“Maybe ten years ago he was capable of it. He isn’t now.” I’ve been too careful, have built my power base too intentionally. Zeus killed my father when he was still new to the title, too inexperienced to know friend from foe. I’ve had my entire life to train to take that monster on. Though I was little more than a figurehead Hades before I turned seventeen, I’ve had sixteen years actually at the helm. If ever there was a time to do this, to draw my line in the sand and dare Zeus to cross it, it’s now. There’s no telling if I’ll get another opportunity like Persephone, a chance to humiliate Zeus and step into the light once and for all. The thought of all the eyes in Olympus on me is enough to open up a pit in my stomach, but it’s been far too long that Zeus overlooks the lower city and pretends he’s the ruler here. “It’s time, Andreas. It’s long since time.”
Another of his headshakes, like I’ve disappointed him. I hate how much that matters to me, but Andreas has been the strong guiding light in my life for so long. His retirement a few years ago doesn’t lessen that. He’s the uncle I never had, though he never tried to play the father. He knows better than that. Finally, he leans forward. “What’s your plan?”
“Three months of giving him the middle finger. If he comes across the river and tries to take her back, not even the other Thirteen will stand by him. They put that treaty in place for a reason.”
“The Thirteen didn’t save your father. What makes you think they’ll save you?”
We’ve had this argument a thousand times over the years. I smother my irritation and give him my full attention. “Because the treaty didn’t exist when Zeus killed my father.” It’s shitty beyond belief that my parents had to die for the treaty to be put into place, but if things become a free-for-all among the Thirteen, it hurts their bottom line, which is the only thing they care about. It was one of the few times in Olympus history that the Thirteen worked together long enough to challenge Zeus’s power and strong-arm an agreement that no one is willing to break.
Zeus cannot come here and I can’t go there. No one can harm another member of the Thirteen or their families without being erased from existence. It’s a damn shame that rule doesn’t seem to apply to Hera. That role used to be one of the most powerful, but the last few Zeuses have whittled it down until it’s little more than a figurehead position for their spouse. It’s allowed Zeus to act however he damn well pleases without consequence because Hera is seen as an extension of his position rather than one that stands on its own.
If Persephone marries him, the treaty won’t keep her safe.
“Hardly a foolproof plan.”
I allow myself a grin, though it feels haggard on my face. “Will it make you feel better if we double the guards at the bridges in case he attempts to march Ares’s small army over the river?” It won’t happen and we both know it, but I’ve already planned on increasing security in the unlikely event Zeus tries to attack. I won’t be caught flat-footed like my parents were.
“No,” he grumbles. “But I suppose that’s a start.” Andreas sets his mug down. “You can’t keep the girl. Thumb your nose at him if you must, but you can’t keep her. He won’t allow it. Maybe he can’t move against you directly, but he’ll bait a trap to put you in violation of the treaty, and then the full might of those pretty fools will come down on you. Not even you can survive that. Certainly not your people.”
There it is. The constant reminder that I am not a mere man, that the weight of so many lives rest on my shoulders. In the upper city, the responsibility for the lives of its citizens falls on twelve sets of shoulders. In the lower city, there is only me. “It won’t be an issue.”
“You say that now, but if it were true, you never would have brought her back here.”
“I’m not keeping her.” The very idea is ludicrous. I can’t blame Persephone for not wanting to wear Zeus’s ring, but she’s still a pretty princess who’s been given everything her entire life. She might like her walk on the wild side for the duration of the winter, but the thought of something permanent would send her screaming into the night. It’s fine. I have no long-term use for a woman like that.
Andreas finally nods. “I suppose it’s too late to worry about it now. You’ll see it through.”
“I will.” One way or another.
What would it take to incite Zeus to break the treaty? Very little, I expect. His rage is legendary. He won’t take kindly to me “defiling” his pretty bride for everyone to see. It’s easy enough to orchestrate a little show to the proper people who are guaranteed to get the rumor mill spinning, and the story will spread through Olympus like wildfire. Enough people talking and Zeus might feel he has to do something rash. Something that will have actual consequences.