This Immortal Heart: A Novel of Aphrodite(40)

He looks at me steadily, waiting for me to go on.

“So, as far as everyone is concerned, nothing has changed. We can carry on just as we were before. You keep fomenting wars and sitting on Zeus’ council until he provokes you into storming out again. And I’ll…” I twist my fingers into the soft fur of the bearskin draped across me. “I’ll be Aphrodite, the same as always.”

He takes his time before answering. “Exactly the same?”

“Yes.” I’m careful with my words. “And if we make sure this doesn’t happen again, no one will ever find out.”

“If that’s what you want.” He sounds flat.

That is what I want, isn’t it? I need to find a way to exhaust the spark between us, to let it die down to ashes, not find any more reasons to keep it alight. “You know I never demand fidelity from my lovers, or offer it either.”

He holds my gaze, silent for a moment before he answers. “I’m not interested in changing you. I don’t want you to be anything other than what you are.”

“Good.” I take another sip. It would be easy for me to fool myself into pretending that it could always be this simple—the two of us together where the rest of the world can’t intrude. But we aren’t allies. When we leave his bedchamber, we rule over opposite realms.

And I’m worried that if I stay in this cocoon too long, I’ll forget why I need to know that, why I need to remind myself of its truth.

He’s the God of War. He stands for the ruin, death and destruction of everything I hold dear.

However passionately this fire between us might rage, I can’t let it burn out of control.



* * *



—

I soar away from Thrace, a white dove against a gray sky, unseen and unnoticed by Eris, who swoops in as I leave, her wings a dark shadow in the clouds. All the way back to Mount Olympus, I practice the breezy, unconcerned attitude I’ll adopt in its halls.

When Zeus alights on me in the corridors, his gleeful expression doesn’t bode well. “Why do you look so happy?” I ask him. “Is there good news?”

“Ares is leading his tribe to war,” he says. “That unbearable Strife Goddess trailing behind him as usual.”

That didn’t take long, I think. They must have left the moment I was gone, hungry for the fight.

“I thought you wanted him to hold them back?” I ask. “I heard your last argument, bringing the throne room ceiling down in ruins.”

“An exaggeration,” he scoffs. “And why were you listening? I didn’t think you had any interest in Ares.”

“You can’t blame me for being curious,” I say innocently. “He’s handsome.”

“He takes after me,” Zeus boasts. Then he frowns. “In one aspect at least.”

“Hmm. Of course. Anyway,” I continue, sitting down in the chair beside him, noting the way that his eyes follow every curve of my body when I move, “there wouldn’t be much point. Ares is only interested in one thing.”

“War,” Zeus says. “And I plan to deny him one.” His smile is unbearably self-satisfied.

“I’m sure he’ll be very frustrated.” I keep my voice benign. It seems Zeus is intent on massacring the warriors just as he threatened. I think of the death rites we heard last night and wonder who’ll be left to bury the next victims.

“Perhaps he’ll learn to obey me next time.”

“Perhaps.” I look at him closely. “Is that all you’re pleased about?”

His grin broadens. “You would know,” he says. “I’m on my way to Thebes.”

The princess he’s been visiting. I feel a twist of guilt, remembering how I urged Eros to fan the flames higher in the hope it would distract Zeus from Pandora. That didn’t work, but I’ve done nothing to dampen Zeus’ ardor. “Don’t you think,” I say, “you should be more cautious?”

He tips his head back, laughing. “Why?”

I give him a pointed stare. In his fervor, he seems to have forgotten the discretion he usually attempts, however minimal. “Your wife?”

“Aphrodite,” he says, “you sound like Hephaestus.” He curls his lip. “Whenever he gets the courage to speak to me at all, it’s always with reproach. As if he has the right to judge his own father. I expect better from you, though. This woman, Semele…well, you can understand.” The words thicken in his mouth like he’s savoring them.

I raise a hand to cut him off. “Don’t tell me,” I say. He doesn’t need to anyway. His desire is palpable. He’s practically salivating. “Just go.”

He needs no further encouragement. I’m eager to be free of his presence, but remind myself to distract him with a different passion when he returns. If Hera hasn’t noticed already, she will soon and her wrath will be directed at the defenseless woman rather than her despised husband. For Semele’s sake, I’ll put a swift end to it.



* * *



—

At the bottom of the steps, I glance back and see Hera in the archway, staring after me. I hope she heard none of our conversation. Before she can stop me, I swerve quickly toward the homely forge across the courtyard. It’s an instinct to avoid her, though, and, when the door closes behind me, I wish I’d darted somewhere else.