Instead, she’s hyper--focusing on her revenge. It’s annoying as hell. “How’s Zeus doing these days?” Up until a few months ago, he was Perseus, but names are the first thing sacrificed at the altar of the Thirteen. Part of me wonders if that bothers him. I let the thought drift away. Perseus isn’t my problem. He’s been Zeus’s heir for his entire life. He knew he’d take the title when his father died. If it happened a bit earlier than anyone expected… Well, that’s also not my problem. I didn’t kill the asshole.
“Don’t change the subject,” she snaps. “Ever since Persephone ran off and shacked up with Hades, the power balance in Olympus is off. Someone needs to check Demeter, and if no one else will step up, then we’ll have to.”
“You mean I’ll have to. You might be demanding a heart, but we both know that I’m the one doing all the work.” It’s not even that I mind it, exactly, though I try to keep murder to a minimum. It’s messy and I have no desire for someone to start calling for my head. It’s so much easier to remove an opponent with a well--placed rumor or simply observe them until their own actions provide the ammunition for their downfall. Olympus is filled to the brim with sin, if one believes in that sort of thing, and no one in the Thirteen’s shining circle is without their fair share of vices.
Except, apparently, Demeter’s daughters.
I’ve been keeping an eye on them for months, ever since the old Zeus decided he wanted Persephone for his own. I snort. For all that good that did him. He drove her right into Hades’s arms, which in turn, brought Hades out of the shadows of the lower city. No one saw that coming.
But the bottom line is that the remaining three of Demeter’s daughters are careful to color inside the lines. They don’t drink too much, they don’t do drugs, they don’t date or sleep with anyone they shouldn’t. The most scandalous thing any of them have done in the last two months is when Callisto, the oldest, attacked a guy who grabbed her youngest sister’s ass in a bar. It was a gorgeous takedown. One second he was leering at Eurydice, and the next she’d punched him in the throat, knocking him on his ass, and said something in his ear that made him turn a sickly shade of green.
If I have my choice, I wouldn’t cross Callisto. I’m better than she is, but she’s got a rage that makes her unpredictable. Being unpredictable makes her dangerous.
“Eros.” Mother snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Stop daydreaming and do this task for me.”
I sigh. “Which daughter?”
“The daughter no one but her mother will miss.” She smiles slowly, her blue eyes going icy. “Psyche.”
Years of training keep my response to a minimum. I should have known Psyche would be her choice. Callisto is a wild card and as likely to harm Demeter’s reputation as help it. Persephone is untouchable as Hades’s dark queen of the lower city. That leaves Psyche and Eurydice. Eurydice is sweet and as close to innocent as someone can be in Olympus, even with her recent heartbreak. Beyond that, she flits back and forth across the River Styx and spends too much time in Hades’s domain to risk messing with.
Psyche?
She’s something else entirely. She plays the game and plays it well, all without seeming to. She’s got this unassuming thing going on, but I’ve been watching her long enough to notice that she never makes a move by accident. I can’t prove it, of course, but I think she’s got just as savvy a brain in her head as her mother does. “The daughter no one will miss?” I raise my brows. “Or an excuse to punish the Dimitriou daughter who gets more press than you do?”
She sneers. “She’s a fat girl with little style and no substance. The only reason MuseWatch and the other sites follow her around is because she’s a novelty. She’s not even close to my league.”
I don’t argue with her because there’s no point, but the truth is that Psyche is gorgeous and has a style that sets trends in a way Aphrodite can only dream of. Which is exactly the problem. My mother’s decided to take down two birds with one stone.
“The reason is irrelevant.” She props her hands on her hips. “I want this taken care of, Eros. You have to do this for me.”
Something in my chest twinges, but I ignore it. If I believed in souls, I would have sacrificed mine long ago. There is a price for power in Olympus, and with a mother in the Thirteen, I never had a chance at innocence. I don’t mourn the loss, not when I enjoy the benefits so immensely. If it means that sometimes I’m required to do these little tasks for my mother? It’s a small enough price to pay. “I’ll see it done.”