This Immortal Heart: A Novel of Aphrodite(104)

I thought I’d find him with an Amazon woman—a wild warrior of the steppes, passionate and ferocious like the rest of them. I’d prepared myself for intensity, for something primal and charged. Battles and blood and fury giving way to animalistic need.

But she’s only a girl. A girl whose face is the mirror of her father’s.

There is love here, but it’s not what I was expecting. This is cozy, domestic and familial.

I’ve made my way to Ares’ home and found something I’d never have expected. Ares, alone with what can only be his daughter.

When he left, he left me with a hollow ache. A void that made it hurt to breathe; one that threatened to swallow me whole and drag the world in with me. I didn’t allow it to consume me. Every day, I healed a little more, until all I had was the memory of pain, not the pain itself.

Seeing him now tugs at the scars that hold that wound closed. This is the life he’s made without me; the one we couldn’t share.

I back away noiselessly. It was foolish to come here. I only wanted to satisfy my curiosity at last, to know where he is and what he’s made of his existence out here.

I let the darkness swallow me up, taking hold of the reins and gesturing to the doves to fly, sweeping through the air until the fire is a distant spark extinguished by night.

I have my own life to return to; one I fought to protect. One I’ll never relinquish, not for anyone.



* * *



—

I make a rapid course back toward Mount Olympus, leaving my chariot with the stable-nymphs and going straight to the throne room. From the courtyard, I can hear laughter and song drifting from the wide windows.

I want to see the Horae, or perhaps Demeter among the throng. Friendly faces and conversation, even if it’s trivial and inconsequential—better that it is, in fact. Right now, that’s exactly what I crave.

It’s unnerving to see Helios sitting at Zeus’ right hand. The Sun God is an infrequent visitor to Olympus, and usually an uncomfortable one. I’ve never seen him sipping wine at the long tables, his pointed crown catching the glimmer of starlight from outside.

Hephaestus sits among them too, relaxed in conversation with Dionysus. He doesn’t look troubled; he’s smiling and talking, happier than I’ve seen him in a long time.

“Aphrodite,” Demeter calls, beckoning me to the seat beside her.

I smile and join her, leaning in to whisper in her ear, “What’s Helios doing here?”

Before she can answer, Zeus interrupts. “Aphrodite!” he booms. “At last!”

I glance around in puzzlement. “Were you waiting for me?” I ask.

Helios, Zeus and Poseidon are together at the head of the table. The three of them, bearded and crowned, look like brothers—almost interchangeable. But at Poseidon’s elbow sits a man much smaller and less impressive. “Is he…is he a mortal?” I murmur to Demeter.

Wine sloshes from Poseidon’s goblet. “See here,” he declares. “My son joins us on Olympus!”

“Your son?” I ask. Poseidon must have dozens of sons. He’s fathered gods, giants and mortals, and, to my memory, he’s never shown much interest in any of them.

“Halirrhothios,” he says, his wine-sodden tongue slipping over the syllables.

The young man is looking at me with a curiosity that borders on insolence. “Hello,” he says. So bold, as though he wasn’t addressing a goddess at all. And it’s not charming from him, not the way it was when the Amazons spoke to me like equals.

“What’s the meaning of this?” I ask, ignoring him. “A mortal in the palace of the gods?”

Poseidon flings his arm across the man’s shoulders, slapping him on the back. “He was the victor at the mortal games held in Zeus’ honor: the four-horse-chariot race,” he boasts. “This is his reward.”

I notice how most of the other gods bristle slightly and turn away from Halirrhothios. Poseidon has overstepped by bringing him here.

“Never mind about that,” Zeus interrupts. “It’s our other guest that Aphrodite will be most interested in.”

Poseidon frowns, insulted, but a smile creeps across Helios’ face.

Zeus slaps his hands on the table in front of him, his eyes bright with triumph. “How long have you known where Ares is?”

I look him squarely in the face. “I only just found out.” I glance at Helios. “I assume he’s been spying on me?”

Helios draws himself up, sitting tall and majestic. He’s swathed in a purple robe, crowned and bearded, a smug gleam in his eye. “Zeus sent me to look for the War God,” he says. “I happened to notice you were on those same steppes.”

“I didn’t go there for Ares,” I say breezily. “I had my own business on the steppe. Nothing to do with him.”

Zeus and Helios exchange skeptical glances. What an irritating pairing they make.

“Did you speak to him?” Zeus asks.

I shake my head. “No.”

“Well, I’d like him to come back,” Zeus says. “Athena is tired of trying to keep that Strife Goddess in check. Maybe you could help persuade him to return to his responsibilities.” He leers.

“I don’t think so,” I say. “I’m surprised you haven’t replaced him. I seem to recall your saying it would be easy. I thought you could father a war-god with no trouble.”