apparently a centuries-old tradition. It was a great Spartan honor.