Shattered Gods (Dark Olympus, #10)(9)

My foolish heart lodges in my throat, bloody and beating hard enough to choke on. She looks good, if tired. It’s calculated, I’m sure, to appear more approachable. One of them. She is one of them, or at least was a very long time ago. I was, too. Her short blond hair is perfectly styled and her makeup is sparse, having made no attempt to cover up the circles beneath her green eyes. She’s wearing normal enough clothing, too, in an attempt to be one of the people.

Circe motions with a graceful hand. “We move into the future of Olympus today by meting out justice to the first of the monsters who harmed me and so many others. When Zeus saw me, took me, this woman was the one who planned our wedding, ignoring my protests that it wasn’t something I wanted.” Her voice is cool and practiced, but a thread of tension vibrates beneath the words. She’s telling the truth, and her words are all the more powerful for it. “I begged her to free me. Instead, she reported to Zeus every word I said. Knowing I refused to play along only stoked his rage, which resulted in the attempt on my life.”

I shake my head slowly. There’s only one person she could be talking about, but that’s impossible. The last Aphrodite was exiled nearly a year ago after she attempted to kill Psyche Dimitriou; Psyche had been clever enough to video the entire thing. The public outcry forced the new Zeus’s hand, and he chose exile over a more violent punishment.

On my screen, Circe continues. “But I’m not the only one she harmed.” Her gaze cuts to something below her. “How many people did she send her son after, cutting them down before they had a chance to threaten her? One of them sits in this auditorium right now.”

The camera cuts to a pale Psyche, her hazel eyes too wide. Next to her, Eros is coiled and seems ready to spring into action. He’s the son in question, the one the past Aphrodite sent after people she viewed as her competition. The former Aphrodite might be more of a monster than most, but she’s still his mother.

“Fuck,” I breathe.

I don’t hold any fondness for the last Aphrodite. Both for the reasons Circe has stated and because she was a constant pain in the ass in general. The only reason she was exiled instead of executed for her crimes was because Zeus was too new to his title and her alliances were too strong. He didn’t dare do more than banish her.

So, no, I don’t care about Peitho, the former Aphrodite, for the sake of who she is. I care about her because she’s Eros’s mother. He’s my friend, and I don’t want to see him hurt. If Circe tries to kill his mother in front of him, he won’t stand there and let it happen. And if he tries to stop Circe, she’ll kill him, too.

“This was supposed to be as near to a bloodless coup as we could manage,” I snarl. It doesn’t matter that there’s no one around to hear me. The only people who were supposed to be hurt were the ones who deserve it. And, sure, Peitho does deserve it, but not like this. Not in front of her son. Eros has killed more than a few people, but he’s turned his back on that life and embraced love and happiness with a new murderous family that doesn’t actually need him to be their fixer. And only Demeter and Hera are murderous, really, though Persephone has a ruthless streak a mile wide.

I have to stop this. I’m not far from the university, barely a mile. Circe says she’s only going to kill those responsible in fair trials, but this is more trial by public opinion than by a jury of Peitho’s peers. Over the sound mixing, I can hear the jeers and cheers from the audience as Circe continues to detail the many sins of the woman kneeling at her feet.

Even if Psyche can hold Eros back, how long until those angry people in the crowd focus on the fact that the former Aphrodite never bothered to get her hands dirty? That the instrument of her violence sits in the very room with them? Eros is good, but he can’t fight off dozens of people. He’ll be focused on protecting Psyche and not himself. He’ll die.

I shove my phone in my pocket and start to run.

Even with all the exhaustion in the last few weeks, I’m in the best shape of my life. When you know war is coming, you’d be a fool not to prepare yourself for the conflict in every way possible. That means with resources, yes, but also turning my body into a weapon in and of itself.

I make it to the university in five minutes flat. Each breath burns through my lungs, but I could do another couple miles at this pace if pressed. Circe’s melodious voice croons through speakers throughout campus, still detailing the sins of Peitho. Gods, she’s killed so many people and harmed even more during her tenure as Aphrodite.

An ugly little voice inside me whispers that it would be so easy to simply…be too late. No matter what I want the people of Olympus to believe, I’m not superhuman. I’m just one tired-ass woman who’s doing her best. All of the Thirteen think I’m a traitor, and a good portion of them think I’m in league with Circe herself. Showing up a few seconds after she kills Peitho won’t condemn me further in their eyes.

But…Eros.

Gods, it would be so much easier if I didn’t have even a shred of conscience. I grit my teeth and cut through the crowd of people gathered. It’s a testament to Circe’s magnetism that they don’t pay the slightest bit of attention to me, too focused on the beautiful woman displayed on every screen available. I can’t look at her or risk being captured myself.

I don’t have many weaknesses, but Circe is a glaring one. It’s not a good idea to end up in the same room as her considering what happened the last time. I was completely defenseless in a way I haven’t been since taking the Hermes title. Worse of all, I can’t guarantee it won’t happen again.